Welcome to the Winter Spanks and Saturday Spankings
Cold Hands Warm Bottoms Blog Hop
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Follow the links to read the blogs–comment on the blog to prove you were there– each comment earns you one entry for the grand prize. You must provide your email address for your entry to count. Individual pages may also have their own form of entry (Rafflecopter, ) for additional chances to win prizes. Enjoy all the free stories, posts, & fun!
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What kind of hat did Jennifer and Joe use for their snowman?
Pay close attention, while you enjoy my all new,
original short story
"Don't Put Off 'Til Tomorrow"
Climbing the stairs for the umpteenth time, she sighed wearily having considerably less energy than when she’d started that morning. She loved the holidays but hated the aftermath, the clean-up, especially the un-decorating and hauling a bazillion boxes of decorations down to the storage room in the basement.
Finished, she decided a cup of mulled cider and a comfy chair in front of the fire were in order. Not only was she done with the un-decorating, she had done it before the deadline her husband Joe had set. A chronic procrastinator, Jennifer Allen often found herself the object of her husband’s disappointed frown. Although a successful professional, her personal business was often delayed in favor of other more enjoyable pursuits such as, reading, sleeping, Facebook time, and she’d often paid the price for it—or her bottom had.
You see, her husband was a spanker. Mostly for fun, during sexy time in the bedroom. However, he’d also wasted no time taking his wife to task over the years; especially when she was in her 'put off until tomorrow' mode. Over the course of their marriage, he had come home to a dark, cold house several times because she had forgotten to pay the power bill. Or, had wandered into the kitchen at 2 am to find her making cookies for one of the kid’s school functions, having put the baking off until the last minute. Then there was the time she had gotten the flu and been hospitalized with dehydration even though he had reminded her repeatedly to get her flu shot that year.
As she walked toward the kitchen, she noticed the calendar and smiled, very pleased with herself. It was the first Saturday of the New Year and everything had been put away. A chemical smell assailed her nose as she entered the hallway and there was a distinct chill in the air. Home for two weeks on Christmas vacation, Joe was putting a fresh coat of paint on their Master bedroom as promised. Undoubtedly, he'd opened the windows. Shaking her head, she thought of how difficult it had been to pick out the right paint color. Joe had been patient, knowing how she liked everything just perfect, but his patience had worn thin when Monday had rolled around and she still hadn’t made a decision.
“Pick a color now, Jennifer Lynn,” he’d said sternly. “If you don’t choose, I’ll do it for you and be warned... I’m partial to red lately, the same shade your butt is going to be if you don’t make up your mind today. I only have four more days on break and I want this done.”
That had been yesterday and had motivated her to select a soft, Pomona green which matched the new comforter her mother had given her for Christmas.
The microwave dinged pulling her from her reverie. Breathing in the scent of cinnamon and apples, she sighed in delight, grabbing an oatmeal raisin cookie, before heading for the den to relax. When she walked in the room, she was surprised to find Joe standing at the bay window looking out.
“Hey honey, how’s the painting going?”
“Slow, but I’ve got the first coat on and it’s looking good. I’m just taking a break while it dries.” At forty four, Joe was still a fine looking man. His wavy brown hair was a bit long and fell in a wave over his forehead. His chocolate brown eyes were framed with silky long lashes that she envied every time she applied a coat of mascara to her own. He had a strong jaw and she noted a scruff of beard as he lowered his coffee mug to the desktop. Broad shoulders, narrow waist without the middle aged paunch so many men his age sported, she also knew he had muscular thighs and a killer ass from the many miles he spent jogging every week.
“What have you been up to, honey?”
“I just lugged the last of the Christmas decorations down to the storage room.”
“Is that what all that banging was? You didn’t do the Christmas tree box by yourself, did you?”
“It wasn’t bad,” she said with a shrug. It had actually been an ordeal. Too heavy for her to lift alone, she had slid it down the carpeted steps one at a time. The tiled foyer had been the tricky part, as well as the wooden stairs leading down to the basement. He’d told her to leave it for him, but she wanted it done and everything out of sight.
“Jen,” was his long suffering growl of exasperation. “I wish you hadn’t done that. That box weighs more than you do.”
“I’m stronger than I look and handled it just fine.” Setting her steaming cup on the end table, she changed the subject quickly. “Mind if I start a fire? It’s rather chilly in here.”
“Yeah, I cracked the windows in the bedroom because the paint fumes were beginning to get to me.” He turned his attention back to the window. “It’s just for a little while, because the temperature is dropping and the snows beginning to pile up.”
The gas logs ignited with a single touch of the remote and immediately started to heat the room. Joining Joe at the window, Jen slipped her arms around him from behind. Twisting at the waist, he wrapped a long arm around her shoulders and brought her into his side. Together they watched the snow fall in big, wet flakes.
“Let’s go build a snowman.” Jen suggested out of nowhere.
“You’re kidding, right? We haven’t done that since the kids were little.”
“And most of the time they grumbled and moaned about getting all their winter garb on. It was you and I that really wanted to do it.”
Laughing, he nodded. “I remember trying to get boots on Jason. To this day, whenever I see him, he’s barefoot.” Smiling at the memory, she could tell he was tempted by the opportunity to play. He just needed convincing. “I don’t know. I’ve still got a lot to do in the bedroom.”
“It can wait a bit, can’t it? Besides, you said the paint needed to dry.”
“Are you trying to corrupt me with your 'tomorrow is the best day of the week' philosophy?”
“Come on, honey. Let’s have some fun. Before we’re so old and decrepit we’re afraid to risk a fractured hip.”
Soon, bundled in coats and boots, hats, scarves and mittens, they were out in the snow.
“I brought the wardrobe,” Jennifer said excitedly showing him the carrot nose, buttons and scarf she carried in an old straw hat. “All we need is twigs for the arms.”
“Uh, honey. I think we need to build old Frosty before we can trick him out in his fancy duds.”
“I know. I’m just excited. How about you start on the base and I do the head?”
Together they worked, rolling the large snowballs and assembling their man of snow. Joe cut two twigs for arms as Jen decorated his face and dressed him. When they were done, they stepped back, standing arm in arm as they admired the excellent job they had done. “He’s the best one we’ve ever built, honey.”
“The snow was perfect for it.” He noticed her shivering and rubbing her arms. Brushing snowflakes from her nose, he bent a kissed her cold lips. “I’d better get you back inside before you freeze.”
“Too late,” she quipped, dramatically putting on a show of chattering teeth and shivering, before heading back to the warmth of the house.
Just then, the mailman came slipping and fishtailing down the snow covered street in his small vehicle. “Go on inside,” Joe said as he headed for the mailbox. “I’ll get the mail and be right in.”
By the time he got inside, she was in front of the fire, a chenille throw around her legs and feet propped on a footstool thawing them by the heat of the blaze. She watched Joe sit down at his desk and begin opening the mail. Seeing he was occupied, she grabbed her kindle off the end table. With a heavy sigh of contentment, she opened the newest spanking romance in her queue. A fan of romance, she had discovered spanking stories recently, about loving couples in domestic discipline relationships like her own. Most were sweet and sexy with strong alpha male leads, just like her Joe.
She had just gotten to a good part when Joe’s deep voice called to her from across the room.
“Jen? Did you remember to pay the credit card bill when you got your bonus?”
Oh, crap! She’d gotten her year-end bonus right before Christmas. It was more than enough to cover the $1200 Visa bill she had racked up on Black Friday. She’d promised Joe that she would pay the bill in full with her bonus, long before the finance charges hit. Unfortunately, she’d put it off in the Christmas hustle and bustle, and then forgot all together.
“I’m sorry, honey. I got the bonus and deposited the money, but I think I forgot to transfer the funds.”
“I know I didn’t.”
“I know you didn’t also, because here is the bill with interest applied. Why did you use this card? The interest rate is still sky high where you were late paying the last time.”
She sat there silently, unwilling to admit that the other card was maxed out and she’d had no choice. Her bonus would make a hefty dent in that balance as well.
“Well… I, um—“
“Never mind, I can look up the account online. While I do that, go get your purse. I’ll take your credit cards and check card. You, young lady, are going on a cash only budget.”
“But, Joe that’s not fair.”
“No, what’s not fair is being delinquent on payments and risking our good credit rating—not to mention the late fee and the added interest. I’d like to retire one day, you know.”
“You’re exaggerating. Your retirement is at least 20 years away. I make good money and so do you. I also have the money to pay it off. What was the interest, all of $20? I’ll cover that, too.” Her voice had risen with annoyance as she laid out her defense. She wasn’t sure why she was arguing when she was clearly in the wrong. He had a right to be upset with her.
“I don’t like your tone, Jennifer Lynn. If you can’t manage the responsibility of credit, you won’t be allowed to use it. Now, go get your purse and don’t make me repeat myself again.”
Stomping her foot in frustration, she stalked into the kitchen where she’d left her purse. Digging inside for her wallet, she pulled it out and stomped back toward the den, shoving a dining room chair out of the way as she went. Lost in her own misery, she narrowly avoided walking into Joe who stood watching from the doorway, an eyewitness to her childish behavior.
“You’re already in trouble. Acting like a brat now isn’t doing you any favors, so I suggest you tone it down.”
Frowning at him, she stomped past him and in a pique of frustration, slapped her debit and two credit cards on the desk. She then folded her arms and gave him a look that clearly said where he could stick the damn cards. Instead, she asked, “How will I survive? I can’t believe you are doing this.”
“On cash. This country still uses currency you know, my dear.”
“Now who’s being flippant?” She accused, her tone rife with impertinence. Regretting her words as soon as they left her mouth, she immediately started to back pedal. “Joe, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so hateful.”
His body language spoke volumes, an apology was much too little and far too late. As she eyed his rigid, determined stance, she noticed for the first time what he held in his hand.
“What are you going to do with that?” Jen’s voice shook slightly as she watched Joe cross the room and pull out the desk chair.
“I am going to blister your butt with it, of course. Come here and assume the position.”
He promptly sat and patted his thigh, the innocent looking paint stirrer gripped firmly in his spanking hand. After two and a half decades on the receiving end, she knew well that the most innocuous looking implement often packed the biggest punch—so to speak.
“Don’t argue or it’ll be worse for you,” he said in frustration. “In twenty-five years of marriage, I still haven’t been able to curb your tendency for procrastination. It’s always I’ll do it later or I’ll get to it tomorrow. Except with you, tomorrow and later never come. Important things like brake lights, mortgage and credit card payments, and refilling your prescriptions cannot be put off.”
Jennifer looked at the disappointment on her husband’s face and felt terrible. He was right, as usual. Hesitantly, she walked up to him. As required, she pulled down her pants and panties before lowering herself over his lap. “I’m sorry, Joe. I’ll try to do better. I promise.”
“I’ve heard that assurance before.” Joe pulled her close, anchoring her with a strong arm. “Hopefully, you will remember this paddling long into the future. Effective immediately, I’m taking over all the bill paying and you are going on a strict cash system. It’s the only way I can think to keep our good credit intact. However, if you don’t correct this behavior of delaying, stalling and putting off until tomorrow, you can expect to be in this position a lot more often. Now get comfortable, babe, because you’re going to be here a while.”
The thin wooden paint stick landed with a thwack and she gasped at the stinging fire that blazed across her bottom. She also felt his strong arm wrapped around her waist, his hand splayed wide keeping her in place. She smelled his masculine scent, a mixture of his soap, the outdoors, and his own special essence. The intimate act surprisingly made her feel close to him, knowing he spanked because he cared about her and for the good of their marriage. It had been too long since she had been here and she couldn’t think of another place she’d rather be.
Another stroke landed, and she hissed as the hot fiery lick flared across her behind. Well… maybe she could think of one or two others. A third stroke followed and the beach and the spa came to mind. With each stroke, she thought of another more pleasant place to be. By the twentieth she was wishing herself at the dentist for a root canal, which with Novocain, would have been preferable to the scorching fire in her seat.
Finally, he was done and his hand began to rub her sore bottom. His hand was gentle and soothing, causing the heat to coalesce and spread to the neglected area, between her thighs. Soon his fingers were teasing her there and she arched into his hand.
The next moment her view was the ceiling instead of the floor. Yelping, as she was flipped upright and carried in Joe’s strong arms as he headed for the bedroom. At the last minute, he surprised her by veering into the guest room, but he explained in two words, “wet paint.”
“Are you still angry with me, honey?”
“No, you screwed up but were punished. Now, we’ve got a plan and are moving on.”
“Yes, but the memory lingers on, doesn’t it?” She smiled, snuggling into his arms.
“You mean with a sore butt?”
“No, I mean without plastic. How long am I to be punished?”
“As long as it takes.”
Setting her pouting aside, she reached up to cup his jaw. ““I’m really sorry, baby. I don’t know why I act the way I do sometimes, it seems to be worse of late.”
“I think you need my special attention more often to keep you on track.”
“I do to, but mostly I need you. I thank God every day that I have you. I love you, big guy.”
“I love you too, baby.” He tossed her on the bed and following her down, pulled her into his arms. He proceeded to show her how wonderful prompt timely attention to detail could be.