by Ronnie Soul
My name's Ronnie and I'm a spanko, mother and businesswoman. I'm happily married to my wonderful husband Peter who gives me spankings when I'm bad - and also when I'm good! I'm happy to share with you some deliciously kinky real life accounts of my adventures in domestic discipline. So welcome to my diary ... read and enjoy!
with trepidation we're heading for warmer climes
April 5th
We were going to be late, I was certain of it. Google didn't say anything about roadworks on the M1, but there are always road works on the M1, so why didn't we just set out half an hour earlier?
"Don't worry," said Peter, "we'll be fine, no problem."
We were on our way to Luton airport to catch an Easyjet flight to Majorca. Peter's mom was in the back of the car. His two brothers were meeting us at the airport, one with wife and two kids and the other with daughter only as he'd recently become single again after an acrimonious divorce. It was a family holiday, the first one we'd done in years; we had a six bedroom villa booked through one of the holiday villa specialists.
I was right... we were late when we pulled into the car park at Luton airport. It was windy and pouring with rain too and we had to wait for a courtesy bus. Neither I nor Peter's mom had a coat with us. He should have dropped us at the terminal, it was ridiculous. At least he parked close to one of the bus stops which provided shelter from the rain but not the wind and cold. Good job a bus came soon because I was close to giving him a piece of my mind.
When we got into the terminal building the others were waiting. Peter said he thought a couple of them would have stood in the queue so that we could have sneaked in, but nobody seemed stressed and things were moving quite quickly. Once we were all chatting I forgot about being late. It was clear we weren't going to have a problem and as Peter said, the later you get there the less time you've got to waste drinking airport coffee or, worse still, making silly purchases in the 'rip-off' stores as he called them. My husband can be infuriating at times.
It was nice being part of a family group. Last time we'd managed it had been some years ago when we hired a large house in Bournemouth and been lucky enough to get good weather. Peter has a big family, and if they all got together I think they'd need to hire a small hotel - but they're sprawled far and wide, some outside of the UK, so big get-togethers only happen at weddings and funerals, which is the way it goes for many families I suppose.
Peter's youngest brother has a medical condition with a poor prognosis. He doesn't make anything of it, which is fantastic, but there is pressure on his wife, with whom I get on well but Peter's mom does not. Peter's other brother likes the ladies, excluding his recent ex-wife needless to say, and he's usually good fun. The kids are all great - polite, lively and bright. It was a pity we didn't have our son along too, but he'd had arrangements in hand for ages with some university mates and we couldn't get dates to fit.
I sat between my niece and Peter's mom on the plane. My niece could talk the hind legs off a donkey and she's funny. Peter's mom kept leaning over me because she couldn't hear properly from one ear. I offered to swap seats but she didn't want to. I was exhausted by the time we landed at Palma!
We arrived at our villa, a couple of miles inland from Puerto Pollensa, in a convoy of three small hire cars: with two men and one lady driver. The convoy had been slowed by the lady driver. Peter had grumbled a couple of times about continually having to slow down, and eventually he'd dropped back behind his sister-in-law with his ladies man brother in front. That way they might keep her moving at a fair pace and she couldn't possibly get lost, just follow the car in front with Peter nudging from behind. It didn't work. I sympathised with her... I wouldn't drive abroad and it was her first time so I could understand she was a bit nervous.
When we found the villa and had to shuffle three cars onto the drive it would have been hilarious if we'd been flies on the wall watching another family. Ladies man was straight in but sister-in-law dithered at the gate to-ing and fro-ing. Her husband wasn't on the insurance and wasn't allowed to drive anyway. Eventually she got in but left no room for Peter, who kept gesticulating for her to go further and park tighter, but she wouldn't. She was flustered and she got out and waved her keys to Peter who left our car out on the lane and repositioned her car before driving ours in. The men thought it was funny; she was embarrassed. I thought it wasn't fair and was on her side. I told Peter he was a pig and his brother too.
The villa was as described. Almost. The grounds were big enough to have a ball game; the pool was around 12 meters, which was nice; space and decor inside was wonderful - modern Spanish but with an old feel, brick and tile and solid wooden furniture. The dining room which overlooked the gardens had a table which could seat fourteen if you included the end seats. It was a pity it was unlikely to get used apart from at breakfast times during our stay. The men sorted out the hot water system, aircon, gas (butane), lights and general settings, all as per an instruction sheet which was part of our welcome pack.
Claiming the bedrooms was next. There were five inside the villa and one added as an annexe attached to the lounge by a roofed walkway. Nobody seemed to want it so I claimed it. I had my reasons. It had no aircon but I didn't think that would be a big problem at this time of year.
Everyone was happy until Peter started checking the finer points. The swimming pool was freezing, he said, yet it was advertised as being solar heated, and the barbecue which was a brick-built rustic style and lovely to look at, had no grill trays and no utensils. It would have been impossible to cook on it. Peter was on the phone to our representative. He told her he wanted her out straight away (she was scheduled to pop in on our first day anyway) to sort things out.
She came an hour later and didn't know why the pool wasn't warmer, and she couldn't find the bits that were missing from the barbecue. One of the kids was already swimming in the pool, which made it seem like Peter was moaning about nothing, although she didn't say that. The barbecue was a different matter though. Peter said it was an absolute expectation that we would be eating al fresco. Why hire a nice villa with such impressive facilities if you couldn't dine out under the sun and stars? He told her he wanted it fixed. I don't think she liked Peter. I was embarrassed, not about what he said, because it was true, but about the way he said it and I told him so.
Later that afternoon a pool man came and did something to the timer settings and said the pool would have some warmth from next day onwards. In the early evening, before we went out, someone turned up with a brand new mobile barbecue on wheels. It looked like they'd been and bought it from a supermarket. They had two large bags of charcoal too. Peter thanked them in Spanish and beamed as the rest of us had to admit his stern approach with the rep had got things done.
I said I hoped none of us had an accident or anything where we might need to call on our rep for a bit of assistance, I was sure she'd do her job professionally but I doubted we'd get much goodwill from her after my husband's performance. He told me he'd done no more than was necessary ... it was our holiday ticking away and he wanted things right. As it happened, we never used the barbecue at all! We ate out every evening and lunchtimes were on the beach or sightseeing. Still, the incident gave me cause to add to the little criticisms I'd been making on and off to my husband since very early that morning when we left home late.
With some heated words yet to come, I got myself spanked on our very first day, or perhaps I should say second day as it was after midnight.
We shouldn't have had heated words at all when we were on holiday, I mean we'd got over the stress parts the travelling and getting settled, but these things happen. We took a taxi from our villa into Puerto Pollensa so that the boys could have a drink and not worry about driving. The taxi firm sent a 14-seater which was better than two separate cars, although on the return it was two cars because of the spat which developed, which I'm going to tell you about.
After being dropped near the main square and walking around the port town to see what was where and to weigh up eating options, we settled on a restaurant back on the main square which offered something for everyone including the kids. From looking at the menu it seemed okay food-wise, nothing more, but the staff were friendly. They kept asking whether they should put some tables together for us. They even said we could have a couple of jugs of sangria on the house if we ate there. They seemed to be doing well enough customer-wise and people looked happy so we took up their offer. Peter asked them for some Fanta for the kids too, in Spanish of course, he was in his element; but the kids didn't drink them, they preferred the sangria.
We had starters, and the kids had pizza slices... they were all fine. Several bottles of wine adorned the table. The main courses were a problem though. Three of us had ordered steak and they weren't very good. Peter called someone over and told them he wanted the steaks replaced. He demonstrated what the problem was by trying to cut one in front of the waiter's eyes... it wasn't possible. They didn't argue, they replaced them and at the end of the evening didn't charge them on the bill although we didn't know that at the time. I suppose given our tiredness, as we'd all been up early that morning, and the travel which always makes for a long day, the drink started loosening people up more than normal and Peter's mom got into an argument with her daughter-in-law about who was in charge of our group.
God knows how they got round to that but their voices became raised and it was impossible to ignore them. I told them no one was in charge and it was a silly subject. His mom told me to shut up, she was talking to her daughter-in-law not me. I listened for a while and found out it had started off about how we were going to split the bill at the end of the evening and they each had different views... but it had developed further from that and Peter's mom was accusing her daughter-in-law of being domineering and always thinking of herself and goodness knows what.
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