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I’ve looked at a lot of spanking pictures over the years, but I confess I don’t quite understand this one. I’ve seen girls doing a lot of things while getting spanked, but is this cute “schoolgirl” actually chewing her nails?
If she’s that bored, perhaps he needs to spank a little harder….
If you’ve ever been conflicted about being a brat, you’re not alone. Spankable writes:
Being a brat is fun; you can speak your mind; you can be cheeky; you can play pranks and joke around, and yet you’ll always know pretty much exactly where the line is and whether or not it’s a good idea to dip a toe over it, or slide your whole foot across, or occasionally, just occasionally, run as far and as fast as you can until it’s far, far behind you. You get to act out and have fun and, y’know, being a brat, you’ll probably enjoy the come-uppance as well (at least to a certain extent)!
Buuuut… a large part of my brain’s objecting. About half, actually. Shouting things like “you’re a grown-up! Act like one!” And I can act like one, when I need to. Just, at other times, I prefer letting my hair down (even if I have just had it cut). I mean, today I made cake and towards the end there were ridiculous amounts of icing sugar being used, and my hands were stuck right in it. Do you know how tempting it was to leave hand prints on my beloved? And then I decided I didn’t want a spanking today, so I didn’t :)
I recognize this vintage spanking photograph as being by Uwe Scheid, whose erotic photos were collected in a Taschen art book a few years back. It’s remarkable for its age, in that it’s got a dynamic (and welts!) that go a long way towards countering that “salon studio” look shared by so much early photography:
From vintage.
Patty’s sense of timing is way better than her sense of self-preservation:
Sunday after supper we played with spanking. I accosted him in the den right after he finished the Quicken chore. What an idiot I am! Who in her right mind would hand a man who has just spent an hour balancing an un-balanceable budget a paddle and offer up her bare ass? Me that’s who. Ok so, maybe I’m not in my right mind.
It could have been worse, I suppose. She could have gone in there after he finished doing his taxes!
Isn’t it fun when spanking is still the new thing? From Sugar Sweets:
Again, I stopped for a moment to wiggle my ass at him, hinting at what I wanted. He licked his middle finger and immediately pressed it against my tight asshole, eager to slip it inside. But I had something different in mind and moved away from his hand. “What would you like me to do?” he whispered as I felt his hard cock lightly kiss the back of my thigh with his pre-cum. I giggled like an embarrassed little schoolgirl. My face still buried in the pillow, I asked him to give me a spanking. I felt like such a naughty girl but my heart raced with excitement, knowing he’d be happy to oblige.
The heat of his flat palm against my backside sent the blood rushing to my pussy. Each slap was louder and harder than the last. I braced myself, making sure I was receiving the full strenth of his hand against my flesh. He started at the roundest part of my cheeks and then his hand gave me a few quick slaps a little further down, almost to my pussy. He knew I liked a gentle smack against my sensitive labia when I was really worked up. I raised my ass even higher.
Did you see this old photograph of the woman getting spanked with an honest-to-goodness oar over at Bondage Blog?
Bethie got a good hard caning today — 21 strong strokes with our basic rattan cane. Earned and deserved, and lots more fun to deliver than they were to receive, I’m sure. She thanked me properly after, too, so it’s been a good day.
Now she’s shifting uneasily from cheek to cheek in her computer chair. She keeps whimpering and I keep chuckling. She wants sympathy and isn’t getting it. Kisses, lotion, rubbing — those she got. But she earned every one of her cane strokes and so her “But it hurts!” just makes me smile.
I believe she’s going to blog about it soon on her blog. But if she doesn’t, you have my encouragement to pester her until she does!
Like a lot of guys, I tend to think a spanking’s not really a spanking unless it’s delivered properly onto a deliciously bare bottom. Sometimes I’ll give Bethie a few whacks when she’s fully dressed, just to see her jump; but it takes a pretty good implement to get any effect.
That said, there’s a certain appeal to tightly stretched denim. Sure, this girl looks like she’s laughing as that big mean paddle is held a quarter inch from her butt:
But it’s a BIG paddle. She’s not laughing now:
More (including her very sore bottom getting the belt) can be seen in this gallery seen on Spank Slaves; photo credits go to Real Spankings, which is part of the Real Spankings Pass family of sites.
It sounds like Librarygirl has developed something of an eBay problem with recidivism issues. Fortunately, Matt has the lexan cure:
“Oh, you forgot.” He was spanking me with his hand, then stopped. “Maybe you need something to help you remember.”
Crap! The new lexan paddle. That thing is truly evil. Even more vile than the rubber loopy. It stings and burns and the sting increases in direct proportion to how long you use it, but not necessarily how hard. So a “light” paddling turns into intense hell in under a minute. And, unlike the rubber loopy or rubber paddle, the sting doesn’t stop when the spanking does. Oh no – the sting lasts long after the spanking is over…
“I don’t need help… I don’t… I hate this thing… stop!” I was kicking and making quite a fuss.
“Maybe tomorrow night you’ll remember to get to bed on time,” he says, smacking lower so he gets the backs of my thighs.
“I’ll remember, I will…!” Anything – just make it stop!
He did, finally. And it took forever for the sting to go away.
Yet another debt we all owe to the clever folks in General Electric’s Engineering Thermoplastics division.
Although it’s not really my thing, it’s clear from some of my emails that a few of you are interested in harder stuff. Spanking, to some of you, is just the gentle end of your spectrum of painful kink. Some of you like whips, chains, and real pain — whether for the endorphin rush, the excitement of submitting to such severe impositions, or just the sheer visual drama of a girl chained up and writhing under the lash.
If you like that sort of thing (and I confess I don’t mind the eye candy aspect of it, even though it’s quite a bit beyond anywhere Bethie and I have gone; she gets pretty emphatic when I threaten to invest in a nice single-tail) you’ll probably greatly enjoy Pain Gate. This European site traffics in whippings, pretty severe ones, usually involving bondage in gritty industrial settings:
These are pretty mild “getting her ready” shots; if you click through, you can expect to see the whip striking home and leaving eye-opening welts. Please don’t click through if that’s likely to bother or offend you, and please do remember that I won’t allow my comment system to be used as a place to condemn other people’s kinks, even when they exceed yours or offend your sensibilities.
See Also:
Bethie and I are going to be taking quite a road trip in August, and it looks like we’ll get a chance to do some camping. (Don’t worry, I’ll still manage to post pretty regularly.) I keep telling her I’m going to tie her to a big birch tree in the deep woods and give her a proper switching. Somehow, I don’t think she believes me. (She really ought to….)
Anyway, I was reminded of my evil schemes by the story “Toasted MarshMallows” posted by Alex B. over on The Spanking Den:
At first, you’re quite helpful in putting up the tent, but you soon become bored and frustrated. “I’m tired of this!” you announce, tossing a tent pole to the ground as you storm off into the woods.
You return from your hike half an hour later to find that I’ve managed to finish erecting the tent on my own. You take in the pleasant aroma of something I’m busy cooking in a pot over the fire.
“Oh. Looks like you’ve got dinner going.”
“Yeah. Beef stew.” I say, turning around with a large, flat wooden spoon in my hand. I wipe the spoon clean with a cloth and start walking in your direction. “But if you want any, I imagine you’ll have to eat it standing up.”
I love it when spanking porn producers try to “hint” at the the spanking that’s looming in some unlucky cuteling’s future. The unsubtle forshadowing in this picture from Spanked Cutie made me laugh. As our summer camp girl swigs booze from a hip flask, is that a Prokadima paddle in her hand?
Of course, it’s over the knee for her:
And inevitably, the tears:
This is about how it would go around here if Bethie tried to give me a birthday spanking, though I’m not sure she’d get ten swats in first. From this post on Provocative Persiflage:
So last night, I ended up giving him approximately 10 swift swats to his ass, and he ended up grabbing me, pulling my left leg over his, and holding my wrist so I couldn’t a) cover my ass or b) finger my pussy. And then he delivered the remainder of his birthday spankings to me!
I love when he keeps me bound to him with just his strength. At first I play at pulling away. Just to see if he is paying attention. He is. As he holds my wrist(s) tighter and kisses me deeply at first, then lightly so that I am stretching up toward him to lick his lips, I begin pulling in earnest at my captor’s hands.
I feel his cock rubbing against my naked belly as he leans in and whispers in his sexy, growly voice that I am a very bad girl as he begins spanking me, never lightly, but light enough to warm my flesh. I am moaning and rubbing against him as his hand moves from my cheek to my pussy, spanking it sharply before going back to my ass. My legs part involuntarily, and I begin to beg for his fingers inside me.
He ignores my pleas and continues to spank me. His cock gets so hard that it feels like steel.
The new Sex And Submission site continues to be entertaining. You can predict that a shoot is going to be fun when it starts with a big mean-looking bald dude (Mark Davis) confronting cute young cleaning lady Harmony where she kneels with the pieces of a broken jar in her hands:
You just know she’s going to pay for it with a spanking. And you’ll not be disappointed:
And then she pays a bit more for it (while still tied up) in that other coin that’s universally accepted wherever women have accounts to settle with powerful men. You know the currency I mean: blowjobs!
Her advice on finding kinky people may seem obvious on the surface — it could be boiled down to “get your butt out there” — but it’s still important and righteous advice. This bit from the intro to Mistress Matisse’s column this week gives the flavor:
So, you—or, perhaps, you and your partner—have kinky desires but no idea where to go with them. Here’s how to find out where the other kinky folks are.
If I had anything to add to her advice, it would be a caveat that (as she herself acknowledges) her suggestions are limited in utility for more rural kinky persons. The phrase she uses at one point is “if you live in a reasonably urban area” and the key concept there is “reasonable”. I’ll say what she only hinted at: beyond a certain point, it’s simply not reasonable to pursue kinky interactions in too small a town, or in no town at all. You might get lucky (I did, and I’ve offered advice myself on finding kinky love from the middle of nowhere by online means more useful than the traditional personals sites) but a truly reasonable plan is going to require, eventually, moving to where the kinky people are.
I put it fairly mildly in my advice:
If you get him, you or he will almost certainly end up having to move — but that’s the price you pay for enlisting the awesome power of the internet to fix your love life.
Dan Savage’s recent column collecting advice to young gay people put it a bit more bluntly:
If you live in a little town: Get the fuck out. Move to a big city where there’re lots of people who are gay. You’ll have more dating options, and people will treat you with more respect.
It’s good advice for kinky people, too.
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Remember the cheesy spanking magazines from the 1970s? The ones with tons of overacting models and almost no actual spanking? This picture from vintage is a classic example of the genre:
I think I need one of those big square paddles, though…
I’ve found what has to be the mildest reaction to a good ginger figging I’ve yet seen. Annie earned herself a punishment paddling and then it went like this:
He fetched the awaiting ginger root from the glass of ice water sitting behind his desk. I felt his cool hand opening my throbbing bottom cheeks knowing what was to come. The icy wet root soon invaded my bumhole. Once deeply implanted to Robert’s satisfaction, he pulled up my shorts and ordered me to sit at his computer and write an essay for him to demonstrate I fully understood what I’d done, the effect it was having and suggestions on how to fix it. I had one hour, no more, no less. At the end of the hour I was to present myself and the essay to him upstairs.
It was a loooong hour. Trying to concentrate with that damned root blazing in my ass is not an easy thing. Then there was the assignment itself. The first two parts were easy….
And that’s the last we hear of the ginger (except when it comes out.) Damn girl! Talk about cool as a cucumber.
Of course in the context of the situation, the ginger was the least of Annie’s worries. But still.
Update: In the comments, Annie has confirmed that the ginger was the least of her worries, but has generously added the missing lurid details. Worth promoting to the main post:
A ginger root plug up one’s backside is distracting in itself, kinda like having a lit sparkler up one’s ass is distracting. Being required to SIT adds a whole ‘nother level of interest. With my cheeks pressed around the root, its fire was extended well beyond its already unholy realm. I squirmed this way, then that way trying to relieve at least one point of contact at any given time, all the while trying to write a coherent essay. Even more difficult, trying to be contrite while doing so. A sizzling ginger root plug has a way of making me just a bit testy… OK, a lot testy, making me less motivated to say “I’m sorry, dear” than express my more sincere sentiment of the moment: “you evil fucknuts, I wanna pull your eyeballs outa your asshole!” Or something like that. A true test of submission.
Then having to walk, then climb stairs, my bottom cheeks not only rubbing against the extended root but moving it around inside, further activating its wicked oozing fire making me clench my teeth to keep from screaming, each step pure torture…
You all know the stories about what the young ladies get up to at that Girls Boarding School. Apparently it’s all true — I mean, would pornography take liberties with the truth? In any case, it hardly matters. Aren’t these girls just as cute as kittens?
Uh, oh, I think they are busted:
This can only lead to tears. Sure enough:
There was a bunch of spanking leading up to that, of course, and some very sore and regretful bottoms.
If you’ve been reading A Creative Spanked Wife lately, you’ll know that Patty managed to earn herself a hard spanking every day for ten days in a row. Ouch! Apparently she got a lot of email, both sympathetic and (sigh) judgmental. I dunno if she got any jealous mail, but once all the lonely spanko girls read Fred’s note from day nine, she might start getting it. Excerpt:
You’d be proud of her submission this week. She’s been afraid. She’s been insecure. She’s been damned classy too. No man can ask for more in his submissive than that she be strong, resolved and accepting. My brat’s been that and more.
Patty’s submission is more perfect than I deserve. When she’s right, and I am right and our wills clash, she gives me her grace. Might be she bucks it for a while, might be we both miss and argue it for a while, ultimately, when life settles out, it just is. The brat yields her faith and trust to me.
She’ll tell you she struggles. She’ll tell you she fights me. WEG. She’s a brat. Even when she’s good, she’s bad.
This is another one of those foolish-but-cute non-spankings that you often see pretty porn starlet girls indulging in:
In this case, the ladies are known as the Taylor Twins, and wouldn’t you say they look ready for more?
Cute indeed, but I wish they’d lose the hooker shoes.
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Spanking Blog doesn’t often mention or comment on news stories like this one, because there’s nothing erotic about criminal charges:
Strippers Arrested in Alleged Spanking
3 Strippers and Two Club Managers in Arkansas Arrested for Allegedly Injuring Man With SpankingJul. 10, 2005 – Three strippers and two nightclub managers have been arrested for allegedly spanking a Bald Knob trucker at his 31st birthday bash and severely bruising his backside.
After his friends paid $25, Keith Lowery was handcuffed and spanked with a 3-foot-long paddle and a belt while one of the strippers restrained his head with her legs, investigators with the Pulaski County Sheriff’s Office said.
Kelly Eslick, 21, a stripper at Sensations nightclub in Jacksonville, northeast of Little Rock, admitted to police that she used a paddle drilled with holes for less air resistance while the two other dancers, Lisa Nolen, 23, and Charlene Smith, 23, used the belt.
The three women were charged with misdemeanor battery, and they and two other club employees James Daugherty, 31, and Dena Mitchell, 30 were charged with participating in an obscene performance at a live public show, a felony punishable by up to 10 years in prison.
Daugherty had planned to have patrons sign a waiver releasing the club from liability, but investigators said the club has agreed to discontinue all spankings. All five club employees were arraigned Friday, then released after receiving an Aug. 4 court date in Pulaski County District Court.
What makes this story interesting, however, are the things said and not said. “Bruising his backside”, “handcuffed”, “restrained his head”, “misdemeanor battery” — these are all phrases designed to suggest that Keith Lowery was the unwilling victim of his loutish friends and some sadistic strippers. Our mind is supposed to paint a picture of his outrage and humiliation and his complaint to the police, without which (in civilized jurisdictions) there could be no battery charge.
But go read the story again. You’ll not find a word indicating that Keith Lowery was at all unhappy with his buddies’ birthday gift. Despite the reporter’s strong efforts to paint the picture of an unwelcome physical assault, isn’t it curious that there’s not a single actual fact in the story to back up that viewpoint?
I’ll bet you dollars to doughnuts, the “investigators” mentioned in the story were in the club undercover, looking for an excuse to make arrests or otherwise hassle the club owners. Who here thinks (based on the reporting in the story) that Keith Lowery ever said a word of complaint prior to the arrests?
Thanks to Donna for emailing the link.
Here’s a busy and eye-catching piece of artwork for you. It looks like a Turkish (?) scene of judicial punishment, with a man bound for the bastinado, a young lady tied for a caning, and another lass kneeling on the floor en dishabille, clutching at her welts:
From Best BDSM Sites.
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I’ve fulminated before against kinky people who think that their own level of kink is just peachy, but are quick, even eager, to condemn other kinky people who may take the game a little further. Normally I just laugh, but when these kinky prudes graduate from mere condemnation and start trying to marginalize and silence other kinky people by stirring up an attempted de-linking campaign, I tend to get pissed off.
Today I received a form letter that’s evidently going out to multiple kinky bloggers. The form letter came from a known blog-spammer (someone I’ve placed on permanent moderation because he’s repeatedly tried to comment on this blog with trivial lightweight comments that seem designed mostly to promote his own blog link). The new spam says (with my comments in italicized curly brackets):
I am contacting you about a site you are trading links with. {Lie. I’ve never linked to the site in question. This, plus the lack of a personalized salutation, flags the email as a mass mailing campaign.} I have been advised by adult webmasters everywhere NOT to do what I am doing, {advice that should have been taken} but I feel I simply must do this. I have been told this is going to hurt my own website more then anything, {one can only hope} but I still feel I must contact about this matter. I believe others will get hurt and are getting hurt because of a blog you are linking to. {Only I’m not linking to it, see? Bah, I hate peasants with torches and pitchforks, they’ll say anything to get a good lynching going.} Being involved in the BDSM lifestyle I think its important that others are safe over top of the success of my website. {And who appointed our poison pen letter writer the arbiter of what is safe?}
The blog I am referring to is that of {Deleted. If I saw a man trying to rouse a lynch mob against the devil himself, I’d hide Old Scratch in my woodpile. I purely hate mobs}. This blog is purely commercial claiming to be a real life bdsm slave. {And the writer knows this how? The commercial part, well sure, but I run ads myself and don’t hold that against a person. And if she claims to be a real life BDSM slave, it would take a real goon to say “you’re not a real slave”. Who died and made this guy the BDSM pope?} Typically i don’t have a problem with this, {Why, how generous!} however in this case the author of the blog is claiming she is there to give advice to real bdsm lifestylers. The advise she promotes is NOT safe, sane, and consensual {Says who? Oh, yah, that’s right, I forgot this guy was the BDSM pope.} as is typically the case in BDSM lifestyle websites. Rather this author is promoting violence and abuse. {Again, says who? One man’s violence and abuse is another woman’s hottest fantasy. Our correspondent, the censorious prude, doesn’t get a vote, unless he’s personally on one or another end of the whip. In fact, from what I can see, it’s none of his business. I haven’t linked to the blog in question because the lady’s slavery is described as being rather more abject than I find hot. But that’s between her and her master, and none of anybody else’s concern.} Lifestylers are finding her blog, commenting that they can’t wait to learn from her, and all in all they are not the porn seekers she needs to generate money from. {So? They are adults, they can read and think for themselves. There’s really rather a glut of bad BDSM advice on the market. Trouble is, no two people agree on exactly which advice is the bad stuff. What makes this guy’s opinions special?}
This means a lot of people are following her advise and getting involved in abusive relationships and believing this is normal. {Really? Do we know these “lot of people”? Do they have names? Or are we just speculating?} I am asking those sites trading links with this blog to either stop the link trade, or make mention of the fact her blog is strictly fantasy. {Ah, here we are with the attempt to marginalize or silence the kind of kink the letter-writer doesn’t like. And by the way, what’s wrong with fantasy? If I refused to link to blogs containing fantasy, my blogroll would get skinnier in a hurry. Not that there’s any way to tell in particular cases.} I don’t want her site to be unsuccessful, {Um, obviously that’s untrue. Why don’t these prudes ever nut up and admit they are waging a campaign of marginalization and attempted shunning?} but at the same time I don’t want others believing she is a serious lifestyler to get hurt because of it. {I’m so glad we have this Holy Pope of BDSM to define for others what “getting hurt” means, and to try and save them from it whether or not they want to be saved.} I would like to trade links with your site myself, {That was never likely after the comment spamming} however not unless I am assured that this email is not going to affect a future link trade between our sites. {Oh, it doubtless would, but for the fact that usually I don’t “trade” links anyway.} Would you be willing to trade links with me, {Er, that would be a “No”} and more importantly would you either let others no her blog is purely fantasy {Er, no again, and so what if it is?} or stop the trade altogether? {You mean, take down the link I never had?}
Looking forward to a reply!
Happy to oblige. Here’s my reply: Piss off.
This vintage spanking photo caught my eye because the girl with the paddle has a seriously pretty face. From the staging, this doesn’t look like porn to me — more like an old college hijinks sort of photograph — but I don’t of course know anything about the circumstances:
Found, as usual, on Usenet.
Sometimes when I read about the adventures of Library Girl and Matt, I want to get up and sweep my apartment for video bugs. That could be my life! Have they been watching? And Matt — he’s me! Only I would know, I think, if I’d ever spanked a former stewardess, and I haven’t.
There’s nothing like a paddling to chase the Grrrs away. At least that’s Matt’s philosophy.
Mine too. Bethie says “Grrr” a lot, if I let her.
“I don’t need a spanking! I want to be Grr. It’s my right to be Grr! Stop interfering…” None of this helped any. I still got spanked, still got my panties pulled down. And because I was being such a grumpuskitty, I got paddled as well.
Well, of course! Beatings will continue until morale improves. I ought to get that as a tatoo, or something. Maybe a tee-shirt?
“Look at that. My butt is all red now.” I’m holding my skirt up, looking at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
“Where?” Matt walks into the bathroom, trying to look around me. I’m not letting him get anywhere near my bottom again…
“You don’t need to see it – look in the mirror…”
“I’ll look where I want to look…” *sigh* Dragged off to the bed again, to even out the redness. Apparently, he missed a spot.
Two points here. First, an invitation to inspect the “damage” (ha!) is always to be interpreted as a request for more spankings. She’s inviting sympathy (which she should not get) but if she’s playing with her welts or red marks or pink blush or whatever, she’s not ready to stop playing. More spanking is called for.
Second: uneven redness should always be evened up. Asymmetry is a sign of poor craftsmanship. Fortunately, it’s an easy problem to fix.
After lunch, sitting on the sofa. Most of the grumpiness was gone. But…
“I think you need another spanking…”
“No, I don’t… I know I don’t…”
Another spanking, with his hand. A quick one… lots of spanks, fast, and stingy. And then it is over, Matt is hugging me and going out the door, to go back to work.
And I am feeling better.
It’s amazing how much grumpiness can be cured with a few swift whacks. I dunno why it works, but damn! it sure does.
My jaw dropped this morning when I saw my first shoot from Sex And Submission. This brand new site (from the same folks who do the justly famous Hogtied bondage site) is just about the only porn I’ve ever seen to mix spanking, bondage, and hard-core explicit sex into one scene. For years in American porn, sex and bondage together were particularly taboo. Not any more!
Alas, I don’t tend to show the sexually explicit bondage sex stuff on this blog, but even from a demure frontal angle, isn’t this a hot bondage spanking photo? (Yes, her hands are tied behind her back.)
I think I’m really going to enjoy this one.
It seems like we’ve been fighting summer colds and other minor medical complaints for quite awhile, which has kept the spanking to a dull roar. Lack of energy, lack of playfulness, or lack of time, y’all know how it is.
And how it is, of course, is that when the spankings flag, Bethie gets just a wee bit fractious.
Which is why, when she came jumping naked on the bed yesterday for some snuggles after her shower, I had a couple of recent fractiousness episodes fresh in my mind. And then somehow (I forget the details) she said something that caused me to threaten to get up and get my favorite spatula. (It’s big, it’s heavy, it’s made in France.) “No!” she said just a little too sharply. “Not that nasty old thing!”
OK, fine. I’m nothing if not flexible. So I leaped up and got the Cracker Barrel Paddle. Several quick swats with that, and she’s squawking. “No, no, stoppit, stoppit, it’s too much!”
Who’s running this spanking, anyway?
No problem. It’s Brat Loop time!
Dang, that thing is a fine piece of spanking technology. I still haven’t used it with a full arm swing, but the day will come. Yesterday, I swung it hard and fast and repeatedly, but using only elbow and wrist. Bethie stopped squawking and turned her full attention to pounding on the bed with both fists. I had to tease her that it looked like she was trying to flap her wings and take off. Very quickly she was pleading with me to stop, but at least she no longer sounded like she was issuing instructions.
Not quite so quickly, I did stop — it was a pretty short spanking as such things go around here, but an Impression Seemed To Have Been Made. Used lightly, the Brat Loop didn’t make any immediate marks, but there was a substantial heat where it had been landing. After a few minutes, three or four curved puffy welts began to show at the edge of the strike zone.
Bethie spent much of the rest of the afternoon complaining about sore spots, and then pretending to be outraged at my cheerful “Excellent! That was the idea!” style rejoinders. And in between these mock complaints, snuggling up in most friendly fashion.
