There are many, many different rituals surrounding Easter--which makes sense, since the end of winter is a good reason to celebrate. The snow is melting, green things are sprouting, everything smells so pretty...well, not for those first few days in the city, but anyway.
One thing I found common among the traditions of many different countries is painting eggs. I love that tradition. I'm no good at it myself, but it's fun to sit down with the kids and make pretty designs on those hard little shells. And some of the artwork you find on Easter eggs is just...Wow!
Now picture this. On Sunday start painting those little eggs with your daughters while your son spends the days braiding together pussywillow twigs and attaching colored ribbons to the end. When you're done with the eggs you set them aside for the next day, along with some plum brandy and candy, and get yourself some sleep.
Easter Monday is a big day.
The sun peeks through the curtains and you can smell coffee brewing. Your man brought you breakfast in bed. What a wonderful morning.
But before you can roll over to thank him he flips the blankets off you and whips the top of your thighs!
So what do you do?
Well, naturally, you reach into your basket of eggs to give him one and then kiss him for being such a sweetheart.
Did you just go 'huh?'
I'm not making it up and I fully intend to visit a small town in the Czech Republic one day to see how this goes down. And I have a feeling I'll have to bring along a pad and paper because this festival is just full of potential plot bunnies.
Because not only your honey gets to spank you, and you have every right to be testy with any man that neglects you. Depending on the village revenge will take place in the evening, when you can dump cold water on any man who did you wrong. So the men really, really want to keep you happy...
And yes, I can see how some might find this offensive, but if you enjoy BDSM Romance--I love it--I'm sure you can see the potential too. No doubt at least one lady wouldn't want to stop at spanking!
Bianca Sommerland was born and raised in Montreal, Quebec. When not reading neurotically or writing as though the fate of the world rests on her keyboard, she is either watching hockey or teaching her daughters the beauty of a classic, steel pony while reminiscing about her days in Auto Body Mechanics.
Her time is balanced with utmost care between normal family life, and the internal paranormal realm where her characters reside. For the most part, she succeeds. You can find her at http://imnoangelauthorsblog.wordpress.com/