I've been trying to process through this. It seems it should be contradictory. It seems I'd want to banish those memories. But no. Those are the ones I bring up, back in my mind, and they give me comfort in solace. They are the ones that become deeply erotic memories. Although at the time they are awful to endure, they are the ones I hold onto.
Why is it that the serious times are the ones I hold onto the most? As one friend said, "It's because they fix what is broken."
That is definitely part of it.
I think it's also that there is complete trust, and complete surrender in being seriously punished. And the forgiveness and reconnection after is always amazing.
At the time, it's difficult to endure. It hurts being spanked, and the emotional hurt of knowing I've done something deserving of serious punishment is also hard to bear.
I've written about some of the serious spankings I've gotten, processing through my thoughts and feelings at the time like A Memorable Spanking and How Can a Spanking Make Me Feel Loved? But some of them have been too raw, too difficult to write about, too personal. And still, they are what I remember.
Yesterday, I got a serious punishment spanking. Honestly, it was a rough DD day for me. There are times when I think, "This is it. I'm going to frustrate him and push him away." I think, "No one would put up with me, and all the ways I fail." I think, "How can he still be here to catch me when I keep falling over, and over, and over again?"
It's not that I don't try hard to obey him. I really do. In fact, just this week he said, "You really do behave so well, the majority of the time. Just sometimes you slip up. Sometimes you need me to spank that brat out of you. Sometimes you need me to help you get back on track."
I am so thankful he feels that way.
I started the day off being pretty grumpy. It was one of those mornings -- no one could find their shoes, it was cold, there was stuff out of place everywhere I turned, little ones were pulling on my legs and whining, and it went on and on. I finally got the little ones dressed and occupied before I went to have a private morning check-in with Jason. But before I did, I managed to grump at him and mutter a "fine" under my breath. Long story short, my morning check-in spanking ended up being harder than it would've been, and I had my texting privileges removed for the morning so I could focus on what needed to be done. I did what I had to do, and when Jason left for the day I felt focused, and on my game, and thankful he'd set me straight.
But things unraveled as the day went on.
I have a few health rules. I have some goals I'm trying to achieve, and Jason has promised me he will help me achieve those goals by holding me accountable. One of the agreements we have is that I am to stick to my diet -- I'm not allowed to have any sweets without permission, except on the weekends. I've agreed to this rule. I suggested this rule. It honestly helps me, having my health rules in place, to stay on track.
Well, I was stressed. I was done. And in a fit of temper and irritability, I went to the cabinet and got out the chocolate. Just a little the voice in the back of my mind began. He'll understand, it continued. When you tell him how stressed you were, he'll let you off the hook.
So what did I do? I intentionally and deliberately disobeyed the rule. I felt guilty but even in the moment, I pushed all thoughts of guilt aside.
But as the afternoon wore on, the other little voice began.
You told him before he went to work today you would obey all your health rules, said the little voice. I started feeling a little nervous. I'd also slipped up on a few other fairly small things, and I wondered how he would react. Sometimes he is strict with me, but sometimes he knows I need mercy.
When I picked him up, I told him I had some things to tell him. I told him...everything...and when I got to the chocolate, his voice dropped.
"Oh. So you chose to disobey a rule. And you did it on purpose."
"Yes," in a little voice. "But it was only a little...and I ate it with trail mix...and I thought maybe you'd let it go."
"Let it go? How can I let it go? You told me you wouldn't disobey your health rules today. But you chose to disobey. It doesn't matter if it was only a little. The bottom line is, you disobeyed me and you didn't do what you said you would."
My stomach dropped to my feet. He was right, and I knew it. But then, the little voice pushed me to tell the truth, all the truth, and nothing but the truth.
"Well...I have to tell you something else then."
"It wasn't the first time I've done this."
"You mean to tell me you've broken this rule before and not told me?"
Tears came to my eyes as I whispered, "Yes."
He reached over and gave me the hand signal that tells me I'm getting a spanking.
And I knew then. It wasn't the chocolate. It's not about chocolate. He's not rigid about my rules and when I've tried hard, it's not uncommon for him to surprise me with a bar of chocolate, or a treat. In fact, I had nearly a whole week off near Thanksgiving.
It's about honesty. And obedience. And trust.
But he didn't lecture me. He didn't get angry. He reached for my hand, and squeezed it.
"I love you," he said. "And being honest is important in our marriage. I want you to know I forgive you. Later on, you'll have your consequence for your disobedience. But then we will let it go."
I cried a bit. I felt so awful. He's so good to me.
We had errands to run. He went into the store and to my surprise, when he came back, he handed me a bouquet of flowers, a beautiful holiday bouquet.
"Notice the color of this bouquet, baby girl?" he asked.
I smiled shyly. "Red."
"You know why they're red, don't you?"
I nodded. Because I knew the flowers weren't going to be the only red thing he'd give me that evening.
As we drove home, I said "Thanks for helping me with this. I know I messed up, but you're helping me face it."
He reached out and put his hand on my neck and squeezed. "I look at it this way. I love you. You made a mistake. But I want you to know, it's still going to be okay."
We got home, and I began preparing dinner. To my surprise, he came into the kitchen.
"The kids are situated and in the other room. Let's get this over with."
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, but I obeyed him and followed him to the stairs. He took me by the arm, pointed to the stairs, and his gentle demeanor fled. He grew stern, as he led me to our bedroom.
"Sit on the bed," he instructed. I hung my head like a naughty girl, knowing it wasn't going to be easy.
He locked the door, then turned, rolled up his sleeves, and off came the belt.
I didn't see him remove it, because at this point I'd covered my face with my hands. But I heard the clink of the buckle. Somehow I knew I was going to get the belt. The past few serious spankings have all been the belt.
"Stand up. Off with the pants and bend over the bed."
I obeyed him as quickly as possible, before my courage fled.
"Why are you getting a spanking?" he asked in a hard voice before the first stroke landed.
"Because I disobeyed you and I was dishonest," I said quickly, squeezing my eyes shut and holding onto the bedspread.
"And do naughty girls who don't obey get put over the lap?"
"No," I whispered.
He strapped me long and hard, while lecturing me on the importance of trusting him, and obeying him. It was a hard lecture to endure, as he asked me questions while the belt fell, and I struggled to answer. I find it so hard to answer him when I'm being spanked so firmly, but I did my best.
"Do you know how important it is that you tell me the truth?"
"Yes, sir," I responded, as he spanked me.
"I trust you to be honest with me about our rules. These rules are here to help you. And I can't help you if you're not honest with me."
Swat. Swat. Swat.
At one point he paused, leaned over and rubbed me, and talked to me. I don't remember what he said, something about being a good girl who does as she's told. I knew instinctively he wasn't done, and I was right. He stood back up, and continued to strap me.
"I expect you to obey me. Are you going to obey me?"
"Yes, sir. I will. I'm so sorry!" I said.
And then he was done. He leaned over and rubbed me, for a long time, talking quietly to me.
"Would you like some lotion now?" he asked softly, and I nodded. I love when he puts lotion on me after a spanking. It doesn't always happen. He went to the bathroom, came back with the lotion, and rubbed it all over.
I felt...content. At peace. Deeply loved, and taken care of.
"Come here, now," he said softly, and I knelt in front of him and put my head in his lap.
Usually after a serious punishment spanking, I cry. Usually, I feel terrible, sometimes for days even. But I didn't. I felt nothing but completely secure and loved. I felt so happy in his arms, my head on his lap.
I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.
"Chocolate, flowers, and a spanking," he said with a chuckle. "Sounds like the title of a blog post."
I smiled. "I think it does," I responded. "I think I will use that."
So that's what I got yesterday...
Red "you're in trouble" flowers...
And a spanking that somehow made everything better.