Sunday, May 22, 2016

More questions answered

Hello, readers. I have some more questions I was asked, so I took some time answering them. 


Now that you and Jason have established rituals and routine, how do either of you keep it from getting mundane, having the same impact?


I think to understand why we enjoy routines and such, it helps to maybe understand how Jason and I work. We're both eldest children in our family, and I think that impacts personality, at least to some extent. We're both fairly goal-oriented. We like to work hard, and play hard (heh heh). But when we do things, we both enjoy the comfort of familiarity. For example, when we go on a date, we don't really enjoy “new” places. We have a handful of date night places, and the “variation” of the night is whatever we choose for that night. Maybe tonight will be Mexican, and next date night tapas, but we likely aren't going to be hunting for something new and exciting. We like the same types of vacations. I shop at the same stores. We're not stubbornly married to habit, and try to be accommodating. After all, it can be disruptive to others if we dig our heels in. But, we really enjoy forming habits, and traditions. So the fact that every day before Jason leaves for work I go over my daily list and then over his knee doesn't make it mundane. It makes it familiar, comfortable, and reassuring. When we go out to eat, I don't like perusing the menu for something new. I like knowing exactly what I like to order, and enjoying that.

By knowing what to expect, it frees up mental energy for other things. I know on Monday morning when I get up, I'll write and then hit the track. There's no hemming and hawing. I get up and do it, and I like it. This is how we are. Our lives are structured, and because of that, things are at a fairly even keel. Today is Sunday. On Sunday, we go to church, mostly stay home, I blog, and tonight I'll prepare for the week ahead. It's not boring. It's relaxing. And how does this apply to our lifestyle?

A working D/s relationship takes time. This is the blog post I'm drafting for next week. It takes time to reach the level of communication where you know how to meet each others needs, and by that I mean it can't be done in a weekend, but with much trial and error and experience. But it also takes actual time to implement on a day to day basis. When we get “busy,” and I'm outside running a lot of errands, and he's working at home for extra hours in the evenings during the week – all things that do happen sometimes – our relationship hits a bit of a blip. We need a lot of time to talk. We connect daily so he can keep track of my emotional state, my goals, and how things are coming along. We spend a lot of time being intimate.

In no way at all is this meant to be a blueprint of how others should run their lives. Jason and I are introverted individuals with simple tastes. We dislike socializing and love being home. Others would be bored out of their minds. But, I can testify to the fact that in my observation, it's much harder to maintain a D/s dynamic with a busy lifestyle. It just is. The level of communication, dedication to one another, and time commitment is a necessary component of a working D/s relationship. 

So, how do we keep it from being mundane? At the risk of sounding flippant, I'll say that more sex helps. Really. Even if that means getting up earlier, or going to bed earlier, or whatever. 

Also, I'm always working toward another goal during our morning check-in's and it's nice to tell him I've achieved certain things (by the way a big THANK YOU to those who shared my recent release – it helped me and Maisy hit the Amazon bestseller list!). The change of season and our busy family keep us going. There's always another birthday, or holiday, and we vacation a few times a year. Our kids are growing, and changing. Those things help avoid the mundane. But when things come up, I'm honestly very happy to return to our traditions and rituals.


2)  At different points you talk about being high need and so this works for you.
 a) How/when did you give up the feeling of guilt or concern that asking so much of Jason was a burden or too much work for him given everything else in your lives (if this was ever a concern for you)

Oh yes, for sure. I think it's a fairly common concern of most submissives. We like to have our needs met but we hate feeling “needy.” I don't really struggle much with this anymore, and I'll explain how that shifted. I gave up the guilt and concern over being needy or asking too much of him in a few ways.

  1. I make self care a high priority. I get enough rest, maintain solid friendships, exercise regularly, take down time when I need it. This means that because I have good friends, or I run out a frustrating day on the track, or take a nap on a lazy afternoon when I'm tired, I'm not taking every single bit of what I need to Jason. I do my very best to make self-care a huge priority, because it's my firm belief that a happy, well-rested mama whose needs are met is someone who's better able to take care of the many demands of her family, and the same is true for my relationship with him.
  2. He tells me regularly that I'm not a burden to him. When I feel needy or dependent, I simply tell him, and he does assure me. He's blunt. He's a straight-shooter. He would tell me if he thought I was being immature about something. If he thinks it's sleep I need, he'll send me to bed, etc.
  3. I'm well aware of the fact that he devotes himself to me quite regularly, and I try to give what I can back to him. I give him what he needs, too. I ask him all the time, “Are you getting enough down time? Are you happy with ::fill in the blank::. Is there anything you need from me?” He likes down time. I give that to him. He would rather sleep in on weekends, so I give him that space, and bring him his coffee when he wants me to. I serve him regularly. It gives me great pleasure to do his laundry, bake for him, or, you know, naughty things. I try to anticipate what he needs from me, and I do my best to meet those needs.
    Just this very morning, I was climbing out of bed to get my coffee and laptop, as I do most mornings. He snagged me around the waist and said, “Where do you think you're going? You're cute.” (Ha!). So I came back to bed and snuggled up on him, and he was still half asleep but said, “I needed this.” He wanted me with him. I wanted to go take my writing time, but he wanted me with him, so I was more than happy to put my own needs on hold (not that I didn't enjoy a good snuggle.)
I think a lot of being happily married means dedicating ourselves to meeting the needs of the other, but also being very honest with our own needs. Our D/s lifestyle isn't a one-way street. He meets my needs in so many ways every single day, and I meet his.


    b) Was there ever a point where it felt like too much as being asked of Jason, from his point of view,  and if so when and how did he start to feel the pay off was worth it? 

Yes. I asked him about this. Jason said early on, when he didn't really understand my need to be disciplined to the extent that I want, he made this decision: “I decided it was the most loving thing to give you what you need.” He was still a bit uncomfortable with disciplining me, so decided he would, his words, “Get over my own discomfort and meet your needs first.” Then, he found it came quite naturally to him. Also, he said that “When I take the time to meet your needs, it takes only a short amount of time. Sometimes I'd rather have my down time, but if I put what I want down and focus on your needs first, I'm able to still have what I need, knowing that your needs are met.” This was about six months in that he felt the pay-off was worth it. 


3)  When you first started focusing on your schedule what were you looking for by having him involved in that?  How far do you feel you have come and what are you making happen and with what level of productivity that you weren't seeing prior to having his leadership here?  I guess it's more the compare and contrast from where you started to where you are now?

I was looking for the accountability and focus, that little extra “oomph” I needed. Personally, I feel I've made great progress in just about every area I wanted to. Now that he holds me to a bedtime, I'm far more rested. I get way more accomplished, because I get enough sleep. It's easy not to spend time on the computer, or chatting, or reading, when I know “go past your bedtime and get spanked.” I'm able to give myself that freedom to just climb into bed and rest when I need to. On days when I simply don't want to go to the gym, knowing I'll answer to Jason gets me there. When I want to stress eat a whole bar of chocolate because I'm upset about something, knowing I'll land belly-down over Jason's lap helps me make better choices.

He's reasonable, though, and not a drill sergeant. If I'm just exhausted and want to take a gym day off, he'll let me, but those are exceptions to the rules. I used to have days when I'd have so much to do that I wouldn't even know where to begin. I used to have days when I was stressed, so I'd focus on things I shouldn't have been doing (like wasting time online) instead of things that needed doing (like laundry). Those days are rare now. And I don't always get spanked for it. Recently I spent time chatting for too long with a friend, and didn't get to my slotted writing time. Jason was none too pleased. He knows my writing is important. So, I got grounded for it. What can I say. It works.

  1. It sounds like perhaps you were naturally schedule oriented prior to focusing on it in your dynamic. Did you ever struggle with things seemingly, constantly changing outside your control.

    Yes. I am a very scheduly oriented person. I'm “type A,” I guess you could say. I like order, and structure, and thrive when that's in place. Yes, I do struggle when things are outside of my control, to a certain extent, but I also try not to make things “so” important that I don't keep my priorities in check. For example, Jason wanted me with him instead of writing this morning. Jason is a higher priority than my writing, so I was easily able to let that go. Although I'm a big fan of systems in place to get things done, I'm also a big advocate of not being a slave to routine. How does that work? It means when things don't go the way I plan,  I do my best to let that go. It means that if today my friend needs someone to listen to, instead of me having my walk, or nap, I will put my needs down and be a good friend. It means that if the chicken I planned for dinner isn't thawed, I'm happy to order pizza. I'm a big believer in looking at the positive in any given situation. I feel like being a slave to routine means losing my mind when things don't go my way, and it's better to keep priorities in check. Jason and my kids come above all. But I'm also realistic about what I need myself and making sure those needs are met.
And this is where the communication comes into play. Recently, I had to tell Jason that my gym schedule was not jiving with my work schedule. We talked it out, and reevaluated my plans. He wants to know how I'm spending my time, and then we decide things together. Of course he gets the final say, but he is always looking for my input.


I really hope the answers to these questions helped. I was going to post them early this morning, but, you know...my routine got thrown off! ;)

Sunday, May 15, 2016

Putting the Pieces Together

It sort of begins in a low simmer.

I'm angry with Jason. It's not even his fault, really. I mean, sometimes it is. He's not perfect. But this time, it's a bunch of things, as it often is.

I'm feeling all weird and insecure about a few things. An ongoing issue with one of my children persists, and though things have improved, it still continues to be draining. I'm very tired, and my reserves are down then. I'm supposed to go to Jason the minute I'm feeling this way. And I do. But he's busy, and he brushes me off. I go downstairs, and I'm ready to lose it. Finally, something pushes me over the edge. I rarely really lose my temper anymore. It's not allowed. And I have much better systems in place now for managing my frustrations, but this time, I lose it.

I storm around the house muttering and yelling at the kids. It seems I've spent all day trailing behind everyone and picking up after them, and can't anyone else do anything around here? It's just normal daily stuff that on a good day, I'd just face and deal with, ask my kids to pick up their things or sweep a floor or whatever. But I'm simmering today, feel like I've been repeating myself for days, and it doesn't take much to set me off at a full boil.

Jason comes downstairs, hears me, and gives me “the look.” He holds up a hand. “Five.” It is not a number for how many swats I'm going to get this time. Five means I'm in trouble. And at that point? I don't even care.

I take a damp dishtowel in my hand and whip it across the room. “Yeah. Yeah, I know,” I mutter at him. I know I'll get in trouble, but in my head right now? I'm flipping him off. I'm still sort of blaming him. It was childish, and selfish of me in this instance, I'll readily admit, but hey, I'm aiming for transparency here, folks. I was pissed off, and in my mind, thinking, “You want me to behave? Oh yeah? Then make me, big guy.” 

I don't recommend that. Really, I don't.

“Is that how it's gonna be?” he asks. “Fine, then. Ten.”

Code: “Girl, you're gonna get your ass whipped for this.”

I storm upstairs and pick up my phone and text Maisy, my best friend who knows all about us, because sometimes she can haul me off the edge when I'm losing my mind. I tell her simply what's going on and say something like I'm in huge trouble and I DON'T EVEN CARE.

She responds right away, “Oh, honey, yes you do, you really really do.”

She knows. I've been here before, and it never ends well for me. She reminds me that getting myself under control right now, and going upstairs and lying down and counting to ten, or a thousand, is likely in my best interest, and she says one thing that is perhaps exactly what I need to hear right now. “If you control yourself now, Jason will be proud of you. You know that.”

She's right. I know she's right. I remember the last time I was in this place of “too far gone to care.” It was about six months ago. And after the reckoning with Jason over that issue, I remember telling myself do not ever let yourself get to the “flip him off” stage again. Well, here I am.


The night winds down quickly. Our kids need us, and I am on my own upstairs. I put the little ones to bed and Jason manages everything else. I stay upstairs, and as the house quiets, I hear him come up. I've calmed myself down now. I mentally prepare myself for one of two scenarios:

Option one: he comes upstairs completely spent, too angry to deal with me and sends me to bed without another word. I hate when that happens. I hardly sleep a wink. But I'm prepared to deal. He can't just go on auto-pilot-dom-mode at will. I mean, let's be honest here. Was I in auto-pilot-sub-mode? Ha. Hell, no. I'd taken a good hour to get myself even prepared to begin to submit.

And then there's option two: he would come upstairs and spank me soundly.

Neither option sounds very palatable, but I'm reasonable enough and experienced enough in all of this to know that I really need option two. It's out of my hands now, though.

He comes in the room...strolls in the room, actually...and says in a low voice, almost teasing. “Little girl, what am I going to do with you?” He sort of clucks his tongue, and shakes his head. “What to do with you? Oh, that's right. I know exactly what I'm going to do with you.” I remain quiet. I know he is not joking.

He's taking control.

If it were just the two of us now, very likely he wouldn't be getting ready for bed. If it were just the two of us, I'd have been spanked the minute the first shout came out of my mouth, sooner even. He'd be unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the loops, and likely ordering me to strip and lay over the bed. I've been there. A serious infraction like what I've done would earn a strapping. But he needs to make sure our kids are all asleep, and even then, he rarely uses the belt, as it's quite loud.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed so I can get ready for bed and he pierces me with a look. One index finger points to the bed. “I said you could move?”

I slink back on the bed and remain quiet. He's in control right now, and I best do what he says. I don't say a word.

He gets himself ready for bed, and I lay there silently, waiting for permission to move. After a few minutes, he tells me, “You may go get ready for bed now.” I do, sort of dragging my feet, because I know I'm getting a spanking. I don't cross lines like that and get away with it. But I'll wait for his instructions.

When I'm prepared for bed, I come into the room. It's dark. I shut and lock the door, and walk over to my side of the bed. I'll lay there until he calls me to him. I don't know if he needs time to control his anger, or he wants me to wait. Sometimes he prefers I wait. But as I go to my bed, he stops me.

“Where do you think you're going? Get over here.” He's sitting on the edge of the bed. Dread begins to pool in my stomach. He's sitting on the edge of the bed near the implement drawer. When he sits at the foot of the bed, he takes the rod out of his desk drawer. That thing is hard to take, but nothing compared to some of the wicked implements in the drawer. I know before I drag my feet over to him what will happen. He will not pat his leg and ask me to lie over his lap. No.

As soon as I'm within arm's reach, his hands are around my waist, and I'm hauled over his lap. There is no prelude. In seconds, I'm bared, and I feel the first painful bite of the brush.

“Tell me,” whack! “Why,” whack! “I'm spanking you!”

Every single word punctuated with the whack of that awful brush. I squirm and yelp, and do my best to pant out the replies. “I yelled and swore and lost my temper!”

“That's right,” he says, continuing to rain down swat after wicked swat. I'm twisting on his lap. I can't help it. This type of spanking hurts so badly I can hardly bear it.

“You. Lie. Still.” His leg traps mine and now I'm pinned. The paddling goes on and on. Finally, he stops. But I'm not repentant. I'm still angry. In fact, oddly, the spanking dredged up even more of my anger at him. He stops spanking me, releases my legs, and places the brush down.

“What's gotten into you?” He asks. And he blames some of the things I've been doing. But finally, the anger bubbles up and I'm yelling at him which I know is stupid when I'm still bared and over his lap, and the brush is right next to him, but I can't seem to help myself.

I blurt out something like “No! It's not my fault! Maybe if you spent less time focused on your stupid game and more time focused on me I wouldn't have gotten so far gone!”

It's embarrassing to admit I was that bratty. But I was. I did speak what was on my mind. Usually if I'm angry like that and he's just spanked me, I'm able to keep a lid on my temper and then very quietly and respectfully say something like, “I feel a bit neglected. I wish I'd been able to spend a bit more time with you today. Do you think you could spend some time with me tomorrow?” But nope, not this time.

So, naturally, he picks that brush up again. “Is that right?” he asks. “Is that how this is going to go, little girl?” And he resumes the spanking with renewed vigor, continuing until he breaks through to me. Round two.

I'm sorry now. The brat is gone. It's been thoroughly spanked out of me. He releases me and orders me to bed. I crawl over to my pillow, repentant and humbled, and mumble an apology. He climbs in next to me. But there's so much I need to say. There's so much on my mind and heart. I'm fully chastened and sorrowful. My bottom throbs from the sound paddling he's just given me. But I still need him.

“Come here, now,” he says gruffly, hoisting me up in his arms and I curl up on his chest. And then I tell him.



It all spills out. Every last bit of the worries and fears and frustrations. And the tears fall.

I don't always cry during a spanking. Tears are an emotional reaction, and it takes certain conditions to reach that point. Now that the brat has been spanked out of me, and he's holding me, now that remorse is in full swing, and I'm free to let it all out, it all comes out.

I'm crying freely now, dampening his t-shirt with my tears. I wonder if he's still upset with me, and I ask him.

“No. I'm not angry. I'm giving you space to vent, and I want you to let it out now.” I do. And he apologizes immediately for his part in all this, which was minimal but still there. And I talk and talk and talk. I tell him everything. And this is when a funny thing often happens.

After a hard discipline session with Jason, I'm laid bare. And sometimes, when I'm in that aftershock of a sound spanking, emotions I have that I couldn't name or even recognize before, surface. And now I'm weeping because I miss my dad.

My dad loved the spring. It was one of his favorite times of year. I miss sitting with him in the car, while we drove together. He was always singing, with the windows rolled down, and all was right with the world. He was such a happy guy. He loved to laugh. He was not a perfect father, but he loved me. And, oh I miss him so very much.

Just typing it all out now starts me crying again. It's an almost indescribable connection...Jason disciplining me, and the emotions connected to everything else in me...this is it, the difference right there, between a sexy spanking and discipline. The “realness” is more deeply connected to who I am than merely the sexual side of things. The desire for this relationship runs deep. Yes, it's incredibly erotic. Those of us wired this way find the attraction to a strong, no-nonsense, authoritative man is just about the sexiest thing there is. Nothing turns me on more than being dominated by my man. And yes, the discipline side of things is rare. I've said it many times, but it bears repeating. It's the side of things I like the least but need the most.

The quiet comes then. The quiet after a spanking and a good cry, while he holds me. He's still very much in his stern place, though. “You will go to sleep now.”

I ask if I may read. I'm still a little wired.

But he says no reading allowed tonight. He wants me to sleep, not get caught up in a book, and he orders me to roll over and lay quietly. I obey. I'm quiet now. So quiet. And I lay there in the dark, while he nestles his hand against my hip, and I think, “I should blog about this. How this lifestyle picks up all the pieces and puts them all back together, until it all makes sense again.” How things can be askew, and my feelings and emotions may be confusing and frustrating, but how after a good spanking and a good cry, I feel at peace with the world again. I should blog about this, because this is the reality of a D/s relationship. This is why I blog. Tomorrow, when I wake up, I'll write about what happened and how it made me feel.

And so...I do.


Saturday, May 7, 2016

Sweet Sternness

It's been a little crazy here. 

I've had various jobs over the years, but easing my way into being a work-at-home mom is a bit of a different scenario. I am so thankful that I get to do the work that I love. And several months later, I feel like I have a much better handle on my schedule and priorities, but, like anything, there's an adjustment period. Sometimes I get too thoroughly immersed, and sometimes I don't focus. 

And y'all know what happens when I lose my focus, right? 

But the beauty of this lifestyle is that when I lose my focus, Jason is there to put my focus back where it needs to be. If I sway or falter, there he is again to remind me where my priorities lie, and how important it is to obey him. 

That's what happened this week. 

My daily routine is that I get up in the morning, have my coffee, and focus on my day. I'll spend a brief time checking my messages and popping online, but then shut everything out and go into my writing cave. After that, I typically go for a run or hit the gym, and then I bring Jason his coffee. Although I get up early, lately I've been trying to squeeze in a few more things. Just one more errand. Just one more...whatever. And, ahem...his coffee is being delivered later and later. Not good. 

So yesterday, I come in fresh from my workout, all ready for my shower, and I put his coffee on our nightstand. He's just waking up with those sleepy-sexy eyes. Most mornings, I get a groggy, “Mornin', baby girl.” Yesterday morning, he was sober, and his eyes were stern (usually he needs a little caffeine to get to that stage, but not yesterday). He gave me that look of rebuke, both eyebrows raised, not a trace of a smile on his face. 

“What time is it?” My heart thumped a bit and I sat down next to him, hanging my head a little. I told him the time. 

“You're coming to me later and later,” he said, picking up his coffee. “Haven't I already spanked you for this once before?” I nodded. He did. And I've been just squeaking by, hoping he hadn't really been noticing. 

But he notices everything. 

“Yes, sir. You did. I'm sorry I've been late." Heart pounding a little, I asked the question. "Am I in trouble?” 

He shook his head. “Not today, but don't let it happen again.” I nodded, and got up and ready for my shower. But as I showered, I realized there really were a myriad of things I needed to tell him about. Now, I'm not talking about very serious things, but he does have high expectations for me, and I hadn't met those expectations. And as I stood in the steaming hot water, closing my eyes and preparing for the day, I steeled myself for what I knew would come. I knew when I told him how I'd completely forgotten to do what was on top of my list the night before, and I didn't do what he told me to, that he would spank me for it. I knew he would spank me hard. I'm supposed to tell him these things in our evening check-in's. Although I didn't tell myself, “don't tell him,” I didn't focus on complete honesty, either.

And I knew I needed to.

So I got out of the shower, and went in our room, tossed off my towel and climbed into bed. (He liked this. ;) )

Now, I wasn't trying to distract him, truly. I just suddenly felt the very strong desire to be physically close to him. Ironically...I needed him to help me gather up the strength to face him. Funny, isn't it? But really, it was that I needed him to help me face my consequences. 

I pulled up the covers and snuggled in close. He immediately pulled me into him, chuckling, running one hand down my bare skin. I squeezed my eyes shut and draped my arm around his chest. I came right out with it. 

“I've not done what I was supposed to,” I said quickly. He was quiet, just holding me, as I told him all the little things I hadn't been bringing to him, how I forgot to do what he asked,  hadn't taken care of my own needs (one of my priorities), and neglected a few things that were essential, things that always get me in trouble if I forget. I just sort of told him every little thing that was bothering me. 


Holding me up close, he did not scold or lecture. He simply said, “Honey, what can I do to help you? I want to help you take some of these things off your plate.” 

And we talked about things that were on my mind. What was most important. And how to avoid getting myself in this position again. He spoke gently, listened to all that I had to say, while holding me. Jason has a really good head for managing things. It's what he does for his job, and one thing that makes him such a very good Dominant. And he says the easiest way to handle things when I'm overwhelmed is focus on what's most important then. To focus on the immediate, most pressing priority, and tackle things one at a time. 

After we'd talked it all out, I was still lying beside him. “Are you going to spank me?” That's when he grew stern, nodding his head. 

“I am going to spank you. But I want you to tell me why.” 

“Because I lost my focus.” 

He shook his head. “No. That was not why. Think again.” 

I'd been given specific instructions, and not done them. I felt a bit ashamed, and my voice dropped. “Because I disobeyed you,” I whispered. 

He nodded. “That's exactly right.” 

So he did what he always does. Brought me to the edge of the bed so he can place me over his lap. Fetched out that dreaded rod thing, and had me kneel. I was already crying at this point, not sobbing, but sort of sniffling. I really don't like to be punished.

He put the rod down and held my chin in his hands. He makes me look into those blue-gray eyes, and it always does something to me. It's not just that I love him. It's not just that. It's not just that I know how precious I am to him when he makes me look in his eyes. There's a reason he always makes me kneel and look into his eyes before he punishes me. When he looks into my eyes, he sees everything. He knows if I'm angry, or sad, or hurt. He knows if I'm worried, or fearful, or happy. When he looks into my eyes, he sees all of me. 

It's not possible for us to have drawn this close over the years, through my submitting to him and his leadership and protection over me, having shared so very many ups and downs, and talked, and talked and talked things through, to hide anything from him. It's not that I really want to, but sometimes I find the complete and utter transparency very difficult. 

“I'm here to help you, little one,” he said. “But because I'm here to help you, I will not allow you to disobey me. What are your rules?” 

I always melt a little when he says “little one,” and it seems like an instant reminder of my place as his submissive. Unlike “baby” or “honey,” he never called me “little one” until we began this crazy journey.

So I repeated my rules to him quietly, marveling at his gentle sternness. It's that perfect mixture of sweet and stern that I love so much. In some ways, I think the gentle side encourages me to obey every bit as much as the stern side does. He nodded, going over the basic structure he keeps in place. The overarching rule is do what he says at all times, but there are other rules he likes me to repeat. 

After I went over my rules, he took my hand and stood me up, placing me over his lap. I was still sniffling a little, that impending oh no before a punishment spanking mixed with the emotional twist of having not done what I was supposed to. I much prefer pleasing him. I crossed my legs and closed my eyes tight. 

He brought that rod down hard, while lecturing me the whole time, saying things like, “Today you will do as you're told,” and “you will not forget to do what I ask you,” and “your goals today are to help you stay on track,” and at the very end, “So help me, little girl, if you find yourself over my lap again today, I'll get the hairbrush and you'll know exactly how serious I am about this.” 



I squirmed as he held me down and I sniffled, and promised him I would be a good girl. I think I may have groaned a little out loud at the mention of that vicious brush. The rod is no walk in the park. But boy do I hate that brush, and he knows it. (When he's not here I sometimes glare at it and send I hate you vibes in its direction, which doesn't do a thing, of course, but makes me feel a bit better in the moment.)

Then he was done. “I can't spank you hard today. I won't,” he said. I slid off his lap and onto my knees, (thinking to myself, funny, that seemed pretty hard!) but I didn't say that out loud because the reality is, he could've been a whole lot harder on me than he had been. I threw my arms around him and cried a bit, and it was relief that I felt then. I needed to be put back in my place. 

“You don't like it when I'm stern with you, do you, baby?” he asked, and I answered him honestly. 

“Actually, I very much do like it when you're stern with me,” I confessed. (I do – it's hot, and makes me feel a bit squirmy, yes, but very safe and happy). This made him laugh again, his blue eyes twinkling at me. I explained a bit more. “I just don't like when I let you down.” 

“Baby, so much of the time, you please me so much. You're a good girl, and it's rare I need to punish you. Just occasionally I need to get you back on track again. I know you'll be my good girl today.” 

Stern but sweet. 

Swoon

But he decided at that point it was time to put me in my place just a bit more. The next thing I knew, his hands were fisted in my hair, and I was moving on to another very submissive scenario, and he was quite pleased. He says that having my ass spanked and then getting on my knees is the very best way to remind me of my place. And it's true. One thing led to another, and let's just say Jason was late to work. 

And as he left, he said, “I'm late for work. But it was worth it.”