Brat abroad

Back! Sunned and rested and ready for action. I hope you’ve all had a nice week :)

In case you were wondering, the hot and sunny place BH and I went to was Kos, a Greek island in the Aegean Sea (and birthplace of Hippocrates, no less). Beautiful and friendly, peaceful and quiet, with temperatures in the thirties all week and nary a cloud in the sky. Just what a pair of rain-weary Brits needed!

So there was sun and sea... was there sex and spanking? Reader, there was, though not all four simultaneously (I’m not a fan of sand in intimate places, for one thing. And we are English!) We did have some splashy horseplay in the sea on one occasion, which provided the pretext for a private spanking back in our hotel room later on. (Well, private-ish: our room was as close to the reception desk as could be, so in all likelihood guests coming and going were treated to the slaps, smacks and squeals emanating from our bedroom). And of course, once I had been shown the consequences of my naughtiness I was given a jolly good seeing-to, my moans of pleasure muffled by the school tie I was gagged with. Outrageous!

It may have been because we were in a carefree state of mind as we were on holiday, I’m not sure, but we were definitely more kinky in our everyday behaviour than usual. The general theme – that just naturally occurred without us having to discuss it – was one of bratty girl and strict guardian, with all the opportunities for yummy submissiveness and ageplay that provided. It was like a lovely unspoken undercurrent to our grown-up holiday fun: misbehave and you will be punished, young lady.

On most of our excursions I was led by the hand, shielded and held and cuddled, a possessive BH arm wrapped round me or a hand placed upon my rear, and I was encouraged on my way (and reminded of my place) every now and again with a smart smack. Ooh! :D

And I may have been spanked OTK in private but the results were invariably shown off in public: after my spanking for splashing, for example, I was made to wear a pair of very short shorts when we went out again, so there was a tell-tale pinkness to my exposed curves and the backs of my thighs that I couldn’t conceal. Very embarrassing! (And very arousing). And the innocent pleasure of lazing beside the hotel pool was preceded one morning by anxious squirming in front of the mirror, checking my bikinied bottom for signs of redness, as I had been given a short, sharp spanking for cheekiness at the breakfast table. What a naughty girl... but then we’ve all been there, right?

Shopping was great fun, of course. And that too was infused with kink: BH held all the money, and so I had to ask him to buy things for me, or ask him to give me spending money. (Oh, I liked that!) I lost count of the number of times I asked “Please, BH, can I have this?”

Holding a cute t-shirt up to show him, I asked just that.

“Don’t you think you have enough t-shirts already?” he said.

I did not. And, summoning all my intellectual and argumentation skills, I pouted “But I wannit!” in my best bratty voice, and frowned at him like a disappointed six-year-old.

BH can be wonderfully dominant when he wants to be, in a cool, calm, almost parental way. Faced with my Veruca Salt impression, he took the t-shirt, hung it back on the rail, took me by the wrist without a word and marched me, discreetly but firmly, out of the shop. Once outside, I was treated to a no-nonsense, stand-up, finger-wagging scolding. He did it in such a way, standing so close and speaking so softly, that electricity crackled between us, yet the people going by in the street paid us no heed. It was so intense and personal. “You’re going the right way for a spanking, Penny. Carry on like that and I’ll turn you over my knee right here and let all these people see what a brat you are. You know I mean it.”

Oh, how I squirmed! Pouting and looking up at BH in timid appeal, rubbing my thighs together as if I was desperate to wee, I felt just exactly twenty-four going on seven, a naughty adult reduced to the status of a child, a feeling I love. My pathetic little whimper at the prospect of a public spanking in a bustling shopping street would have melted a statue’s heart.

“Now, are you going to behave yourself?” he asked, in all seriousness.

“Yes, Daddy,” I squeaked, snuggling into his chest.

BH teased me a little later by carefully examining the range of thick leather belts in another shop. “Mm… this one looks like it would pack a wallop... I wonder if I could give it a test run…”

Whimper!

I didn’t get the belt (or the t-shirt), but I did get a spanking back at the hotel for accumulated bratting. A spanking that, Strict Uncles everywhere will be pleased to hear, involved a good, long dose of the hairbrush midway through. A very sorry Penny with a very sore bottom, I sat down ever so carefully in the restaurant we ate at that evening. Luckily, I was allowed to wear a dress so my disgrace was kept hidden.

Sunbathing, sightseeing, shopping, sex, spanking, (s)alcohol… just a lovely week in a lovely place. I am a big fan of Kos. The only things I didn’t like were the big, scary bugs, meep.

Want to look at some holiday snaps? Course you do! :D

The beautiful blue Aegean Sea (that’s Turkey in the distance, and I think possibly TFD waterskiing):

Some boats in the harbour (there was a big navy boat there all week and a man with a big gun guarding the approach to it. I wanted to go up to him for a picture but I was too chicken):

The ancient Roman Odeon (excellent place for a public spanking):

The beautiful market and Kos town square (another place it would be lovely frightful to be spanked):

A Greek kitty cat (there were loads of these everywhere. Did you know that ‘meow’ in Greek is ‘niaou’?):

The hotel pool as seen from our balcony (there’s more pool than that but you can’t see it):

A house I would like to buy if I had the money:

We could have taken pictures of everything, it was all so pretty.

P.S. A friend tells me it’s been hot and sunny back home all week. What did we come back to? Clouds and rain!