A Toasty Yule

Here's how we celebrate Christmas at our house!

As I have chronicled before, my husband Randy takes a special delight in playing my emotions like a harp. It’s not enough for him to just give me a good spanking. He has to introduce the element of risk. How humiliating would it be if our friends learned that he paddles me like a naughty child? That particular disclosure hasn’t happened yet (thank goodness!), but a number of strangers are definitely aware of this proclivity, thanks to his many clever schemes. Sometimes, this game concerns me. In an odd way, though, it’s an incredible turn-on as well. Whatever the reason, I’m never hotter than after he lights my fire in a semi-public setting. Even the memory of those events is thrilling.

This Christmas, I hoped to turn the tables just a bit. Randy is forever launching double entendre remarks or playfully swatting my rump in front of other people. What, I wondered, would happen if I were to surprise him for a change? My plan was to wrap up a pair of thin black leather gloves and present them to him at our family Christmas celebration. These gloves have no lining and wouldn’t keep anyone’s hands the least bit warm. Still, they were very soft and sexy. I figured he would recognize their real purpose immediately. What I sought was that look of surprise and that moment of nervous restraint he so often elicits from me.

When the twenty fifth of December rolled around, we collected our sleepyhead daughter and drove to Randy’s Mom’s house to participate in our big holiday gathering. Randy’s sister, her husband, and their kids also attended. After the traditional dinner, all eight celebrants retired to the living room for the gift exchange. I purposely slipped my special package under the pile. We each took turns opening presents and expressed the customary ooo’s and ahhh’s. Randy gave me a lovely pair of diamond studs. The man has taste!

As I had hoped, the gloves were among the last gifts to be opened. He had already opened a couple of other items from me, so he may not have expected anything more. He grabbed the thin package and tore off the paper. He stared for a moment and then wryly smiled. “Look everyone,” he said holding up the package, “a new pair of gloves.” Staring directly at me, he added, “I can’t wait to try them out. Thanks, Bon!” So much for table turning. I was suddenly the one who was blushing.

Fortunately, no one else had any inkling about that exchange. The rest of the visit went quite well. It was nice to catch up with Randy’s family. I think everyone had a pleasant time. At one point during the proceedings though, Randy took me aside and whispered in my ear, “Wait until I get you home, little miss.” That was pretty much the reaction I had expected. Nevertheless, a squadron of butterflies took flight in my stomach. You’d think after all these years, the veiled suggestion of a spanking might become passé, but it hasn’t. Not even when I basically asked for it.

After we arrived home, we weren’t able to field test his new acquisition for two whole days. Busy schedules and foul weather conspired to extend our wait. Finally, in the early evening of the third day, as our daughter left for work, it was time to face the music. We hadn’t really discussed it, but as soon as she closed the door behind her, we both knew what would happen next. Randy peered straight into my eyes as we sat at the kitchen table. I knew that look all too well. The moment was at hand.

“I believe we have a matter to discuss,” Randy announced in his best disciplinarian voice. His tone was insistent, though not harsh. He took my hand as I got up out of my chair. He got behind me and guided me toward the stairs. With each step, my nervousness grew again. The intervening hours had served only to magnify my anticipation. By the time we reached our bedroom, my breath was shallow and rapid.

My lover led me not to the bed, but to an upholstered chair he dragged from the corner of the room. There, he positioned me so that I was lying over one arm. Uncharacteristically, my jeans were left on. “Do you see these?” he sternly inquired. “Yes,” I mewed, look at the gloves. “Just what were you thinking?” I shrugged. Clearly unsatisfied with that response, he said, “Why would you give me these gloves in front of everyone?” He was playing and I knew it. Still, it was exciting to think that my tough husband might soon have to teach me a harsh lesson.

He made a production of taking the gloves from their package and placing them over his fingers and around his hand. “You know, of course, that I am going to have to spank you” he lectured. I followed along. “Yes, sir.” Randy placed his leather-clad right palm against the seat of my blue denim pants. He slapped my derriere, several times on each side. I could tell he was trying to read my reaction. The truth was that twenty some years of regular spankings with all manner of nasty wooden implements has toughened my bottom to the point where this combination simply didn’t have much effect. After a few more determined whacks, he decided that something needed to change. He had me raise my hips in order to unbutton, unzip, and lower my jeans. I complied.

No sooner were the troublesome slacks dispatched than he began his assault anew. Now my target was considerably more available. Only a thin layer of cotton now lay between my skin and his leather. His hand delivered a dozen or so quick, stinging smacks. This time, I could definitely feel the results of his efforts. Next, I experienced the deliciously cool smoothness of the leather gloves as the hands within them caressed my hips, thighs, and bottom. Slowly, my love peeled away the last measure of protection as he slid my panties down to meet my jeans around my knees. My upturned orbs were now totally exposed.

Rather than resume the spanking right away, Randy kept rubbing. I cooed with approval as his slippery hands explored my curves. Goosebumps rose in response to this marvelous stimulus. When he returned to the business at hand, my lover placed his left hand in the middle of my right cheek. He lifted the fleshy portion to stretch the skin along my lower slope. He proceeded to use his right hand to whack the daylights out my vulnerable sit-spot. This tactic generated more discomfort than I had imagined possible using just his hand. In the name of evenhandedness, he then repeated his efforts on my opposite buttock. Ouch!

Once my spanking had concluded, Randy helped me up from the chair. I was a bit dizzy and disoriented from all of the excitement. He removed my clothing and then his own, except for those new gloves! My prince positioned himself on his back in the middle of our bed. He gestured for me to join him. I eagerly straddled my sexy husband. Those shiny, smooth black hands were at once grasping my breasts. This encounter was amazingly sensual. He gave me quite a wild ride. By the time we reached the summit, he had me emitting guttural calls and quaking for all I was worth. My, oh my.

Later, as we lay together basking in the afterglow, Randy remarked that he really liked his new gloves. Let’s give him credit for observing the obvious. He snuggled up behind me. Again those wicked gloves squeezed and handled my glowing posterior. I loved that feeling and I told him so. He promised me that his special present wouldn’t stay stuffed in a closet like some unappreciated Christmas tie. I’m counting on holding him to his word!

Keywords: spanking, Christmas spanking, spanking stories