By the time we woke from a nap, and a little late afternoon nooky, the snow was falling, and the chair where Mistress had spent Sunday afternoon was under several inches of fluffy white stuff. So today we get to head back up the mountain where they say the new snow is up to 15 inches, and still falling.
So it's nice to have the following contribution from Donna to share with you, as Mistress and Slave settle into their spring holiday here in the Mountains.
It's A Cheeky Blog Today
Cheeky One
When Bill called me back to the bedroom yesterday evening, I was so excited. I had visions of sucking Bill's penis with my arms cuffed behind my back, of Bill filling every orifice with toys and tongue, of making use of the spreader...right up until the point he sat down on the edge of the bed and motioned for me to get over his lap.
Yep, there was a whole lot of spanking going on, barehanded and strong. We moved from the number owed for using the word "sorry", to many more for a cheeky attitude that has become more prominent in Bill's opinion, which he reminded me (with a few more swats) is the only opinion that matters on this subject. Then there were some swats for complaining about keeping all the paperwork straight and a few more for General Principle. And by the way, if I ever meet this General Principle dude, we are going to have some words!
Finally, my butt on fire, he told me to follow him to the living room, that he
had come across a position he wanted to try in there for spanking and sex , I
was hoping for the sex without anymore spanking. The position is rather odd to
describe, but basically he turned the rectangular hassock so that the shorter
side was between his knees as he sat on the couch. Then he had me kneel on the
hassock, and back up toward him. He positioned my knees on the outside of his
hips, then had me lower my head onto the hassock. So it was head down, butt up
and I got another good spanking right on top of the earlier one. Sore cheeks!
Really sore cheeks! But when he finished the spanking and pulled me straight
back against his erect penis, I knew he had a position we would return to again
soon, hopefully with more focus on sex and less on spanking my red cheeks next
time.
Cheeky Two
I had some trouble sleeping and watched an infomercial in the middle of the night for some sort of procedure that makes one's face appear 15 or more years younger. The before and after pictures were quite remarkable, although the fact that none of the women wore makeup or had their hair styled in the before pictures, but were done up to the nines in the after photos did make me wonder a tad. The testimonials were all similar, very similar, with every woman using phrases you don't hear often in general conversation, phrases like, "Now my outside matches my inside." If you have ever spent any time with Grey's Anatomy, you probably don't want your outside to match your inside. That's why skin is there: to protect and hide the innards. Further explanation by a plastic surgeon, later to be reiterated by a psychologist, was that people are living longer and feeling younger, but their faces don't match their energy levels. Oh, that makes sense. No, wait, I don't think it does.
As I sat there pondering those deeper questions of life, you know the kind, like how could it possibly be that with 20+ channels on our television, this was the cream of the viewing crop, I began to think about what changes I would make to my body if I could. In reflecting on the short-term past, I might have chosen to change that decision to have a cup of strong coffee after dinner, but in trying to contemplate the much bigger picture, my hips came to mind.
Bill loves my hips and my butt, too, and I am very appreciative of that, but recently I have come to understand that my below the waist size is different than I thought. And that hurt me, it really did, right up to the point that it hurt someone else more than it hurt me. Let me explain.
Cheeky One
When Bill called me back to the bedroom yesterday evening, I was so excited. I had visions of sucking Bill's penis with my arms cuffed behind my back, of Bill filling every orifice with toys and tongue, of making use of the spreader...right up until the point he sat down on the edge of the bed and motioned for me to get over his lap.
Yep, there was a whole lot of spanking going on, barehanded and strong. We moved from the number owed for using the word "sorry", to many more for a cheeky attitude that has become more prominent in Bill's opinion, which he reminded me (with a few more swats) is the only opinion that matters on this subject. Then there were some swats for complaining about keeping all the paperwork straight and a few more for General Principle. And by the way, if I ever meet this General Principle dude, we are going to have some words!
Finally, my butt on fire, he told me to follow him to the living room, that he
had come across a position he wanted to try in there for spanking and sex , I
was hoping for the sex without anymore spanking. The position is rather odd to
describe, but basically he turned the rectangular hassock so that the shorter
side was between his knees as he sat on the couch. Then he had me kneel on the
hassock, and back up toward him. He positioned my knees on the outside of his
hips, then had me lower my head onto the hassock. So it was head down, butt up
and I got another good spanking right on top of the earlier one. Sore cheeks!
Really sore cheeks! But when he finished the spanking and pulled me straight
back against his erect penis, I knew he had a position we would return to again
soon, hopefully with more focus on sex and less on spanking my red cheeks next
time.Cheeky Two
I had some trouble sleeping and watched an infomercial in the middle of the night for some sort of procedure that makes one's face appear 15 or more years younger. The before and after pictures were quite remarkable, although the fact that none of the women wore makeup or had their hair styled in the before pictures, but were done up to the nines in the after photos did make me wonder a tad. The testimonials were all similar, very similar, with every woman using phrases you don't hear often in general conversation, phrases like, "Now my outside matches my inside." If you have ever spent any time with Grey's Anatomy, you probably don't want your outside to match your inside. That's why skin is there: to protect and hide the innards. Further explanation by a plastic surgeon, later to be reiterated by a psychologist, was that people are living longer and feeling younger, but their faces don't match their energy levels. Oh, that makes sense. No, wait, I don't think it does.
As I sat there pondering those deeper questions of life, you know the kind, like how could it possibly be that with 20+ channels on our television, this was the cream of the viewing crop, I began to think about what changes I would make to my body if I could. In reflecting on the short-term past, I might have chosen to change that decision to have a cup of strong coffee after dinner, but in trying to contemplate the much bigger picture, my hips came to mind.
Bill loves my hips and my butt, too, and I am very appreciative of that, but recently I have come to understand that my below the waist size is different than I thought. And that hurt me, it really did, right up to the point that it hurt someone else more than it hurt me. Let me explain.
I was innocently rolling
through a warehouse store when I spotted, way off on the horizon, a display of
shorts in my favorite color. I grabbed the rims of my personal chariot and did
my best impression of a wheelchair athlete in getting over to the display. Yes!
The fabric was right, too! Oh, joy! What surer sign of spring? I quickly leaned
into the stacks looking for my size. I picked up a pair that seemed to be about
right and examined the tag, hunting for the size, and that's when I saw the
letter G. I am familiar with S for small and M for medium, but G? So I put the
shorts in my lap and rolled over to the clothing section employee to ask about
the mysterious size designation.
I waited politely for a break in the clerk's rather lengthy conversation with another female employee, about the prior night's rendezvous with their boyfriends, before making my polite inquiry. The young woman, clearly bothered that there were customers in the store, said in very broken English, "Those will probably fit you. The G stands for grande." What came to mind was that famous quote by Bugs Bunny, "They don't know me very well, do they?"
From the look that came over her face along with the fact that the other employee backed away and left, I can only suppose my evil grin must have been a clue that something was about to hit the fan. In a very soft, yet steely, voice I said, "That wasn't very nice, now was it? In this tough job market, I would hate for your employment to be placed at risk by this happening again with a less understanding person. So, just to be sure that won't happen, please tell me how you think you might improve the response you just gave me." And as I spoke, I rolled closer and closer, moving in on her personal space. She paled, her English immediately improved and together we worked out a much better response.
When Bill wandered up a few minutes later, I introduced them and thanked her for her assistance, assuring her I would look forward to seeing her next time. She looked at me with big eyes, I smiled, and we both started laughing. Then she gave me a genuine smile and asked if there was anything else she could help me with. lol
After we left the young woman, I rolled over and put the shorts back on the stack. Grande, my ass. Literally!
I'm staying up late tonight to get the name of that place that does the face lifts from the infomercial. I'm okay with my face, but maybe they can make the cheeks in my shorts look 15 years younger. Maybe?
Hugs,
Donna
I waited politely for a break in the clerk's rather lengthy conversation with another female employee, about the prior night's rendezvous with their boyfriends, before making my polite inquiry. The young woman, clearly bothered that there were customers in the store, said in very broken English, "Those will probably fit you. The G stands for grande." What came to mind was that famous quote by Bugs Bunny, "They don't know me very well, do they?"
From the look that came over her face along with the fact that the other employee backed away and left, I can only suppose my evil grin must have been a clue that something was about to hit the fan. In a very soft, yet steely, voice I said, "That wasn't very nice, now was it? In this tough job market, I would hate for your employment to be placed at risk by this happening again with a less understanding person. So, just to be sure that won't happen, please tell me how you think you might improve the response you just gave me." And as I spoke, I rolled closer and closer, moving in on her personal space. She paled, her English immediately improved and together we worked out a much better response.
When Bill wandered up a few minutes later, I introduced them and thanked her for her assistance, assuring her I would look forward to seeing her next time. She looked at me with big eyes, I smiled, and we both started laughing. Then she gave me a genuine smile and asked if there was anything else she could help me with. lol
After we left the young woman, I rolled over and put the shorts back on the stack. Grande, my ass. Literally!
I'm staying up late tonight to get the name of that place that does the face lifts from the infomercial. I'm okay with my face, but maybe they can make the cheeks in my shorts look 15 years younger. Maybe?
Hugs,
Donna
