Divide and Conquer (Part Two)

Readers who wish to follow the story from the beginning are encouraged to start here.

I love being an empty-nester. I miss our daughter sometimes, but not so much that I wish she were back with us full time. Happily, she is grown and has her own life now. Randy and I are free to seek our own adventures. …and what adventures! Those were the thoughts that passed through my mind as I floated down the misty passage that divides dreams from consciousness.

I became aware that I was alone in a strange bed. Randy had left, but his spot beside me retained some of his warmth. It was still dark, though I felt as though I had slept for days. I fumbled to find the clock radio and to my surprise, it read 9:43. AM or PM? Could we have missed a whole day? That seemed impossible.

I rose from the bed and threw open the heavy drapes. What I saw outside was not night at all, but rather a dark morning with a heavy rain storm in progress. I shook off the drowsiness and worked to get my bearings. Randy was in the shower. We had a performance to attend at one o’clock. This was vacation.

When Randy emerged from the bathroom, he shot me a sly smile. The gleam in his eye told me that he had plans for me. He told me that he was glad I was awake. Still naked as the day he was born, I could see that his gladness was genuine. He encouraged me to lie across his lap. Sleepy but willing, I did so. My lover delivered four nice crisp swats on the fullest part of my bottom before abruptly halting.

“This won’t do.” His voice was serious.

“What? Why?” I stammered in hopes of somehow remedying whatever stood between me and this lovely little hand spanking.

“Too loud. Get up and lie flat on the bed.”

His wish was my command. I arranged myself prostrate in the center of the bed. Randy then moved me closer to the edge and separated my legs so that my feet were apart. He produced from his bag the same crop he had employed so effectively the previous evening.

He began this spanking with light flicking snaps all over my bottom. This hurt, to be sure, but these transient stings merely stimulated my spanko appetite. After a while, my man turned up the intensity. Particularly memorable were several blows to my seldom spanked inner slopes. Eventually, he had me jumping with each strike of the leather tip. By the time he completed his fleshy artwork in crimson, my entire bottom was alight with a toasty glow.

We made love at the edge of the bed. I knelt facing the center of the bed and he took me from behind while standing. I adore this position. I always feel very submissive and completely filled by his love.

I enjoyed a quick but refreshing shower. Afterward, I couldn’t resist admiring my fresh marks in the mirror. Randy did a nice job. My entire bottom was covered in red blotches, and it felt just like it looked. As I turned a bit father, I noticed one wayward crop head impact about two or three inches down my right thigh. That, I recalled, must have happened when I jumped.

Next, I prepared myself for the day. We had tickets to two performances. I thought my long flower print skirt and a sleeveless pink top would be perfect for a steamy summer day. Once again, my husband, lover, and self-styled fashion consultant intervened.

“How about those white shorts?” he inquired hopefully.

“No way!” I had no desire to show off my marks in a public place.

“Really? What not?” His tone was more curious than insistent.

“I don’t want my marks to show.” I tried to sound firm.

“You don’t know anybody within a hundred miles. Besides, if someone asks, you can tell them you sat in brambles.” I could tell he was proud of this witty comeback.

“Brambles? Are you insane? Why would anyone sit in brambles?” I was a lot more amused than I was showing at this point.

“Maybe you lost your balance?” I was fighting back a giggle.

“OK. Since when do brambles leave a mark like this?” With that, I whirled around and pointed to the mark in question.

He smacked the spot hard with his hand.

“Hey! No fair.”

“Now it looks like brambles. Put on your white shorts.”

I decided that I had been defeated by inferior logic. I put on the shorts over my obligatory thong. I hadn’t even finished buttoning them before Randy told me how beautiful he thought I looked. He was again all over me, squeezing my very sore posterior, massaging my breasts, and kissing my neck. I would consider selling those shorts as an aphrodisiac, except that they appear to work on only one man.

As I was applying makeup, I twisted around to check how apparent the mark was. It was plenty visible well below the bottom hem of my shorts. Anyone who had ever spanked or been spanked with a crop would probably recognize the pattern. I figured the dark thong would be very visible as well, but the thicker denim was opaque. Unlike the previous evening, only the thin outline was discernable.

Having missed breakfast entirely, we wandered out into the rain in search of lunch. We found a small restaurant down a side street about a block from the theater. They offered a varied menu organized around the concept of Pan-Mediterranean cuisine. This, I learned, meant an ambitious combination of Spanish, French, Italian, Greek, Middle Eastern, and North African specialties. Feeling bold after his morning conquest, Randy opted for falafel (complete with the chef’s secret sauce). I ordered the house salad with olives and feta. Both were tastefully presented and sustaining (They weren’t all that great, but I’m telling a story here, OK?).

What I will recall about this particular establishment, however, was not the food, but the seating. They had chairs where the seat was a dome-like metal grid. This design could not have been comfortable for the majority of patrons who had not been recently spanked. As for me, I could hardy keep still. My bottom was quite tender and that chair didn’t help at all. Randy observed my discomfort and appeared more amused than concerned.

We arrived at the theater in reasonably dry condition about a half hour before the curtain. This gave us time to look around the many exhibits before finding our seats. This play was a drama. The story was rather sad, but the message was a positive one. Again, the performers were wonderful. It was a young cast and they managed to totally immerse me in the story.

After the show, we hung out in a very cool bookstore until it was time for dinner. This experience reminded me of how much I miss independent booksellers. Their slow, agonizing demise at the hands of chains and the internet is a real loss for anyone who loves books.

Perhaps it was just my imagination, but I thought there was one younger fellow who was spying on me in the bookstore. By this time, my telltale welt had faded, but it wasn’t entirely gone. When I mentioned this to Randy, he laughed and told me that *he* was definitely staring at my butt through the stacks.

Our dinner was the landmark meal of the trip. We drove out to a local winery that also serves gourmet dinners. We had what I can describe only as a four course feast. It made me glad I had a salad for lunch. The appetizer was sautéed wild mushrooms with herbs. The salad was mixed organic greens with peppercorn dressing. For the main course, I ordered baked tilapia. Randy enjoyed a broiled lobster tail. It was all excellent. I thought I had no room for dessert until they brought the dark chocolate mousse with an assortment of fresh berries. Randy didn’t have to remind me that it was full of healthy anti-oxidants. Just wow!

Our evening show was a rollicking musical comedy, complete with plenty of singing and dancing. The costumes were splendid and the cast seemed to be genuinely having fun. This infectious happiness spread into the audience to make this a fine night out and an appropriate conclusion to our theater trip.

It was a long, hot, tiring day and by the end of it, I was ready to fall into bed. Even so, Randy still had the energy to kiss and lick what was left of my welts. This felt good, especially when it devolved into oral sex. Looking back, I have to admit that, despite my complaints, I too find Randy’s unusual brand of spanko exhibitionism a turn-on. It was a pleasurable day and one to be remembered.

The following day’s drive home was uneventful and largely anticlimactic. We were still tired, but it was hard not to smile at our good fortune. We agreed to plan these escapes more often.

Keywords: spanking, vacation spanking, riding crop, spanking story, spanking and sex, Bonnie, erotic spanking