Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Saving Me From Myself

For every woman out there that knows what I mean, who wants to say it but doesn't know how, who struggles with what I struggle with. This is for you. 

To my husband...

I don't mean to hurt you. 

I never do. 

I love you. 

There is no one in all the world I'd rather spend my life with. 

I try hard to be honest with you. I try hard to never manipulate, or lie, or hurt you. I appreciate all you do for me, more than I can ever say. I want to please you. I want to make you happy. I want to do right by you, always.

I promise I will always do my best to be your responsible girl. I will love our children the best I can. I will be mature and responsible and I will do my very best to do what I need to. I will work hard on goals of my own, and I will get up every day with the will to do what is right, what is good. I will work hard, and I will treat others with the kindness and dignity they deserve. I will balance my time well, and treat my body right, and take care of our family with patience and love.

I will be all the woman you ever need. I will be your lover. I will please you in any way possible. Your wish is my joy to fulfill. I will be your friend, who watches geeky sci-fi, or eats wings and drinks beer while we talk about history or politics or the goofy things people do. I will be your confidante when things are troubling you. I will be your soft place and your strength. I will tell you every day how much I love you. 

I trust you, more than anyone in the world, more than my family, more than any friends. Words can't express how thankful I am for you, for all that you do. 

There is nothing that fills me with more joy than hearing you tell me I'm your good girl, and I've made you proud. 

There is nothing that hurts more deeply than knowing I've let you down. The hurt in your eyes...the anger...the disappointment. It cuts, deeply, it stings, far, far worse than any punishment you've ever given me. 

When you push me away...I am lost. I am incomplete. 

Sometimes, I say things I don't mean. I wish this wasn't the case. I'm going to make my very best effort to make sure I curb this tongue of mine. You don't deserve my sharp tongue or temper. No one does, really, but you least of all. 

I try to talk myself out of it. I do. I say things in my mind. I talk to myself. walk away. I count to ten. I breathe deeply, in and out, and often pray. 

But sometimes things come out of my mouth before I can stop them. I get stressed. I get lonely. I get tired, and hormonal. 

I'm not trying to make excuses. There really is no excuse, and I know that. 

But when I begin...that first step down the road towards that path of destruction that burns and destroys...and you stop me...I feel so loved.

Last week I was irritated with you. I wanted to clean something up but you said it was time to go. I sighed irritably and you turned to me, those blue eyes of yours narrowed and serious. "Enough. Are you giving me an attitude?" you said. And that awful, irritable, fire of anger in my chest dissolved. I felt the anger leave and peace settle. 

"No," I said quietly. "I'm not." And we happily went our way. 

A month ago I was getting dressed...I remember this vividly. You said something to me, and I sassed you. I don't remember the conversation but I do remember gripping the dresser because you told me in no uncertain terms that you weren't going to put up with my sass, as you picked up your belt and spanked me. It was shocking to me...I didn't see it coming...but the sass melted away and I felt nothing but peace. I felt respect for you. 

I will never intentionally manipulate you. I firmly believe that testing you can be dishonest and I don't want that for us, ever.

When I'm angry, and hurt, and grumpy, please. Please know I'm not trying to push you. 

I promise you, with all that is in me, that I will always, always, always be honest with you and I will work as hard as I possibly can to be a good girl, to make you proud, to check my tongue and treat you with the respect and kindness you deserve, to make sure I don't spout off in anger or give you an attitude.

But please....save me.

I want you to protect me. You save me from everyone and everything, always. You never let anyone be rude or hurtful to me. You always, always protect me. You won't let a need of mine go unmet, ever. You are so good to me that way. You always make sure I'm safe. 

I don't always need discipline, but I trust you to know when I do. I know sometimes you think that's what I'm asking for... I just need to know you're in charge. Almost every single time I'm spiraling, a firm look, a few words, just a reminder to stop is all I need. 

Please, please, protect me from myself. 

I've tried to do it on my own. And I can't. 

And it hurts. 

I need you. 

I need your guidance. 

I need your discipline. 

I need your love.

Monday, July 29, 2013

Two Simple Words: May I?

Submission is not always easy. 

In fact, I think that is precisely the reason why we Tih's frequently desire deeper dominance. It is one thing to say, "I will obey you," and take that responsibility on our own shoulders. It is easier for me to obey knowing my disobedience will earn me a trip over my husband's knee (thanks for the help, honey!). 

But if we crave dominance, making choices to submit ourselves is crucial. Submission is a gift, freely given. It is a choice. Submitting is not something another person can make us do. 

A good Hoh knows how and when to assert his dominance. He knows when to be merciful, and when to be firm. He knows when a stern word, a gentle touch, or a sound spanking is in order. I am blessed beyond measure to be in the hands of such an Hoh, so I see first-hand the daily communicating, give and take, and effort that such a dynamic requires of both parties. 

And one thing I learned early on was that submission brings about dominance. Without the conscious choice to submit, dominance does not bring about peace, and security. Without voluntary submission, dominance will be ineffective. 

Submission requires humility. It is trusting ourselves to the authority of another. It says, "I love you enough to put myself in your hands." 

So how can we cultivate our own submissive mindset? There are many ways, and I am still working on this myself. I hope to journal a bit more about cultivating a submissive mindset over the next few weeks. But today, I'd like to suggest one very simple little thing. Two simple little words: May I.

A month or so ago, Jason and I were taking the kids out for the day. It was very warm out. I chose to wear a long, dark, lightweight skirt. It is one of my favorite things to wear in the summer because it is airy and comfortable, and it makes me feel feminine. But before we left, Jason noticed I had it on, and it looked warm to him. 

"It's warm out," he said. "Why don't you go up and put a pair of shorts on instead. I'll be in the car with the kids." And he began to walk to the door. 

Now I know why he said this. He didn't want me to be too hot. He wanted me comfortable for the day. The man has never worn a skirt! He has no idea my choice was more comfortable. He was trying to look out for me, not control me. 

But I respect him. I had a few choices. I could've blindly obeyed him and put on a pair of shorts (though I find those less comfortable). I could've argued the point. But instead, I wanted to tell him I was comfortable while still deferring to his leadership. So I simply said, "I'm actually much more comfortable in this skirt. May I just wear this instead?" 

He looked at me in surprise, smiled, and said, "Oh! Of course hon," and off we went. 

A very small example, but I use it to demonstrate the power of those words May I

Asking permission is making the voluntary choice to submit. 

I use this phrase often.

"May I get you a drink?" 

"May I ask you a question?" 

When I need to talk to him about something, instead of saying, "Can we talk?" or "I have something to tell you," I almost always say, "May I talk to you about something?" I think it shows respect, but moreover, it is a reminder to me that I've chosen to put myself under his authority. 

He gets a certain look in his eyes when I say "May I." It's hard to describe...his eyes soften. He looks at me as if I'm someone to be cherished. And when he opens his arms to me, and says, "Of course you can," I feel loved. I feel like he's let me in. I've submitted to him without his ever having to assert his dominance. It's tells him, "I trust you. I defer to you. I've put myself in your hands."

Thursday, July 25, 2013

How Can a Spanking Make Me Feel Loved?

I'm sitting on a sore bottom. 

Why am I sitting on a sore bottom? 

It wasn't a sexy spanking. It wasn't a maintenance or stress relief, and those kinds of spankings make up the huge majority of the spankings I get (thankfully). Nope. It was a good, old-fashioned disciplinary spanking. Honestly, it was the worst I've ever had. 

How do I feel about this? I feel a wide range of emotions. I feel resolved to make sure I will never do anything like what I did again. I feel completely convicted to make sure I avoid being punished, and make sure the trips over my husband's knee are just the "other" kinds of spanking. I really, truly, much prefer that. We both do.

I'm content that my husband loves me. I love that he has 100%, completely embraced his role as Hoh. I love that he is tender, and kind, and sweet, but firm. 

We've come a long way. Why do I want to blog about this? Because I have heard many asking about DD, what it feels like to be punished, and what it feels like to want to be. I also benefit personally from reflecting on the journey Jason and I go through together. 

So I thought it would be worth writing about the range of emotions that go with being disciplined.

What I did to deserve the spanking really doesn't matter. I will say this. It was unintentional, and I did it because I act too quickly sometimes (like the damn stove incident). But I was warned ahead of time that if it happened again, I'd be soundly spanked. I knew that when I realized my error. But what I did threatened the lives of one of my children (like when I forgot to buckle my baby's car seat, or when I forgot to put the gate up and she fell down the stairs).Thank God I caught my mistake in time and no one was injured.

I'm mostly a responsible, mature adult, but sometimes I slip up. :(

I spent the better part of the day beating myself up over my mistake, and dreading having to tell my husband. 

Part of me dreaded the spanking I was going to get. I knew he was serious about it, and that it would be no walk in the park. He does not give me little love pats when I'm disciplined. But part of me hoped he'd just warn me, and I'd get another chance not to do it again. I'm only human.

But I mostly dreaded telling him because I knew I let him down. I know he trusts me to be a good, patient, loving mother, and there is nothing that gets me in more trouble than when I do something (intentionally or not) that threatens our family's safety. In fact, the three hardest spankings I've ever gotten have been over that very issue. 

And here's the kicker. Part of me hoped he would spank me. 

Why? Because I felt like I deserved it. I was absolutely riddled with guilt. I wanted that guilt washed away. I wanted to know Jason forgave me. I wanted motivation to pay attention and do what's right. 

I wanted to be able to forgive myself. 

I went through the day with my upcoming confession looming over me, until finally it was time for him to come home from work. At first, I made small talk, trying to be cheerful, so as not to ruin the end of his day. I don't like to dump everything on him the minute he is done with work. But he knows me through and through, and he can read me like a book. 

“You're holding something back,” he said. “Do you have something you need to tell me?” His voice took on that stern edge that makes my heart beat faster.

My heart sank but at the same time I was grateful I could finally get it off my chest. 

I told him, all at once, in a rush of words that were just above a whisper.

“I can't hear you,” he said. “Speak up.” 

So I had to repeat myself. Oh, dear.

“I'm so glad you caught that mistake, honey,” he said. “I'm so glad no one was injured. But I told you what would happen if you did that again.” 

“Yes,” I whispered, my hope for just a warning dwindling. 

He reached for my hand and squeezed it. “I forgive you, sweetie. But you're getting a spanking. And I'm going to spank you hard for this. I want to make sure this never happens again.” 

Again, mixed feelings, mixed emotions...thankfulness that my husband takes our family's safety seriously. A deep feeling of being cared for and loved by his firm but gentle manner. Even a bit of arousal at his stern demeanor and the promise of a spanking. 

Serious dread of the upcoming punishment.

We went home, and he made sure our kids were occupied so we could have privacy. He knows I hate waiting, and he said he'd get it over with as soon as possible. I busied myself getting dinner ready. Then I heard him call my name and my stomach dropped to my feet. 

I walked upstairs to him literally dragging my feet. When I got to our room, I saw two implements – the dreaded belt and that awful brush – laid out on the bed. My stomach dropped even further. When I get a serious spanking, he uses more than one implement. I can count on one hand the amount of times this has happened. 

Then he did something different.  He put his hand on my chin and lifted my face to his, and kissed me. Then he put his arms around me and held me, hugged me for a long time. I knew he was reassuring me. I knew he didn't want to punish me. He took me by the hand and undressed me himself.

“Okay, honey. Let's get this over with,” he said as he let me go. He motioned for me to lie over the bed. He knows I prefer to be over his lap, and the huge majority of the time, that is what he does. But he wanted to make an impression. He was not fooling around. And I knew I was really in for it. 

“Why are you getting a spanking?” he asked, as is his custom. I told him, and got choked up repeating it. 

"That's right," he said. "That's why I'm spanking you, and I want to make sure this doesn't happen again." 

“I don't want anyone to be hurt because of me,” I said, my voice trembling because I was on the verge of tears. “I'd feel so awful about it.” 

“I know, honey. I would, too.  I'm going to warm you up good now.” 

He did this because he was getting ready to spank the hell out of me, and I knew it. But at this point I wanted that spanking so badly. I was consumed with guilt. I wanted the cleansing only a spanking gives me. 

He warmed me up, first with his hand, then his belt, a dozen or so gentle strokes. Then I really got the belt, over and over and over again. It was hard to take. It stung, and it stung deeply. I dug my feet in the floor and clenched the bedspread. He paused between sets, rubbing me and talking to me, then there was nothing but silence and the intermittent whoosh of the belt and me trying so hard to be quiet and trying so hard not to move. He stopped, used his hand a few times, put his hand on my back to steady me, then put the belt down and got the brush. 

He swung the brush hard, all over, my upper thighs, peppering me with swat after swat, varying in intensity, sometimes in the same place over and over and over again until I could hardly stand the pain anymore. A light tap with the heavy brush makes me catch my breath and squirm. Now he swung it hard. I knew I'd feel this for days. I knew I'd hardly be able to sit. I felt the tears clog my eyes and a lump in my throat, but I can't cry when I'm spanked. I just get through it. I was so far beyond my pain tolerance I could do nothing but take it, submit to the spanking, trust myself to him. 

When he spanks me that hard (which is not often), I go into a different place mentally. I sink into my submission. I have no choice. I can't get away. I can't stop it. I can only submit, take it, put myself in his hands.

It was harsh, thorough, and by far the worst I've ever gotten. 

And then he was done. 

“You're all done, baby girl,” he said. “It's all over.” He sat next to me on the bed while I just laid there, not wanting to move or get up. He massaged me and talked to me, gentle soothing words to tell me he loved me, that I was forgiven, and that he knew I wouldn't do it again. I needed that aftercare badly. He lifted me up and I put my head in his lap, and finally the tears came. He held me as I wept. 

“I'm so sorry,” I said. 

“I know. But it's all over now,” he said, and again he put his finger under my chin and lifted my face to his. His blue eyes looked intently into mine.“And I know you're never, ever going to do anything like that again. Right?” 

I nodded. “I won't! I promise. Never, ever again.”

He kissed the top of my head and put his arms around me. “I love you so much,” he whispered. 

“I know you do,” I whispered back. “I love you, too. Thank you for taking care of us. I didn't want to be punished but I wanted that spanking really badly. I felt so guilty!” 

“I understand,” he said. And I know he really and truly does. 

This is why being his Submissive makes me feel loved. Because he knows I want him to be my Dominant. He knows it's what I need, and he does it because he loves me. I feel like we complete each other, a give and take, daily walking side by side, a peaceful, harmonious fulfilling and meeting each other's needs, him giving me the loving, firm, steadfast protection I crave and me fulfilling his need to love, care for, and protect. 

We had business to tend to, kids to feed, so he kissed me and sent me on my way. It was hard to even stand. I was sore. It hurt to walk, and I literally sat on a cushioned chair when I had to sit. 

Before we went to bed, he asked me how I felt. 

“Sore,” I responded. I was terribly sore. I ached with the pain of the spanking. 

He put his arm around me. “Poor girl,” he murmured gently. “I'm so sorry you're sore.” Then his voice grew hard again. “But I'm not sorry I spanked you. You know how seriously I take our family's safety. And you know if it ever happens again, it will be even worse.” 

“Yes, Jason,” I whispered, again consumed with the feeling of being loved. His tenderness and kindness, balanced with steadfast dependability. 

He rolled me over on my belly and massaged me, all over my legs and bottom, that tender area he'd spanked so severely just hours before, until I fell asleep. 

I've had people tell me his "gentle" approach wouldn't work for them. I'm not so sure I'd say his approach his gentle (my bottom agrees). But I need his reassurance. It works for us.

It is often said that DD is sometimes romanticized. Maybe I'm guilty as charged. But the reality is, when DD is embraced, and both parties fully understand the needs of the other, when love is at the heart of the relationship? It is romantic. It is a deeply emotional, highly personal experience. I, as the submissive partner feel vulnerable, raw, exposed. And when my loving husband meets my needs, I feel incredibly loved.  He takes my vulnerability and cherishes it. He never abuses his authority. And in so doing, he draws me closer to him.

Do I over-romanticize it? Maybe a bit. 

But do I feel loved? Is it romantic? No doubt.

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

I Love My DD Choice

MrBBSpanker from A Domestic Discipline Society is calling all DD bloggers to stand together, in the face of criticism, to stand up and be counted. You may have read my refutation of the "Spanking for Jesus" article that went viral a few weeks ago. Click on the little button below to read MrBB's response.

I've made friends in the community, and have come to love and appreciate the support and encouragement of like-minded people. The DD community is composed of intelligent, witty, kind people I am pleased to call friends. I love my DD life and I love the DD community. I am happy to have an opportunity to stand behind the community.

Why do I love my DD choice? What has it done for my marriage?

This fall will mark one year my husband Jason and I began DD. Although we are not new to dominance and submission, I would say that DD has taken us to a new level.

The past year has not been perfect. Living this life is not easy. We've had to work out kinks (pun intended) and we've had to talk things through.

But at the end of the day, I love my DD choice.


I love being close to my husband. He makes my heart pound. Seeing how strong and confident he is makes me appreciate who he is -- my strong, masculine husband who balances his strength and gentleness with grace and integrity.

We laugh, we tease, we enjoy each other. There is peace and tranquility in my home. And there is passion. Eleven years and a bunch of kids later, and our love life has never been better. I long to be with him. We enjoy every minute together.

I love that he watches over me and protects me. I feel cared for and loved to the core of my being.

I love that there is peace in my home. I love that he leads us with quiet, steadfast confidence that doesn't waver.

I love that he helps me achieve high goals. He encourages me and supports me, and there have been times I've been taken in hand to help me overcome my weaknesses and insecurities. He does this because he loves me, and I love him for it.

I love that I don't struggle with stress or guilt anymore. The simple truth is that often a trip over my husband's knee removes my stress and alleviates my guilt.

I go to bed at night at peace, happily under the loving protection of my husband.

My husband says I've blossomed. He says he loves how I've become demure and feminine. 

He says he likes knowing I will not interfere with his leadership. He knows if he decides something is in our family's best interest I will not argue or question him because I trust him completely.

The DD life is not always easy. 

It is sometimes challenging for him to lead. It takes courage, strength, and dedication. 

It is not always easy for me follow. It takes strength and humility to trust myself to him. It is challenging to humble oneself to another's authority. At times I am vulnerable and needy.

But I would have it no other way. 

I love my husband. I love where our choices have brought us. 

And I love my DD choice.

Monday, July 15, 2013

Better Than I Know Myself

It's our morning check-in time. I'm lying flat on his chest, chin resting on my hands, gazing up at him. He's still sleepy and his blue, blue eyes are staring back at me. We're laughing and flirting, and his still-sleepy voice is husky and groggy. I've been up for a while -- I always am -- and I'm feeling quite chipper, but I have a lot on my mind. I feel the temptation to push.

I feel like I'm falling, and I want him to catch me.

"I feel a bit...unsure. You know, a little stressed," I say, and he nods and rubs my back.

"I know. It'll be okay, babe," he says, about one particular thing that's bothering me. I lay my head on his chest and he strokes my hair.

I tell him all that I have to do, and all that I have planned, and  I feel the weight of everything on my shoulders. There is one thing I'm worried about, then there is one thing that is exciting but nerve-wracking, and one thing I've almost completed but haven't fully done yet, that must be done. Not to mention the every day taking care of things that running this house entails is wearying at times.

"Want your coffee?" I ask, and he grins.

"Yeeees. Cooffeeeeee."

I smile. I get up and get his coffee. Nearly every morning I bring his coffee up for our morning check-in.

I come up and hand it to him. He is sitting on the side of the bed. After a bit, he puts the coffee down on the end table and pats his lap.

"What?" I ask.

"Over my lap," he says.

I stand in front of him but don't obey. Not yet. "I don't think I need a spanking," I say. I'm not trying to be rude, just telling him how I feel.

He smiles and pats his lap again. "Yes, you do. Come on, now. You'll feel better," he says. Then his voice lowers and the smile fades. He is serious now. "Over my lap," he repeats, this time more insistent.

I'm not opposed to the idea, really, and the reality is, I'm left with little choice. I either trust him, do what he says, and put myself in his hands, or I disobey him. So I position myself over his lap and lay my head on my arms on the bed. 

He starts spanking me with his hand, a warm up. He's talking as he spanks me, telling me I'll feel better, to let it go and relax, and I instantly feel myself relaxing. It's not a hard spanking. I'm not in trouble. It's him taking control, and that weight is lifting off my shoulders. He's joking now, making some wisecracks, and I'm giggling. Then his voice lowers, and he pauses. I feel him reach across me, open the drawer next to our bed, and I know he's going for an implement. I catch my breath, as I both dread and anticipate it. I know it will hurt, but I also know it will push me, push me into that submissive place where I am comfortable and happier, fully submitted to him. 

He gets the brush and starts spanking me again. But he's not spanking me too hard. Just enough that I can really feel it, just enough that I can really sink down, down into that place that I need to be, that happy submissive place that being over his lap takes me. The brush is sharp, the sting deep, but he's not punishing me. It's not like that.

I kick my feet up after a particularly hard swat. He chuckles.

"I love those cute little feet kicking up," he says. Then he speaks firmly and that edge comes into his voice. "When is this spanking over?"

"When you say," I whisper. 

"That's right," he murmurs, and gives me a few more sharp swats.

This is his way, his way of reminding me he's in charge. His way of protecting me, giving me what I need, because he knows how I crave him being in charge.

"It's over," he says, and he's lifting me up. I'm sinking into his arms, on my knees, my head in his lap. The weight has lifted. Ironically, I feel more confident, motivated, like a fog has been lifted and I can see more clearly. 

I feel he's behind me. He's got me.

I'm his. All his. I belong to him, and there's no place I'd rather be than here, in his arms, fully trusting myself to the man that knows me through and through, who knows the working of my heart and the wandering of my mind, who knows the meaning of the slightest sigh or wistful glance, who knows when I need a hug, or a kiss, or a good, hard spanking.

Safe in the arms of the man who knows me so well...

... better than I know myself.

Friday, July 12, 2013

Maintenance Spanking: Yay or Nay?

Today Bob and I are each taking a different side of a somewhat controversial subject in the DD community: maintenance spanking. 

Bob from "Thoughts on TTWD" is taking the "pros" and I'm taking the "cons." 

First, what exactly is "maintenance spanking?"  MrBBSpanker over at A Domestic Discipline Society has a good article on it here. A maintenance spanking isn't a punishment. It isn't a sexy, or "good girl" spanking. It isn't a stress-relief spanking. 

Simply put, maintenance is a tool many DD couples use to keep their DD relationship in good working order.

Before I give my personal opinion on the "cons" of a maintenance spanking, I wanted to re-iterate a few points. First, there is no "right" way to do Domestic Discipline. Each couple practices DD differently. Not only are no two DD couples the same, even the same DD couple doesn't necessarily practice DD the same from one point to the next. It's evolving, a journey, two people figuring out what works for them and how to grow together. 

Secondly, as I mentioned above, maintenance is a tool. A good mechanic chooses the correct tool to use at the correct time, and some tools, he will never use. There are many tools a couple has at their disposal -- DD journals, spanking, corner time, essay writing, even blogging can be a tool. Maintenance is just one of those tools. 

My husband put his foot down and said "no maintenance." His number one reason was that he saw no need to punish me when I'd done nothing wrong and frankly, I appreciate that! So here, in our relationship, we don't do the "traditional" maintenance.

We do have a few tools we use that I would call "maintenance-type" spanking -- namely my "spank tank" fill-ups and my trips to see Mr. Ben Dover when I'm spiraling out of control. Frankly, Jason reserves the right to spank me when he thinks "I need it." Sometimes I need a reminder. Sometimes I need a little bit of assistance in staying on track, or motivation. Sometimes (often) I need to know "he's got me," some good ol' role affirmation. This totally works for us. 

But traditional maintenance is a time-based tool, so it is set up ahead of time (say, Sunday afternoons, Wednesday mornings). The purpose is primarily to re-establish roles, and to keep the Tih "on track." 

I can definitely see the purpose of maintenance spanking, because I do need reminders, role-affirmation,  and motivation sometimes, and I do think those kind of spankings keep our relationship in good working order. I mean no disrespect to those who use maintenance. If it is a tool that works for a couple, then by all means, they should use it. 

But the purpose of this blog post, in the interest of looking at both sides of the story, is to explain the possible "cons" of maintenance. It doesn't work for every couple.

When might maintenance not work? 

The first "con," as I see it, is the possibility of actually weakening the relationship instead of strengthening it. Instead of looking at spanking as something that will help, some Tih's I know dread maintenance. Things are going along smoothly, and they are working hard at staying on track, only to know there's still a spanking coming no matter what. And they find this disheartening. Even though maintenance is is supposed to be lesser intensity than a punishment spanking, many Tih's still find they get that unpleasant, nervous feeling when they know maintenance is coming. 

Another possible "con" is that one can get used to it, so the Tih just grins and bears it, like a trip to the dentist, or taking one's vitamins. They go along with it because they're expected to, so essentially there is little to no positive effect. If a Tih is thinking along these lines, it is possible that spanking, in general, can become less of a deterrent. It loses its effectiveness over time.

A third possibility is the idea "I'm getting a spanking anyway, so why behave?" Yes, this is a rather immature approach to things, but sometimes a Tih's willpower might be at a low. Maybe she's tired, or grumpy. She figures there's already a spanking at the end of the road, so there's no point in doing what she should. 

In general, maintenance is a tool served to strengthen a DD relationship. If a couple finds it's having the opposite effect, maybe it's time to re-visit the purpose of maintenance. Maybe, like us, maintenance isn't something that will work for them. Maybe some tweaking needs to be done. If maintenance isn't strengthening and improving the relationship, maybe it's time to put that tool back in the toolbox, and take out another. 

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

How Can I Encourage His Dominance?

We want to be Dommed. We want that security that a loving but firm hand brings. This is normal, and natural. But sometimes, we think our Hoh doesn't measure up, and we feel let down. This was one of the first issues I struggled with as a Tih and one that seems to be so common, I thought it would be worth sharing our experience.

I went through a period when I felt my husband really wasn't being dominant enough with me. I read, I talked to my husband, we argued, I talked to others in the community. I got some fantastic advice. And I came to a few conclusions.

There is good news and bad news. First, the bad news.

You can't get your Hoh to be more dominant. You can't control what someone else does any more than I can go to the gym for you, or you can take my vitamins for me. We are responsible for our own choices.

But here's the good news. You can encourage your Hoh to be more dominant.

I feel this describes my husband to a "T."

I can honestly and truly say that Jason is every bit as in charge, patient, merciful, firm and unyielding...as I could ever want. I told him recently he is the Hoh of my dreams, and I mean it.

He actually asked me a week or two ago, "Are there any ways I'm not being dominant enough that you need me to be?" and I honestly told him, "Noooo. No, not at all."

But it hasn't always been this way. 

There was a time when I was consumed with getting things right. Nothing he did was right.  When he chose to be merciful, I saw him as not caring. Even when he disciplined me, he didn't spank hard enough, or often enough, or lecture me enough.

I had a vision in my head of how he "should" be doing things, and I set both of us up for failure. At one point he even said to me, "I'm sorry I don't measure up to all the perfect Doms you read about!" Oh, dear. Yeah, I don't recommend that approach.

Many times, we approach DD and think, "If only he did this, things would be perfect."

But, no. It doesn't really work like that.

How do you get to where you are both happy in your DD relationship? How can you encourage your Hoh to be more dominant? How did we do this?

"Submission brings about dominance."

I read that, several times, and it really changed the way I started approaching things.

Often we Subs look to our Doms to bring about our submission, but the truth is, it doesn't really work that way.

Allow me to use an analogy. Imagine you decided you wanted to make some changes in your health, so you signed on with a personal trainer. Your trainer would give you guidelines and suggestions, but your trainer isn't going to do the work for you. If you don't get up and exercise, and follow your trainer's suggestions, are you going to reach the goal you are striving for? No. Would it be fair to blame the trainer? Of course not.

It's really not  a heck of a lot different. You can't look to your Hoh to make you submissive.

I couldn't make him more dominant. The only person I could change was me.

I started by cultivating a submissive mindset. I told myself I wanted to obey Jason. When I made a mistake or said something I shouldn't have, I stopped myself and apologized, and made myself ask "Is this what he would want of me?"

Instead of asking myself what I shouldn't do, I asked myself what I should do. I knew he wanted me to drive safely. I knew he didn't want me to text while driving. I knew he wanted me to take care of my children, and the house, and speak to him respectfully. I knew he wanted me to get enough sleep, to exercise, and to work on projects of my own. I made it my number one goal please him.

And when I did, things started to change. He started taking more of an initiative. He raised his expectations of me. We started to communicate our needs...both mine, and his...and we worked on things, one day at a time.

I started really asking myself why I wanted DD, and I made an effort to explain that to Jason. I started communicating my needs to him differently. When he did Dom me, I thanked him and explained to him how safe, protected, and cherished I felt.

He had to feel that I trusted him. And had to see that I loved him just the way he was. I had to show him that I really and truly appreciated everything he did for me.

I had to be grateful for what I already had.

And in turn, he made it his goal to give me what I needed. He saw how when he was in charge, I was more secure in him. I told him how I felt loved and cared for when he gave me what I needed, and because he loves me, he made an effort to give me what I needed.

Monday, July 8, 2013

Because My Husband Told me To

My husband instructed me to post this.

First, a little background. 

A few weeks ago, I forgot to shut my stove off. I am easily distracted. When I discovered I did it, I felt awful and fessed up to my husband. My husband is a big believer in "first time warning" (which I am eternally grateful for!) so, as is his custom, he told me it was dangerous, and if it happened again, I'd get a spanking. 

I'm ashamed to admit it happened again...um, more than once...and I got spanked, more than once.

A little more background. I am very grateful and blessed that I am part of the DD community. I have a core of like-minded friends I regularly chat and text with, whose friendships I've come to value and cherish.  I like to chat with them. I like to text with them. 

Maybe a bit too much sometimes. 

Last night, I was cooking dinner, and I was bored flipping the 327 pieces of french toast and eggs I was making for my brood of kids. So, I popped into chat on my phone. Cooked dinner, chatted a bit, then said good-bye and set the table. 

And forgot to shut off the two burners heating my large, cast-iron griddle.

Jason found it on.


He spanked me last night. When he was done, he told me as part of my punishment I had to post on my blog that because I was chatting with people in the DD community, I forgot to shut the stove off and got a spanking. He is hoping the embarrassment of having to admit it to others will prevent me from doing it again. 

I hope so, too. 

To my dear husband -- I am sorry. I promise I will do my very very best to never do it again. I know you take this seriously because it's so dangerous. I love you.

Friday, July 5, 2013

The Spank Tank

I have said before I have "high needs" when it comes to being dominated. I didn't understand these needs for a long time...sometimes I still don't.

But as time went on, and overcame some habits, I was spanked less frequently.

A funny thing happened. If it had been some time when I hadn't gotten in trouble, I started feeling weird. Although I didn't really want to be punished, I felt "off." Something just wasn't right...I'd get antsy, irritable, and fight the urge to brat out.

I talked to my husband about this. "You give me so little reason to punish you," he said. 

I felt insecure still. What to do? I didn't want to give him a reason to punish me...but I still felt the need to know he was in charge.

He still spanked me frequently for sexy good girl spankings. But although they were hot, they didn't really satisfy this emotional need I have...that security that says "I'm here." That security of knowing he's still in charge.

Maybe maintenance would work? I asked Jason. 

"No maintenance," he said. "I'm not comfortable punishing you for no reason."

I submitted to his answer. I didn't really quite get why people would spank for no reason anyway. That's how I saw it anyway. I now see maintenance as something that could totally work for a DD couple, but Jason says no, so we don't do the traditional "maintenance." 

Time passed. I felt the same. Finally one day he said, "Look hon, if you need a spanking every day, just tell me."

Just tell him? Hmmm. I had asked for stress relief before. But both he and I prefer it when he calls the shots. So we talked...a few times I would tell him how I felt and I'd feel better when he'd give me a role affirmation or stress relief spanking.

Jason has always referred to my need to be close physically as my tank, and hugging me or cuddling would be like "filling up my tank."

What if I could communicate my needs by code? 

Maybe I should call it my spank tank?


I told him the idea and he thought it would work. No more temptation for me to brat out.  No more wondering if he'd ever spank me. He no longer had to worry about trying to read my mind. I could communicate my needs effectively and he could ultimately decide what to give me.

So every day -- sometimes multiple times a day -- we have a spank tank check in.

"How's that spank tank?" he'll ask. Some days I'll tell him I'm all filled up!  I am happy and secure. Maybe things are just going my way. I have a constant need to be reassured and Dommed by him, and he's becoming fantastic at intuitively understanding where I am and what I need. For example, last week a few things suddenly happened all at once, and I felt myself losing my grip. He reached out, looked me straight in the eye and said, "Babe, I've got you." I love that. 

I've got you.

My tank is usually plenty full after I've gotten in trouble, as the man knows how to spank. Period. It's rare a spanking isn't felt for at least a day or two. 

But sometimes...sometimes I am running on empty. Sometimes I need to feel him. 

"My spank tank is depleting," I'll say, and he will spank me. It might be a few swats, a kiss, and a reminder to stay on track and do what I need to. 

But sometimes I'm empty. Completely and utterly spent. Desiring to be at his feet and fully submitted to him. 

Then I will tell him, "My spank tank is empty." 

And he knows I need a good, hard spanking. He will deliver. He will lecture. He will remind me what I need to do, and who's in charge. 

Now that we have these daily check-in's, I rarely, if ever, feel the need to act out. I rarely feel the temptation to do something I shouldn't to make sure he's still in charge. 

Sometimes I want his attention, and I feel the need to "poke the bear," so to speak. I felt this need recently and some friends talked me off the ledge. Then when I felt the need last night, I went to him and told him flat out what I was feeling. He immediately put down what he was doing, and we talked it through. No need to test.

Even though I tell him where my reading is on my tank, he is the one who decides if he will spank me, how long and how hard. He calls the shots, ultimately. 

Which is exactly the way it should be.

Thursday, July 4, 2013

Spiraling Out and a Good Spanking

Spiraling out of control. Yes, that's what happens to me. Why, you ask? Why does a normally sane, (well, relatively speaking), somewhat mature (at times) woman go nuts

Jason is blaming my hormones and I quite agree. Perhaps some of you can relate. 

It didn't always used to be this way. There was a time when these nasty little buggers didn't bother me, but suffice it to say, now is not that time. Jason and I started noticing a pattern a few months ago, and my dear husband decided a good maintenance spanking would help. How often would I need it? Would it really help?

Turns out yes, it absolutely does help, and I need it about once a day. 

I thought he'd give me a few swats to keep the hormones at bay, but when we do a maintenance-type spanking, he calls all the shots. He did not give me a few swats but a good, hard spanking, accompanied by a long lecture. 

"I know you feel out of control and miserable. Trust me to lead you. You'll get past this." 

"One step at a time. Let it all go." 

I was left happy and content until the next morning, when I'd wake with that elephant on my chest and the desire to throw things. Yes, I'm not kidding. Ack! 

Rinse, lather, repeat. 

So yesterday I realized that once again, the evil little demons were coming to play again. Everything was going well...until it wasn't. I wanted to cry or stomp my feet and break things for really no reason. I told my husband. 

Jason: "That's okay, babe. I have a plan for you." 

I can sometimes be a bit slow on the uptake. What did he have in mind? (duh!)

Me: "Oh yeah? What, hon?"

Jason: With a smile. "I'm gonna smack it outta your ass." 

Me: Oh. Eeep! Gulp. "You really think it'll help?"

Jason: "Yes, I sure do. In fact, there's a guy who discovered the cure for PMS. His name is Ben Dover, and the name of his company is OTK." 

Me: Giggles nervously, somewhat apprehensive cuz the guy spanks HARD but happy that I won't have to deal with these awful feelings.

So I felt better just having him home! The nasty little buggers ran away...until that evening. Oh Lordy. 

We went out to see fireworks, and I had some sangria...a bit too much for someone who was supposed to drive home. I was fine to drive but wine knocks me out. I was exhausted. So tired I could hardly keep my eyes open in traffic. So we're stuck in traffic and I can barely keep my eyes open, so Jason decides the best thing to do is blast the a/c to keep me awake. It worked alright but I was pissed and actually slammed it off at one point. 

"Don't touch it again," he said. "You touch it again, you're in major trouble when we get home." 

I was fuming. But, awake. We drove a bit longer. Finally I begged him, "Please shut it off!" 

"Nope and if you even ask me again, you know exactly what'll happen when we get home."

So I absolutely seethed the entire way home. When I got home, really I was a goner. I don't know if I could've reigned in if I tried. But I didn't even try. He got the kids ready while I stomped my way to my room and let loose a few nasty words I shouldn't have. He followed me in the room, shut and locked the door, and picked up an implement. 

I did what I have never ever done before. 

"No!" I shouted. "Don't you dare! Leave me alone!" 

As if that was going to stop him? 

So then I did something else I've never done before. I flipped over so I was laying flat on my back and he couldn't reach my butt. 

"Turn around!" 

"Noooo! The kids are still awake! Leave me alone!" 

Told you I was crazy.

He's bigger than I am, so the next thing I know, he's flipping me over, telling me exactly what he expects of me, and pulling my pants down. I reluctantly got on my belly and buried my head in my arms.


I got a good spanking, a firm lecture, and he left the room.

I was humbled. The nasty bugger feelings were completely gone. But now all I felt was repentant, secure in him, but really needing a hug and reassurance. 

He came back in the room after the kids were put to bed. I crawled into his arms and he held me, consoled me, and talked to me. He told me the first spanking was for the attitude, then told me to get over his lap for another spanking for drinking too much. 

Oh Lordy

But it wasn't a hard spanking, more of a warning, with a lecture about being safe and how much he loved me. It immediately led to other far more pleasant things, and I went to sleep utterly and blissfully content. 

Here I am now, and I know I will have Mr. Ben Dover to thank for curing my PMS over the next couple of days, but I'm feeling perfectly fine with that. Really, it's just what the doctor...or shall I say Dom... ordered.

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

Just cuz I'm in a good mood


Been there, DONE. THAT.

All who can relate, say "aye!"

This is what I'm sayin', peeps. Roll with the kink! 

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

A Morning Check-In

He is getting ready for the day, but pauses for our morning check-in. He is sitting on the edge of the bed. 

"C'mere," he says, in that sleepy husky voice I love. 

I walk over and stand in front of him, between his legs, his hands on my hips. 

"You're so gorgeous," he says, and I look down and smile shyly. I don't think I am but he does, and that's good enough for me. "How'd I get so lucky to end up with a girl like you?"

I smile mischievously. I lean over and kiss his cheek. 

"I ask myself the same thing every day," I whisper in his ear. I do. I adore him. But I feel the temptation to tease a bit. "How'd you get so lucky to end up with a girl like me?"

He gives me that narrowed-eyed look with the smirk I love so much. 

"Oh yeah? Is that what you ask yourself, naughty girl?" he says. He grabs my wrist and hauls me over his lap which, when I'm not in trouble and he's playing around, is freaking hot.

Swat! Swat! Swat!

I'm screeching and giggling and trying to get away all at the same time, but he holds me fast and spanks me until I've been sufficiently chastened for my sauciness. 

It's all in good fun, of course. That's the best part.

I collapse in his arms. In my submissive happy place.

Happy. Content. Loved.