Wednesday, December 7, 2016

'Tis the Season to Get Spanked

Mid-week, quick check-in here! I'm sure you all can relate to how busy this time of year is. I couldn't seem to make my way over here this past weekend. It was super busy, because Maisy and I launched another book and there's so much work that goes into that, and I have another book coming (last of the year) this Friday. Phew! (P.S. If you are looking to jump into the Boston Doms series, the first book is on sale for only $1 through the end of today!). 

On top of that, I have a commitment here this week and last that has me out of the house for hours at a time, with no help for it. Crazy, crazy. Jason is on top of things, has been helping me out, and I've taken some steps to make everything easier. Thank you, online shopping, for helping me check shopping off my list! My oldest daughter loves gift wrapping (I do not) so she's been happily wrapping away for me and it's starting to look like Santa's workshop here. Time to get baking this weekend! It's been a really nice holiday season thus far. 

It seems like this time of year I always get spanked, and I don't mean in the good way. Jason and I used to always fight before a big holiday, but now we have systems in place to help prevent me from going off the rails. It really helps. But last week, I was seriously on edge and exhausted. I snapped at my family, snapped at Jason, and finally, being the good Daddy that he is, Jason hauled me over his knee and spanked the brat out of me. I needed it. I was practically begging for it (but too far gone to actually be mature enough to ask for it!)

I was a little down on myself about it, because while over his knee, I kicked my feet and screamed, "I hate that stupid thing!" about the rod he uses to spank me. I really really do hate it, and I was in total brat mode, but he didn't yell or get angry. I was not exactly in "Sub accepts spanking mode." I was pretty pissy and irritable. He just very calmly, very deliberately, without getting upset, continued to spank me until the brat in me was completely tamed, and I've been able to keep myself under control ever since. It happens. It just does. I was upset because I hate when I act that way, but when chatting with a D/s friend of mine, she said something like, "You know, it's really great that you feel free to be that way," and she pointed out that it's a testament to the honesty in a dynamic. That made me feel so much better. She's right. Being able to kick my legs and tell him I hate an implement is because I feel free to be honest, and not try to be perfect. I do try, so hard, but he knows I don't always meet the mark. 

This week has been so much better than last week, though it's still busy. I'm checking in with Jason twice a day, getting daily maintenace and even sometimes nightly maintenance, and though it's crazy busy, I haven't been in trouble. It helps knowing he's there to help me to keep the edge off. 

When I was talking to Jason the other day about what was on my wishlist, I asked him to pass the message onto Santa. He said, "Honey, I am Santa." For some reason, that tickled me and I keep giggling about it ever since. Let's hope I can stay on the nice list and avoid being taken across Santa's knee. ;)

Sunday, November 27, 2016

Between the Shadow and the Soul

The stress of this week piled on me, one little thing at a time, drip, drip, drip...

I was a ball of raging hormones, exhaustion, and fatigue. Hadn't gotten to the gym. My to-do list seemed insurmountable. I hadn't taken my supplements, so I hadn't slept well at all.  Finally, one evening – I forget when it even was, but it was before the holiday – I realized I hadn't checked in with Jason all day. I forget what happened, but life got in the way and our morning time together was cut short. I cleared the dinner table, and began to spiral like a madwoman.

We have a rule here that I'm to go to him when I feel overwhelmed, without delay. If he's not home then it needs to be a phone call or text. Well, he was home. My kids were all occupied doing various things, Jason was upstairs, and I was in the kitchen staring at piles of dishes feeling like it was all just a bit too much.

I knew that I'd been taking too much control back, and I needed to give it back to Jason.

I knew I needed a spanking.

But I didn't want one. I picked up my phone and texted Maisy. I told her I hadn't done three or four of the things he expects me to do every single day, for a few days, and I hadn't told him.

She responded right away.

Oh, honey. You need to tell him. You need to tell him NOW.

That's when I started to cry, because I knew she was right. I knew I had to tell him. I knew he'd want to know. I knew also knew that he would spank me, and I needed it, but I didn't want one.

I said something like no, no, nooooooo. I can't!

I stood on the cusp of submission and shook my head no. No. It's too hard. I don't need his help. I don't want to lie over his lap. Spankings hurt. I don't want him to lecture me. I don't want to admit I've screwed up. No, no, no!

I knew I had to. I knew eventually I would. But in that moment? I had a bit of a babygirl fit and refused because submission is so damn hard. It's beautiful, and lovely, when this all works the way it's supposed to. It's freeing, sexy, and fulfilling. But sometimes it takes every bit of strength I have to actually do it. It's not just that getting spanked hurts. It's so much more – admitting that I need help. Admitting that I've somehow failed. Opening my mind and heart just one more time, into that deep, personal, sensitive place that makes me so utterly bare, so utterly vulnerable.

I hid, away from Jason and my kids, crying as quietly to myself as I could, so that no one would hear me, while Maisy, like the amazing friend she is, told me what I needed to hear.

The medicine you need to take is right there. It doesn't taste good, and you don't want to do it, but you have to. And when you do, you'll be all better.

She was right. And then I started feeling a little guilty, because all the other things, while important, pale into comparison to what I was doing at that very moment – holding myself apart from him, when it's his strong desire to comfort me when I'm hurting. He might be disappointed in me that I didn't do something I was supposed to on my to-do list. He might lecture. But holding myself apart from him, hiding my weakness, is not acceptable. It's hard, but it must happen.

Everything else leads to this.

So, sniffling like a little girl, I dragged my feet to the stairs, prepared for the sternness and spanking I was sure to receive. Prepared? Is that the right word? I don't know if I'm really ever quite prepared. But I felt at least that bit of courage I need to bring myself to him. Thankfully, he was alone. I went into our room, locked the door, and faced him.

“Can we talk?”

He put down what he was doing. It was then he saw the tears and how desperate I was, as he gestured for me to come and kneel. I knelt in front of him, put my cheek on his knee, and cried my eyes out. I don't even remember what I said, but it was something like, “I have messed everything up! I haven't done anything on my list. I haven't done my health rules, I keep forgetting my supplements, it's been days and I haven't even told you. I feel yucky and so tired...” and it went on and on while I cried.

He leaned down and, looking at me not sternly, not angrily, but with nothing but tenderness as he wiped away the tears. He said the last thing I expected him to say.

“You are so beautiful, and make me so proud.”

Sniffling, holding onto him for dear life, on my knees submitted to him in a physical reminder to us both that he is in charge and I bring myself to him in surrender, I told him how I felt. “Proud? How can you be proud of me when I've messed things up and gotten so worked up like this?” And in my head, how can you say I'm beautiful when my hair is a wreck, my face an utter mess and tear-stained, my eyes half-dropping from exhaustion? I did not feel beautiful.

“Because look at you. Look at how hard you try.” He pulled me to him fiercely, in a tight embrace that took my breath away as he held me. “You make me so very happy.”

He released me and I stared up at him, the tears abating a bit. “I do, daddy?”

“So happy, baby. Now listen.” He grew a bit more stern now, taking my chin between his thumb and forefinger like he does when I'm kneeling. I stared into his blue eyes and nodded, listening.

“You need a few things. You need a good spanking. You need me to take you to bed. And then you need a good night's sleep.”

How could I argue with that?

“Are you going to punish me, daddy?” I asked. I wanted to know.

He shook his head. “I'm not punishing you, no. I'm going to bring you back to center, where you need to be. It's time for me to take control.”

It was.


I needed that so badly. He knew it and I knew it, and just hearing him say it brought the lens back into focus, cleared the confusion and mayhem in my mind, and helped me just be.

He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, tilting my head back, that gesture that is erotic but also says listen to me. This is important. I am in charge.

“I'm going to be home the next couple of days. When you need me, you will come to me. I'm going to help you with all that needs to be done. But you listen. Tonight, I'm not punishing you. But tomorrow? If any of these things fails to happen that I expect from you? You will find yourself over my knee. Do you understand?”

I needed that. I so needed that.

I nodded. “Yes, daddy. I do understand.” He kissed me then, and sent me to go finish what had to be done for the evening while he got the littlest ones ready for bed. And that night, when the house was quiet, I went to him while he laid in bed waiting for me. He was stern, yet gentle, while he guided me over his lap and called me his little one. He stripped me, and spanked me, not harshly but very firmly, a long, slow spanking that bit by bit stripped away all that troubled me. That led to other utterly delicious things, and then he tucked me in.

Yes. This is why this works. I come to him at my most vulnerable, and he knows what I need. He takes control, and once I bring myself to the point where I freely give him control, it all happens the way it is meant to. It's not easy in the moment, and takes great strength to surrender. But it's worth it, oh so worth it.

Mind, body, and soul.

I've been doing a bit of reading lately, and thinking about the connection between mind, body, and soul. I think that a relationship built on a foundation of dominance and submission has the potential of being fulfilling because of the mind, body, soul connection. If it were just about spanking or sex, then only the body would be engaged. If it were just words or thoughts or theory, it would be just the mind engaging. But there's far more to it, when there's the submission from me and acceptance from him, on every level, my mind open to his, my body in utter surrender to his control, my very soul united with his, as we are one.

"I love you like this because I don't know any other way to love ,  except in this form in which I am not not are you, so close that your hand upon my chest is mine..." ~Pablo Neruda

Sunday, November 20, 2016

Four years later -- a reflection

Hello, and Happy Sunday, dear readers!

Wow, what a whirlwind of a week here. Many thanks to those who popped by to say hello to me on Love OurLurkers day. Also, thanks to those who have decided to join my private group. We had some techie issues with allowing people in the group now, but they've been sorted. If you are interested in joining, you'll have to friend me on Facebook (settings have been adjusted so that you can, sorry about that), and then let me know you'd like to be added. Details in the linked post here.

I like to spend a bit of time reflecting when we come to November. Thanksgiving is right around the corner, then the festivities of the holidays, and a new year looming. I always love a new year. Since I'm such a type-A kinda girl, I love making goals and working my way toward achieving them. Last year I set some pretty lofty ones and gosh, what a year this has been. Jason and I were just talking about this the other day. It's really neat to come to the end of this year so much more confident in my role as a submissive, a writer, a spanko. Though Jason and I are still very discreet, making the connections I have this year has been such a blessing. Thank you to all who made that happen.

But what is fun for me to reflect on this time of year is our DD anniversary. It was four years ago this month when I got up the nerve to ask Jason to spank me and just right after that when he punished me for the first time. Things have progressed so much since then. It was some months in that we really began to “own” this (due, in part, to the fact that we already had a pretty solid dominant/submissive structure in place). It was such a natural fit for us that when we began DD, things ignited so quickly it was only several months later that I called him Daddy and the following year he collared me.

How have things changed since then? Well, the first year there was a great deal of communication, and Jason growing into his role as Dom and me growing into my role as submissive. There were some seriously low lows and at least one time when we thought we were never going to pull this off. We both had to compromise, both had to learn from the other, and both had to embrace the very heart of what a working D/s relationship is all about: mutual self-giving. And over the years, we've grown in that.

In the second year, as we progressed deeper into the power exchange, we started to see what our “flavor” was. We tried some really kinky things...and they did nothing for either of us. We realized we needed way more communication than we had already in place, and Jason initiated our morning check-in's. So, out with the kink, in with the systems in place that make this all work. Jason came up with a way of communicating without our kids or anyone else being too privy to anything, we invested in some very quiet implements (ouch), and I got more involved with getting to know others in the D/s community. We realized that we were a more role-based rather than rules-based couple, and we began to work toward finding out what that meant to us.

(This is from Etsy. Love it.)
By the third year, things were pretty smooth, but I was still getting in trouble with a great deal of regularity. You could say Jason sure as hell had found his footing as a Dom. Hardly a week or two would go by without me getting a really good spanking, sometimes multiple times a week, and a few times more than once a day. I tried. I really did. But I had a lot to learn. We both did. I never felt he was over-the-top when he punished me, and I am so thankful he pushed through and remained consistent and firm, encouraging me to keep on trying to obey what he expected.

By the fourth year, this past year, I'd learned to obey him intuitively. Does that mean every time? Well, no. Someone recently questioned me on this and misunderstood, thinking that when I said intuitively I meant blindly. There is a huge difference in blind obedience and intuitive disobedience. Blind obedience is obedience without thinking. Intuitive obedience means that I obey as a habit. I certainly do think things through, and sometimes even tell him no. (Does that shock you? Well, I know Jason's value system and I also know that sometimes he says things that he doesn't really mean. So once in a while, he says something off the cuff. He did just last week. In the heat of the moment, he said “You tell so-and-so x, y, z.” And I simply said, “No, I'm not going to tell them that,” and explained why. He was not angry. I did not get into trouble. We talked it out.)

Since I'm not allowed self-deprecating thoughts, my self confidence by year four grew tremendously. I needed that. Because I grew up in a house where one parent raised me to feel as if I could do nothing right, it actually did take years of Jason working with me to get me to see my own value. I feel freer, happier than I ever have been. I was able to achieve some seriously amazing goals, and that thrilled me, thanks to Jason holding me accountable. It's been amazing to see how supportive of my writing Jason is (he doesn't read the books, but he does give me lots of ideas, listen to me talk about things, and give me lots of inspiration!),

By year four, I don't get spanked very often for discipline anymore. He certainly does spank me if he thinks I need it, and I really still hate being punished, but still crave it, more so than I ever did. Weeks, even months go by without serious punishment now, due to lots of reasons. First, I just know what he expects of me. Second, we communicate so often and effectively, that we are often able to ward off potential issues that might surface. I'm given daily maintenance still, and whenever he thinks I'm getting close to getting in trouble, that maintenance gets extra firm. That's what happened this week.

I was laying next to Jason and told him about a few things I'd forgotten. I snuggled up on his chest and the conversation went something like this.

“Well, I may have forgotten a few things...” I said, in a little voice.

Jason gave me the pursed-lip, serious look. “Oh?”

“Wellll...I forgot my supplements that help me sleep and that's why I was up at three and couldn't go back to sleep. And...I may have forgotten a few other things.” I fessed up.

“Clearly, you need a good spanking before I go to work.”

I sighed. “I sure hate that rod.” (I do, I do, I really really do.)

He frowned. “I know. I'll use the brush instead.”

I groaned. “Ohhh, no, please don't use the brush!” (Much worse! Burn it!)

“Fair enough. I'll use the eraser.” (Noooo. That's the rubber paddle-like eraser. It buuuurns.)

At this point I simply sighed and pouted a bit. “There is nothing good that is coming out of this conversation.”

“Good behavior. Good behavior is the good coming out of this conversation.”

And sure enough, before he left for work he called me to him, put me over his lap, and gave me a good, thorough spanking that I felt all day. But I wouldn't call it a very serious one. It was more of what I'd call a reminder. Those are the ones I get most when it comes to the discipline side of things. But he does take me across his knees regularly because my needs are high.

Just this morning, I was demonstrating a new pair of panties and the next thing you know, I was belly down on the bed, my little skirt up around my naval, my hips arranged just so, as he painted me red with good, hard smacks with his hand. That was delicious.

Where do we go from here, as the year ahead looms? I'm not really sure, honestly, and I'm okay with that. Just the other day someone commented on how quickly my children were growing. I smiled. They are growing quickly. “The days are long but the years are short,” the saying goes, and it's so apt.

I said to her, “It does go by so quickly. All the more reason to enjoy every single day.” And I feel the same is true for me and Jason. I can hardly believe we've been at this four years.

I do know that our dynamic is here to stay. It's far too fulfilling for both of us for anything to change. But who knows what will come in the years ahead. Maybe things will intensify, maybe they will lighten up, or maybe they'll stay about the same. I try not to look too far ahead. I try my best to focus on today, and today, I am so grateful, for so many things. For the friends I've made, both those I'm still in touch with and those I am not, for the gift they were to me. I am grateful for all that Jason has taught me and his complete dedication to meeting my needs. I am grateful for you, my readers, for your support and encouragement, your questions, and the way you share your own struggles and victories that inspire me. 

So on this, our four-year-anniversary, I am especially thankful to you, Jason, for fulfilling my dreams in so many ways. Thank you for the past four years. Here's to many more to come.