While working through old stuff some days ago, Ludwig and I came across an old curtain stick (not a curtain rod, but a kind of stick used to open and close the curtain). Of course, Ludwig had the same thought that probably most of our readers would have. He called me with a glee in his eyes and said: "Bend over. I have to try this."
Being the obedient and submissive wife that I am, I of course did as he told me. Ludwig took aim, swung back his arm, I heard a swoosh, a crack – and jumped up with a surprised "Ouch!" because the stick had left an unexpectedly sharp pain on my right buttock. "Are you nuts?", I snapped (okay, maybe I am not so submissive after all), "that thing stings like hell, even over my trousers – plus, you only hit my right buttock!" For some reason Ludwig didn't seem to have much pity for me. Quite the contrary, he somehow looked rather content.
"Now I want to try that, too, just so that you know how much this thing hurts," I said, and took the stick out of Ludwig's hands. "Okay," he sighed, and bent over. I took aim, trying to cover both buttocks with the plastic stick and not to hurt Ludwig with the broader handle. I swung back and hit Ludwig's backside a little bit too high for my taste. It didn't seem to bother him, though. As a matter of fact he didn't seem to be impressed by the stroke at all.
"Damn, I am out of practice! My aim was to high, I have to try that again," I exclaimed. "Hey, why do I get more strokes?" Ludwig protested. But he let me try again, two times. My aim got better, but for some reason Ludwig seemed to be much less impressed by the tool than I had been. "It's not that bad," he told me. Maybe I was going too soft? Slightly irritated and a bit disappointed, I gave up. My aim wasn't good enough for harder strokes, and maybe Ludwig simply was tougher than me.
A while later I was in the bedroom, took down my pants and looked into the mirror. And what did I see? I called Ludwig and showed him the marks, or, rather, the single mark on my right buttock. It looked like a mark from a broader kind of cane. "Oh, nice," Ludwig exclaimed. "But why is it only on my right buttock?" I asked. Then it came to me.
"You hit me with the handle, didnt't you?" I asked Ludwig. "Yes, of course!" he said. "But the handle is too broad and too heavy. I did my best NOT to hit you with it," I protested. "I thought it was a bit like the tip of a riding crop," Ludwig explained, "so I had to try it out." "Try it out on YOUR bottom the next time!" I grumbled. But I had to admit that the mark left by the handle was beautiful. And at least now the riddle was solved where the sharp pain on my right buttock came from and why Ludwig had been so unimpressed by the curtain stick.
Unfortunately, I didn't have the time to take a picture that day. But when I looked into the mirror the next morning, I realised that the mark still looked almost like it had the evening before. It hadn't become much paler, and the skin hadn't turned blue, either. So I used the opportunity to make a picture for you.
Despite the nice mark, the curtain stick won't stay with us. It simply isn't really suitable as a spanking implement. But at least we now have a picture to commemorate it. And with that we wish all of you, who celebrate it, a Happy Easter. And a happy rabbit feast to all of you from your friendly atheists.