The kitchen is the perfect place to administer spankings. There's all those utensils, some of which make fantastic implements, plenty of bench space to hold onto and bend over, and water - after all, nothing stings worse than a spanking on wet skin!
I'm sharing an excerpt today out of a BDSM story I once wrote that will probably never see the light of day; this part is of a spanking in the kitchen:
I’m going to spank you with as many things in the kitchen utensil drawer as possible. Sound like fun?” Tom nods, not caring whether I find the idea entertaining or not. “I thought so. I knew you’d like it.”
Yanking open the drawer, Tom pulls out the first utensil he comes across – a plastic serving spoon with Tupperware written on the handle. I cringe at what the Tupperware lady would think of her spoon being used in such a manner. Tom slaps it against his palm. “Bend over my fair lady, lets redden your bottom with this.”
I obey, putting my hands on the kitchen bench, taking a step back and bending over, spreading my legs and poking my bottom out provocatively, proudly displaying to my husband everything I have. The shirt I am wearing covers nothing, and of course I am naked from the waist down. Tom wastes no time in spanking me with the spoon, he raises it high and brings it down sharply 3 times on each cheek, leaving little red splotches in its wake.
Putting the spoon down on the bench beside me, he rummages through the drawer again, this time pulling out a rubber spatula that I use for scraping the bowl when baking. Even with all my many years of experience at being a spankee, never would I have thought of using a rubber spatula!
Tom wastes no time in applying six strokes of the spatula to my waiting bottom, and even though I do my best not to react, I stretch up on my tip-toes in a vain attempt to avoid the stinging rubber blade. Tom laughs gleefully – in the space of 24 hours he’s found 3 new stingy spanking implements that it would never have occurred to us to use as anything other than their intended purpose.
Laying the spatula on the bench next to the wooden spoon Tom dives back into the utensil drawer once more. I want to protest, to tell him that I’ve already have my requisite dozen smacks, and it’s time for a coffee, but I know better. To complain will only give me double what I’ve already had, and then some! So I remain stoically in position, wondering what other kitchen utensil Tom will see fit to spank me with ... to possibly be continued one day ...
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