Monday, 27 February 2012

Cards In The Caravan pt1 - No Aardvarks!

There is a scene in the film Trainspotting, I can't recall it word for word, but the gist of it, as I remember is as follows. The main characters are all in a night club, and have split up into two groups, male and female, they are all talking about sex. Then one of the girls say's to one of the boys, "what are you all gossiping about?", she is met with a chorus of "football". Then when one one of the males asks the same question, he is met with a chorus of "shopping".
That little scene fulfilled two stereotypes, and one cold fact.

The fact is both males, and females talk a lot about sex, the difference is the way that they talk about it.
A group of males will talk happily about which order they would have the members of Girls Aloud in, and talk about it in a serious though not hushed tone, as if the likelihood was actually on the menu.
Females on the other hand - this may cause a wry smile on any female readers, and worried eyebrow raising on any males - tend to be more personal, and talk about their own sex life, both past and current.
So when there had been a documentary on tv recalling the history of corporal punishment in Britain, needless to say caused a conversation between my wife and her workmate Marie which I was told went some thing like this.

"Did you see that spanking program last night?" Marie asked my wife Eva.

"Yeah I caught a bit of it." My wife lied, we had of course watched it in its entirity.

"You know some people get off on all that stuff?"

"What a bit slap and tickle you mean?" My wife asked innocently.

"Mmmh, that and a bit more.....you know harsher stuff?"

"You ever fancy that like," my wife asked then added. "or would you want to be a schoolie bent over for the cane from an irate headmaster?"

According to my wife this caused a sudden rush of blood to Marie's face, then with a little shrug of her shoulders she whispered.

"It has crossed my mind, but how do I bring something like that up with Mick, he sort of is a bit traditional....you know with sex and that."

"The word your looking for is vanilla." my wife informed her mate.

"Vanilla?"

"Yeah like the ice cream," my wife knew now that she was going to have to expand her explantion further. "every one prefers different flavoured ice creams , but everyone likes vanilla. Sex is like that, everyone has little quirks but at the end of the day they all like good old fashioned screwing as well."

"So are you a vanilla girl?" Marie asked Eva.

"No not me. I'm a rum and raisin girl." My wife replied, and then went on to tell Marie all about our prediliction to the more painful side of the pleasure and the pain.

Needless to say I was not amused, somethings you prefer to keep if not secret, certainly you would prefer not to have as common knowledge!
My annoyance was made clear to her when I went into the kitchen and came back with large green plastic slotted spoon. As spoons go for spanking, the plastic variety are much superior to the wooden ones, as they somehow generate a burny sting to them rather than just a plain impact sting.

"Right my girl," I told Eva, "you are in for a right blistering here, and no aardvarks!"

I had better explain the aardvarks, it's our safe word. We picked aardvark because it was not likely to be a word that would be used in any pleas for mercy. Now if anyone can think of how that word would come up naturaly in any sort of spanko scenario I would love to know of it? Until that day though it will remain our safe word, but as I said this was going to be an aardvark free punishment.
Now spanking a spanko for punishment may seem like an odd idea, I assure though that once the aardvark line is crossed, it is a punishment!

"Please Tom!" my wife implored, "I was only seeing if they might be up for a bit of fun that's all."

For all that she was pleading for keeping her bottom at normal room temperature. I guess by the fact that she was also undoing her jeans as she spoke meant that in her heart of hearts she realised that she was in for it.
I took up the traditional place in the centre of our sofa as Eva jeans reached her knees, she looked at me a little insure of what to do next.

"Come on knicks down girl, " I tell her making my intentions quite clear, "you didn't ecpect to be keeping them up did you?"

She shook her head sullenly as her fingers went to the waistband of her pale blue knickers, and they soon to joined her bunched up jeans around her knees, then with a big sigh she lowered herself over my lap. Her eyes would be fixed upon the carpet - a pattern that we have both had ample opportunities to study - waiting for the first stroke in quite anticipation. So of course I let her wait.

"So you really thought it was a good idea did you?" I ask her, my palm carressing her milky soft buttocks.

"Well if they were up for it.......it may have been a bit fun...you know we could have some games and stuff...AAAH!"

She exclaimed as the first hit of the spoon landed in a suprise attack, an attack that I pressed home with much vigour alternating quickly from cheek to cheek. Of course not only her cheeks came in for my attention, the tops of her thighs were also in my target area, though I tended to hit them more lightly. I look upon the thighs - front and back - to be fair game, though not as well padded as her posterior they always elicit a strong reaction from Eva when brought into play.

The spanking was not a long one, for as I said this was not meant to be fun, it was though quite harsh her milky buttocks soon pinked under my attention. At a guess the aardvark would have appeared after about a minute of such chastisement. Of course though this was not to be a day for aardvarks - though the anteater in my pants was getting rathered stirred, I'm uncut so my penis relaxed has a rather anteatery look about him - so I would say by about the third minute I could safely garuantee that both Eva's tears, and her pleas of contrition were both genuine.
I helped Eva back to her feet, allowing her to briefly rub her bottom as I pulled her jeans and knickers down further till they were well wrapped about her ankles.

"Right, into the corner you know the rules!" I told my weeping spouse, "Hands on head, no rubbing your arse!"

As she shuffled into place, her steps hindered by her jeans and underwear, I switched on the TV to watch the local 6.30 news. What would happen if we had company, an unexpected visitor perhaps?
We had decided long ago, that should that surprise occurence take place, well it's just tough for the spankee. As of yet it has never happened, but the fear of the extra humiliation is still there at the back of the spankee's mind.
Then just before the start of Emmerdale marking the end of Eva's thirty minutes, I stood behind her and whispered.

"Well were they?"

"What? Who what." My wife asked in obvious confusion.

"Were they up for it?"

"She was!" Eva, said her voice now perking up as she looked at me and smiled.

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