Sunday, June 3, 2018

Spanked and punished and...yeah, I still need this.

It’s inevitable that I get punished after traveling alone. I’m not sure why. Maybe somehow Jason and I need that reconnection and it’s a sort of subconscious action on my part or his or both of ours. Maybe I’ve just forgotten my place, or he needs to remind me of his.

Last week a blog reader was commenting on the different flavor of my blog, that it’s different from when we first began. I know that our dynamic has changed, and so has my blogging. I think it surprised me was the expectation that it stay static. I explained that I don’t talk much about punishment because I don’t get punished very often. I said, “we’ve been doing this 24/7 for over five and a half years. If I were being punished with regularity at this stage, I think something would be wrong.” And I believe that. If my point in this is to learn to obey him and his is to teach me to obey, regular punishment would mean that something wasn’t working. That isn’t the way it is at first, though. At first, with a steady dynamic in which both partners have mutual goals they’re striving toward, it’s actually common for punishment to be frequent, especially if roles are new. But with a steady focus on roles and dedication to the lifestyle, it should be the case that punishment becomes rarer.

That’s not the only reason I don’t blog much about punishment anymore, though. Yes, it’s infrequent. But it’s also not the point of my submission or his dominance. If it were, I’d be a masochist and he’d be a sadist. I respect those kinks and I have friends that identify that way. But I’m not one of them. I’m not here for the pain. I’m here for the exchange of power.

So recently, after traveling, when I screwed up and broke a pretty blatant rule, and Jason just said matter-of-factly and fairly sternly, “you’ll get a spanking for that tonight,” I got very quiet and contemplative. It feels a little rusty being punished. Spanking is common. In fact, I’m pretty addicted. I get crazy and antsy when it’s been too long without a spanking, and by too long, I mean a day or two. Just last night we didn’t have our full check-in (both of our faults) and by bedtime I was feeling a little grumpy and out of sorts.

But knowing I’m in real trouble still makes me a little queasy inside. I feel a little off waiting for it, though I’ve learned by now not to dwell. I focus instead on being repentant and asking myself why I want this. What I need to learn from this. I focus on what I need to do right now, today, and don’t dwell on the impending punishment. There’s a lot of self-talk that happens through this for me.

I got riddled with nerves when the time came, and when he went into total disciplinarian mode I felt very quiet.

“Where’d you put the brush?” he asked, in that no-nonsense tone. I had to think a moment and then whispered its whereabouts because I freaking hate the brush and I was nervous as hell. He fetched it, sat on the edge of the bed, and called me over. All stern daddy. Took my chin in hand and looked me in the eye and made me tell him why I was in trouble. I want to hide when he does that. It’s hard to look him in his eyes. Then he told me to get over his knee. I did, knowing this was not going to be fun.

Someone asked me the other day “how many” when I get in trouble. I shrugged. I’m certainly not counting when I’m in trouble. It’s all I can do not to fly out of my skin. He’s made me count before, though, so I know real punishment is somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty or a hundred strokes. Some readers will think that’s insane, some will think it fairly light. I know it’s what I need. Any lighter than that feels like maintenance. But I’m stubborn and really not submissive, so I need to be stripped down to submission, and a serious implement while he lectures the hell out of me gets the job done. Others will think I’m a wimp. They can think that. I am!

So over the knee I went, out came the brush, he bared me and spanked me soundly. I didn’t like it. I sniffled and grabbed the bedspread and asked him to stop, but I know how this goes. I don’t have to hold back in asking him to stop because 1) I really can’t help it and 2) he won’t stop until he knows I’ve had enough.

It wasn’t a major infraction, like endangering my safety or being blatantly disrespectful. Both would earn me a severe spanking. But it was hard enough. He lectured me good and long while he spanked me good and hard. I need to hear those things to remind me to submit.

“Just because you’re traveling and running things doesn’t mean you get away with breaking my rules,” he said while he whacked me with that brush in firm, measured strokes. Talk about humbling. Yikes. God, I hate that thing, the burn and sting that’s deep and lasting. “I’ll remind you how to behave, and you’re not going to do this again.”

Of course in an effort of self-preservation I avowed my promise to never ever ever do anything even mildly wrong ever ever again. You know.

The spanking lasted long after I wanted it to stop, and then finally I blurted out, “I’m sorry!” I’ve tried to say that earlier on in the spanking but it doesn’t work. He knows when I’m sorry. I know when I am. There’s not much use saying it until it’s time. He dropped the brush and gave me a few hand smacks for good measure, which hurt like hell after a brush spanking. Or after any spanking, for that matter.

He held me after that. I needed him to. We needed the reconnection, the reminder of our roles. I hate being punished and he hates punishing me, but it’s such an essential part of our dynamic. Rarely visited but ever-present.

He told me he loved me and that I was his good girl and he knew I’d behave now. He said I made him proud, and that these little things that come up need to be dealt with but that’s why he’s here. I sniffled and nodded and just let him take care of me. I need this. He needs this.


And after my emotions settled, we moved on to much, much nicer things, solidifying our connection.

I was subdued and quiet the rest of the night, and the next day, too. Though I’m thankful punishment is rare, I’m also thankful it’s part of our dynamic. I’ve said it before but it’s worth repeating:


the discipline aspect is the part of this I like the least but need the most.

I love this picture from Patty's gallery. It sums up what I feel so hard during punishment times like these. Humble. Grateful. And so ready to climb right back into Jason's arms for the reassurance I need. 

From "Patty's Gallery" (click for link)



Monday, May 21, 2018

Home with Daddy

Hey there, blog readers. I'm here to tell you...I survived! Last week I traveled away from Jason and I was pretty nervous doing it. It's hard to admit that being a 24/7 submissive has its downside, but I suppose it's a fair trade. If I reap the benefits of being Jason's submissive, than it only stands to reason that I will struggle with things from time to time. I think for me, the most important thing is to recognize when I may struggle, and to put accommodations in place to succeed. 

So last week, I was on my way to a conference and I knew I'd be apart from Jason for nearly five days. He refused to put me in a total place of submission before I left. I didn't like that he wouldn't. I wanted that before I left. Still, I knew in my heart he was right, and when I shared this with some like-minded friends while I was away, they understood that. I told them he'd decided this and that I didn't like it, but it was what I needed. 

"What he did was Dom you," one friend said. 

"He didn't let you top from the bottom," said another. And though I think deep down inside I knew the truth in that, I still needed to hear that. 

Sometimes domming me means not giving me what I want. He told me he needed me to be able to handle myself when I was away, and that he'd leave me in some of my dominant head space. So although we connected -- he spanked me, and we spent a good deal of time together before I left -- he kept a very close eye on where I was mentally and didn't totally strip me down. 

What does it mean to be totally stripped down? It's my happy place of total surrender. I can't get there on my own. He has to bring me there. I can submit, and I can go through the motions, but I can't be in my total place of submission, at his feet and malleable, with my walls totally down, vulnerable and waiting for him to lead me, without him here to catch me. 

I've been there. It's not good. 


So though he brought me to submission before I left, I wasn't totally stripped. Being totally stripped is intense and often involves a whole bunch of different submission exercises, mental, physical, and sexual. When I'm in a total submissive headspace, I can't even think of defying him. To please him is my primary concern. I'm putty in his hands. 


It's a lovely, very dangerous place to be. Why? Because it leads me to a place of dependency that's only really safe if he's with me, and that's really only safe when I'm with someone I completely trust. 

I trust Jason with everything. I know in my heart I would lay down my life for him, and that he has my very best needs in mind. But he's my husband and my long-term dom. That level of trust doesn't happen right away, and I do think it's safest for that level of trust to be earned.

So when I left, I had my bracelet and collar and he'd taken very good care of me. The travel was long and fairly arduous, and I arrived at my destination late, late at night. I checked in with him throughout the day, and finally told him I'd arrived and went to bed. 

We had a verbal check-in over the phone the next morning, and he went over my rules. I went over my plan for the day, and I was feeling really pretty good about things. And so the week went on. We Facetimed and chatted and texted, but only a few times a day. Although it was necessary for me to have regular contact with him, it was also necessary for me to handle things on my own. To make decisions. To socialize. To behave the way he would want me to. 

By around Thursday, I had a sort of ache inside that I know very well. It's that longing to be submitted to him that I crave when we've been apart. I'm so accustomed to the intimacy of being submitted to him, that even a few days without it leaves me wanting. I was with likeminded friends, and sort of muttered to one of them, "I really, really need a good session." She nodded in sympathy, and reminded me that I'd be in just over a day. I had to force myself not to think of what I needed, and ignore the craving inside to be submitted to him. To kneel, or lay over his lap. I did call him, though, because I needed to say Daddy. 

Friday morning, I knew I was going home. I'll admit I was nervous. I'd never flown alone before, and I had a nine hour journey with a connection flight and a layover in an airport I've never been to. I got my things and did what I was supposed to. Fortunately I fly often enough that it was pretty routine. And it wasn't until I was on my way to the gate that I was overcome with serious anxiety. I took deep breaths and swallowed hard and made myself stay focused. I texted Jason, who reminded me he was waiting for me and said things like, you can do this. You're going to be fine. 

He was right. I was. 

I made it home around two in the morning. Jason was home with our kids so I got a ride home, and when I pulled up, he was there waiting for me. He came to get my bags, which made me positively swoon, and kissed me on the front lawn. I was home. With him. My heart was so full. 

He placed all my things down, took me by the hand, and led me straight upstairs. 

He climbed up onto the bed and said, "I have something for you." He patted his chest, and I grinned, and hopped on up and snuggled in. 

"This is your place," he said. It is. I love resting my cheek on his chest and snuggling in, being held so close like that. I told him everything, gabbed on and on about my friends and my trip and what I did. What was funny and poignant, and what interesting things had happened. He listened and laughed, and held me. But then I had to ask him. 

"Will you please spank me? Just a little?" I needed to feel my Daddy again. 

He grinned and patted the bed for me to assume the position. I did, and he spanked me, and it was like drinking water in a desert. So fulfilling. But what I really wanted was to go over his knee. To feel his knee beneath my belly while I surrender to him brings me to that place I crave. Over his knee I went, and he gave me the most delicious session with his hand, exactly what I needed. Then we moved on to bigger and better things. 

Deep sigh. I was so content to connect with him again. So content to be home. Proud of myself I'd survived the travel and separation without losing my mind. I have to say that he did the right thing not stripping me down. 

I don't travel again without him until the fall, and then it'll only be for a shorter distance and for four days. But now we know what works, and as the saying goes, absence makes the heart grow fonder. 😌




Monday, May 14, 2018

Traveling without him

Today, I get on a plane and travel about 3,000 miles away from Jason. I’ll be gone for most of the week, and though I’m so looking forward to the trip, I started feeling the beginning of an anxiety attack yesterday. I told Jason, who pulled me into him and talked me down.

I travel without him a few times a year. We have our reasons, and though I know the obvious answer might be “well, don’t travel without him, then,” sometimes it becomes inevitable that we’re separated, so I’d honestly far rather learn to deal with it instead of avoiding it. That's Jason's preference, too. The reality is, with this lifestyle, you draw really close to your significant other. He dislikes being apart from me as much as I dislike being apart from him.





So I’ll be a big girl about it. I’ll do my best to enjoy my trip. But because I know going into this that my anxiety can sometimes get high without him here, we have a few things we do before I leave.

First, Jason replaced my bracelet. I lost mine a few weeks ago, and I’ve felt so off without it. I still have my collar, and for that I’m grateful, but this bracelet was my first “collar” of sorts. He has a bead on it that says “Daddy’s little girl,” and he snaps it on my bracelet as part of our morning check-in ritual. (I’ve been asked about morning check-in recently and forgot to reply. Morning check-in is when I kneel in front of Jason, he goes over my rules and my daily to-do list, then puts my bracelet on and almost always spanks me for maintenance to help me get into a submissive mindset).

Yesterday, he gave me his Mother’s Day gift to me:



I got a little weepy. I missed having this, and he chose the prettiest beads. It felt so nice to have it against my wrist again. He even found the "Daddy's little girl" one again. 

We’re going to Facetime, and he’s going to call me to do a modified version of a check-in. It’s honestly not the social aspect of things that I find difficult. When I get overwhelmed with crowds and the like, I just step away and regroup, even if I need to skip out on something and spend some time alone for a while. But the decisions overwhelm me. At my last conference a few weeks ago, I actually got myself way worked up trying to decide what to wear. It might seem silly. But I get “decisioned out.” Part of the joy of being a full-time submissive is that Jason takes away a lot of my stress by deciding for me.

And isn’t that really the best part of all this? The payoff? Having someone who can listen, and guide, and remove the stress of the world? Submitting to him frees my mind and heart. He helps me slay the dragons that threaten to tear me down, the inner censors that tear me apart. He helps me take care of myself and my family, stay on task with my goals, and calm my mind that spins and spins like a merry-go-round.

So I brought my brush to him, and asked him to spank me. I hate this thing. It’s awfullll. Seriously. Every time I mention the brush, someone asks me where they can get one just like it, and I feel the need to tell you, this is a severe implement. It’s varnished, thick, and small, so the impact is intense. (But you can get it here if  you must: LINK). Don't say I didn't warn you. 



I only ever get it for very serious punishment. He’ll even threaten me with it. “If you ever do that again, you’ll get the brush.” And I shudder, because I know being punished with it is awful. I’m ready to fly out of my skin after the first smack, and it’s never just one smack.

But the effect is lasting. It stings for days. And…well, that’s what I need right now.

Last night, he took it out, pulled me up to him and brushed my hair with it. We talked about my travel, and put together a plan to stay connected. And he spanked me with the brush. It was a moderate spanking, and today he says will be a lot more serious. I’m not looking forward to it at all, but I know this is something I need. 

He said, "I'm not going to totally strip you down, though." I asked him what he meant. He said, "I can't bring you into total submission before you leave, because you need to have some of that independence to get you through." So I'm not entirely sure what this morning will bring. I trust him, though, and know that he'll for sure bring me back into total submission when I return. 

What I really need is just a reminder that he’s still my Daddy, and I’m still his Babygirl. How will things go? I'll fill you in when I get back. :)