Talk Dirty to Me

 I had to scroll through many images of women tied to trees and spanked to find this one. Worth the hunt!

I hadn’t wanted to go to Seattle, and had been annoyingly vocal about it. I was even tired of hearing myself whine about having to be out of the house and in a car for too long, even though I didn’t have to drive. The reason for going was good. Mr. W’s brother and his wife were in Seattle for three days for the brother’s work, but they had a few hours free before they had to go back home to Arizona on Sunday. Portland is three hours away from Seattle but obviously much farther away from Arizona, so if we wanted to see them - which we did - this was the time. We’d agreed to drive up, leaving our house at 6am to meet them around 9am for breakfast. Then we’d have a bit of time to poke around the city together before we took them to the airport. The problem was that I’ve been a homebody recently - well, always, but even more-so since 2013 arrived with a vengeance - and I just didn’t want to leave the house. I’m ashamed to say that I kept hoping the trip would be canceled.

When we crossed the Oregon-Washington border at 6:30, it was clear that trip was not going to be canceled. “I’m anxious,” I told Mr. W as we headed ever farther north. We passed a state patrolman.

“Well, you’ll need to work on staying calm, and help keep me calm as well. Did you see that state trooper? In Washington, if they pull you over, they spank the passenger.”

I started giggling and my tension finally started to ease. “If we get caught, what do you think he’ll spank me with? Hand? Belt?”

“Car antenna,” said Mr. W, referencing a line from an Eddie Murphy stand-up performance from the 80's.

I shook my head. “Ugh! No thank you! I don’t understand spanking with non-natural materials. Those plastic paddles you see sometimes? Or rubber.” I shudder to make my point. “Yuck.”

“I’ve seen some rubber paddles lately that are interesting,” said Mr. W. “I’ve been spending some time browsing for toys for your bottom. But no, I don’t like plastic either.”

My memory flashed to a spanking film I’d seen years ago where a model is late for her shoot and is spanked with a little floppy rubber paddle that turns her bright pink so quickly that it always made me wonder what one would do to my bottom, which takes so long to color or mark these days that it requires spankings multiple days in a row to get the desired effect. I blushed. “I’m curious about rubber,” I admitted.

Then we were on to other implements. We talked about some floggers he’d shown me a few weeks back, and a three-tailed tawse he’d been admiring. Before the trip began, I’d been worried about becoming uncomfortable during the long drive, but I hadn’t expected the discomfort to be the result of a conversation that was making me want to touch myself.

As we discussed the various ways Mr. W wanted to spank me, I began to squirm. I had on sheer black tights and a black knee-length skirt that had started to ride up as we drove. I started to lightly stroke the tops of my thighs, only to stop and pull my skirt back down, just to have it ride up all over. Mr. W noticed. “Go ahead. Touch yourself,” he encouraged.

“I don’t want to be a distraction to you,” I said. “If I distract you too much, the patrolman will come spank me.”

“You’ve distracted me already,” he said, his voice rough and deeper than his normal conversational tone. He was aroused as I was. “It’s not the police you have to worry about.”

The sun had been trying to rise, but it had given up. We were driving through a wooded area and it had begun to rain. There was nothing but road and trees, and with only gray sky above, the world was in black and white. I could see access roads winding up into the forest hills on the right side of the road. “I wish we had time to take one of those roads, to drive up to some secluded area, so you could spank me. I want you so much,” I confessed.

“I’d love to take you into the woods, raise your skirt and pull down your tights and panties, and turn you bright red.”

I sighed. “My bottom would be the only color in the black and white world.” I thought back to our talk of getting pulled over. “Would you use your belt on me?”

He swallowed. “Of course. But it’s raining, your bottom would be wet. The leather would smack and stick to you, sliding over you slowly, my strokes stinging that much more.”

I let my hand slide up my thigh to touch myself over my tights. We passed a big-rig truck; I removed my hand from my skirt, wondering if the driver had seen. “I want that so much,” I whispered.

We were on a tight schedule and I didn’t have a change of clothes with me. I couldn’t show up looking wet, beaten, and disheveled for a nice breakfast with his family. We didn’t take the side road, we didn’t expose my backside to the elements and wet leather, but we did talk about spanking for the rest of the drive. It was a three hour trip, and over two-thirds of it was spanking talk. We talked about spanking films, spanking me, this blog, toys we wanted, and so much more. We even imagined what the “Farm Boy Drive In,” might be after we saw a sign with no further explanation. We decided it was where farm boys could drive in and select their favorite bottoms from a row of farm girls. In my imagination, there were farmer’s daughters with red-checked blouses and tiny denim shorts,  strong farm-hand girls, their hair red and curly, their arms and legs strong but delicate, as well as a few Swiss Miss-style milk-maids, for good measure.  (I Googled it and it turns out it’s a family-style restaurant, not an open-air spanking farm. Darn.)

The long conversation has resulted in a very busy week for us. On the one hand, it has kept me from writing. On the other, I have plenty of fodder now. We’ve both been in spanking heat all week. We’ve had mornings where I’ve gone to kiss Mr. W good bye and suddenly he’s slapping at my bottom, telling me to just wait until I get home. We’ve had evenings where we meant to take a break, but the break, after we’ve tried to just have dinner and watch TV, consisted of the strap and the flogger, followed by… well, these are the other posts I need to try to write today, and over the next few days.

I am happily marked, ready for my Sunday spanking, and hoping I have time to write the rest of it down before I have even more to tell you about.