I'm busy, OK...

There are times when you REALLY don't want to be disturbed, aren't there? But as Hermoine's excellent post spells out a spanking can be interrupted for any number of reasons.

She lists some, like barking dogs, wailing smoke alarms and howling orgasms along with the call that tells you that you're a lottery winner. Sadly I haven't had a lottery calling me as a spankus interruptus, but her observation did remind me of one experience that takes some beating (or ruins one anyway.

A few years ago we had a pony that was kept in a rented field over the hedge at the bottom of our garden.

She was in-foal and we were quite excited about it So was our elderly neighbour - his windows also looked out over the pony paddock.

One spring morning we got the kids off to school and then headed back to bed, or at least to the bedroom. Drawing the curtains, Significant Other reminded me that it was time to discuss my recent behaviour and get my attitude into a better state of adjustment.

It had, of course, been very much out of adjustment. Fast-forward through a serious-sounding lecture and a brisk OTK spanking and I'm bent over the end of the bed on a pile of pillows.

I am four or five strokes into two dozen with SO's well-worn leather belt when the front door bell rings. We ignore it, though the dog goes crazy. SO presses on, I squirm and wriggle - but the moment's really been lost.

Then somebody starts hammering on the back door, driving the dog to new levels of fury. We freeze for a moment, but SO is insistent that we ignore whoever it is and that I get my due.

We put things on hold for a minute or two again, but after one more hearty whack we hear a voice below our bedroom window. It is calling my name in a plaintive kind of way. 

SO goes to the back door. I don't know what's said, but the news is then shouted to me up the stairs that the foal is being born.

A couple of minutes later me, SO and our neighbour are standing in the field admiring the new-born, who is trying to find its feet.

I'm in PJs and a dressing and have a butt that's deliciously hot, half-thrashed and very much in need of more. What, I wonder, did our neighbour hear of what had been going on... 

Then he says: "A moving experience, isn't it?" I can feel myself go into full beacon-blush, face pinking that bottom. Exactly which experience is he talking about?

That was five or six years ago. Mother and foal did well, we tried less noisy CP implements for a time - and I was quite pleased when the neighbour moved last summer.