Friday, May 31, 2013

We laugh, because we're secure.


Yes, when I've done something I shouldn't do, I've given full consent to my loving husband to spank me.

And, no. Being spanked for punishment is not funny.

But do we ever laugh and tease?

Absolutely.

Now, it has to be said, I like me a good girl spanking. I really, really like me a good girl spanking.




I've read DD blogs that said things like, "This blog is about domestic discipline. If you've come here because you think spanking is fun, you've come to the wrong place. This is serious business."

Yeah...not here. Being punished is not fun, true. But we like to laugh and joke, and there's a time and a place for a fun spanking. Frankly, I think the fact that there is a time and place for a playful spanking make the punishment ones more effective.

There's nothing sexier than when my Jason comes up to me from behind, wraps his arms around me, and whispers, "Does somebody need a spanking?"



Oh, my. 

"Yes, please!" I melt into a puddle, and the man knows it. He's damn good at dishing out those good girl spankings, and it's so freaking hot.

But let's face it. There's something outrageous about a full grown woman over her husband's lap. 



We're adults. But we are adults who love each other to pieces. We laugh, we tease, we banter back and forth. I live for playful banter. 


The other day, we were getting ready. He was lying in bed reading, and I said something saucy, but just teasing.

"What did you say?" he asked, and I gave a big, exaggerated sigh.

"Oh, I'm just being naughty," I said, and I unceremoniously plunked myself over his lap. Deep sigh. "I guess you'll just have to spank me." With a big grin and a loud wallop, he had me giggling like a little school girl. 

Have I mentioned playful spankings are hot?

The other night I was sitting with my laptop, and Jason had a new cover for his kindle. It makes this delightful little slapping sound when he shuts it. He met my eyes across the room, lifted the cover, and let it slap. He gave me a wicked, mischievous grin, lifted the cover and let it slap again. 

I squirmed, embarrassed, bashful, and feeling a few other things. I knew exactly what he was doing. He was teasing me. I love when he teases me.

This lifestyle is challenging. It is daily work, submitting, loving, and learning.

If we can't joke and laugh with each other, we've stripped ourselves of the fiber of who we are. We've made it what we do, not who we are. 

It doesn't mean we don't take each other seriously. It actually means quite the opposite.

It means we are secure in each other. 



Thursday, May 30, 2013

Carrying Me

Why do I want this?

Why do I want you to lead me?


It's not that I want you to hurt me. 


And I hate it when I disappoint you.


But when I feel your strength, you make me feel that you've "Got me." I can trust you. You are my protector.



image from Survivortoday

It was like that day we met and you stepped up as a gentleman. I was in the middle of a nasty, menial job and you stopped me. You protected me and said, "You shouldn't have to do this. I've got it."

That was the day I began to fall in love with you.


I don't want you to hurt me. I never did. I love your gentle touch. I love your kind heart and tender spirit. I love that about you, you know. You are a real man, because you balance your strength and gentleness so well.

But when you take me in hand, and I feel that ultimate display of dominance, it cleanses me. It reaffirms your strength.


It's like when you take something heavy from my hands and tell me, "let me carry this for you."



image from dailyedge


When you lead me, I feel so secure and safe. 


I know it's not easy for you. Oh, how I know this. But you do so well. You try so hard. And I love that about you. I don't want you to think you are any less than perfect for me. You are not perfect and I am not perfect but we are perfect for each other.


Do you remember how a few weeks ago you swept me into your arms? I loved that. Being held by you.




I felt girly, and shy, and safe.

This is how I feel when you carry me with your words and actions.


When you say, "Be safe."


"I've got you."


"Don't worry about it."


"Trust me."


You lift that heavy burden. You carry me.


And I trust you.



Image from stuffpoint

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

When I don't think I deserve it

The title of this blog -- "The Taming of the Shrew" -- is not just tongue-in-cheek. My husband would not say I'm a shrew...I'm not a nag...but "the taming of the brat" would be an apt title.

One night I was irritable. I had prepared dinner while the little ankle biters destroyed the dining room and my husband surfed the web. Did I tell him I needed him? No. Did he know? No. I bottled it all up until he came to dinner and I lost it.

You know that point when you know you should stop right now but you don't? Well, I do, too.

I started in on him. He looked at me sternly and said, "Enough. Stop this now."

Did I listen? Nope.

"But I just want to --" I began.

"We are not having this conversation right now and in front of the kids. Stop it!" He commanded.

In a fit of temper, I stormed away from the table and slammed into my room, where I nursed my wounds.

I told you. Brat. 

A while later I came back down and pouted my way through the meal. 




I didn't realize he was glaring at me from across the table. When I finally did my heart stopped at the look on his face. My Jason so very rarely gets angry, that when he does, he's a force to be reckoned with. You know the look. The "You are in so much trouble" look.


"After dinner," he mouthed over the heads of our kids, "Upstairs."

At this point the silly little brat that I am thought, "Well maybe he just wants to apologize for being so unfair." Seriously.

It's okay, you can laugh at me. I cannot even believe how selfish and immature I was being!

But I realized he was still glaring at me. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were flashing. Now I started getting nervous. I started to clear the table. 

"Go upstairs." 

"Now?" I choked out.

"Now."

I fairly stomped upstairs. How could he be so unfair? It wasn't right. He was so mean! I knew when he came up I'd get a spanking, but I was still having a fit. I was still wrapped up in me.

I heard him calmly cleaning the dining room and instructing the kids to occupy themselves. I heard the clink of the dishes, and my kids following his instructions. I heard him laughing with one child, then quietly correcting another. 

I heard him being his patient, loving, steadfast self. 

And I thought, "What have I done?"

He had me wait for him for about half an hour, and in that half hour, my entire mindset changed.

I thought of my actions. And reality dawned. I had been a total brat and I so deserved a spanking.

When he came up, he was still stern, but all traces of anger were gone. 

"Where's the brush?" He barked. I pointed wordlessly to the dresser. He picked it up, then hauled me to the edge of the bed. I wordlessly stripped and got into position.

He laid that brush against me and lectured me. He'd never done this before.

"Do you know what happened when you left?" He asked quietly.

"No."

"You upset the kids. I spent the rest of the meal calming them down."

I felt tears come to my eyes. "I'm sorry."

"You should be," he said. And then in his patient voice, he said, "I know you've had a long day. I know you've been overwhelmed. I know you're tired."

I nodded, and started to cry. He is so good to me, and I had been so awful to him.

"When you need me, you tell me. But I don't ever want you to yell at me in front of the kids like that again. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," I whispered. 

"It destroys the peace in this home. It upsets the kids. And I don't want that."

"I'm sorry," I said.

He spanked me long and hard and I deserved every single smack.

When he was done, he hugged me and I told him how sorry I was. He forgave me and I was shocked to hear him say, "Now you stay up here until I bring the kids to bed."

"Ok," I said humbly. I thought he wanted to punish me further, but he later told me he wanted me to rest because I was so tired.

This is one time I thought I didn't deserve it at first, but when all was said and done I really and truly did. When I bring myself back to that mindset of trusting him, I can see what he wants of me and how I fail. His patient guidance solidified my confidence in him, and I knew I could always trust him.

Later, my bottom still stung like crazy. "That hurt a lot," I said.

"I know," he replied. "It was supposed to."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"I forgive you," he said with a smile and a hug. 

Sometimes, what I think I don't deserve is him. He's so good. But I try every day to be the good girl he deserves, and he's helping me get there.

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

For My Strong and Steady



You'll be my soft and sweet. 
I'll be your strong and steady.



You'll be my glass of wine. 
I'll be your shot of whiskey.



You'll be my sunny day. 
I'll be your shady tree.


To my Dear Husband...my strong, and steady, my shot of whiskey, my shady tree...
I love you.



from "Honey Bee," by Blake Shelton

Monday, May 27, 2013

The angel on my shoulder


I sit here writing while my kids are watching a tv show and breakfast is being prepared.

I'm disappointed. 

My husband made a promise to me, and it's clear this morning that he isn't going to fulfill that promise when I thought he would. It's not because he doesn't love me. It's not because he doesn't mean what he says. It's simply because he's tired. 

He will do what he said, just not when I thought he would.

This is hard for me. It makes me want to scream and yell and throw a fit. See? The shrew isn't tamed yet. 

I'm sometimes a good girl, but I tell Jason that sometimes that little devil on my shoulder wins the battle in my head. Today, I'm doing my level best to listen to the angel on the other shoulder. 

I need one of these t-shirts.

image courtesy of Etsy


It's far easier for me to say "yes" than to accept a "no."

"Please don't spend money like that again without asking me," he says.

I nod my head. "Yes, Jason." I will try my best to remember to obey him. This is the easier part. 

"No, you're not getting that new phone you asked me for. I have my reasons, and I'm saying no." 

That's far harder for me. 

I had expectations. I had my hopes set on what he told me he'd do. How do I get over this disappointment? I remind myself my husband isn't perfect. I remind myself of all the wonderful, amazing, good things about him. 

I self-talk. 

"He's the best father a mother could ask for. He works hard. He's responsible and diligent, and so loving to you. He gives you everything you need, if you are only patient with him. He needs his sleep now. He needs you to let him rest. Don't be selfish. Let go of what you want, and trust him."

Why punish him with a fit? He doesn't deserve my brattiness. He deserves my respect and love.

The hardest part for me is when the truly submissive thing to do is to let go of my own expectations and submit myself to his. 

It's a daily struggle. A daily walk. 

A smile instead of a frown. 

A meek "yes" when I want to scream "no!"

Making myself ask, "What will please him?" instead of, "Poor me."

Listening to the angel on my shoulder.

Submission Impossible? Not today.



"The Change" (fiction)

She sat on the bed. Remorse consumed her. Why had she spoken to him that way? She really had no idea what had come over her. She knew he expected her to speak to him respectfully. She knew he didn't deserve her fury. She knew he hated when she contradicted him in front of their family, or friends.

And she knew they'd agreed he could punish her for disobeying him if he deemed it necessary.

Before, things would've been different. They'd have gotten into an argument. She'd have lost her temper and he'd have lost his temper, and things likely would've spiraled out of control. In the past, she'd feel remorse for what she'd said or done long before he was ready to forgive her. He'd be resentful and angry, and she'd want him to get over it already and forgive her. They'd be driven apart until finally, the two of them would make amends. It could take days. Days of regret, hurt, and tension.

Not anymore. Not since they'd make the mammoth leap in trust and dynamics they'd taken four months earlier. Not since she'd said, “Yes, I want you in charge. I trust you,” and given it all over to him.

The first time he'd spanked her, it had been awful. It hadn't been the actual pain itself, though that was no walk in the park. She'd been afraid, and it had hurt far more than she'd anticipated. But her feelings of sorrow and guilt, combined with the knowledge that she'd let him down, were hard to bear.

Then something strange happened. She'd felt forgiven. There'd been no more of that awful regret and guilt consuming her. He held her in his arms and told her she was forgiven. Relief washed over her, and she felt a new sense of respect for her man. For her man, who was strong enough and manly enough to put her over his knee if he deemed it necessary. 

She heard him coming up the stairs and her heart pounded. A healthy fear for her husband was a new experience. Would he be angry? Would the spanking be worse than it had been before? Would it be bearable?

He loves you, she told herself. You know you deserve this. Trust him. It will be over soon.

Her self talk helped her as he mounted the stairs, but then all her courage fled when he pushed the door open to her bedroom. He seemed so stern. So strong. 

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, not because she was hoping to avoid punishment. She knew in her heart that it was inevitable. She apologized because she truly meant it. 

“I'm glad to hear it,” he said, as he went to the dresser where he kept her wooden hairbrush. “You should be.” His voice was calm and steady, no trace of anger. Nothing but firm resolve. Her heart pounded steadily. She heard the clink of the drawer as he pulled it open.

He stood at the foot of the bed, the dreaded hairbrush in hand. 
“Come here,” he commanded quietly. Trembling, she obeyed. She stood in front of him with her head hung in shame. He sat on the edge of the bed, then pulled her over to him. She stood between his knees, feeling a lump rise in her throat. At times like these, she felt repentant already. She hated disappointing him. Placing the brush next to him, both of his hands reached for hers. 

“You know I love you,” he began in a low murmur, and she nodded, gulping, her eyes on their hands. 

“Yes,” she whispered. 

“And you know this has to stop.” 

“Yes,” she whispered again, as a tear rolled down her cheek. 

“Look in my eyes,” he instructed. Reluctantly, she obeyed. Her heart quaked at the look in his eyes, both tender and stern at the same time.

“You know you deserve a spanking,” he began. She nodded mutely. “And I'm committed to doing what needs to be done,” he said firmly. 

Her heart pounded, and she nodded. Then his hands reached for the buttons on her jeans, and he undid them. He pushed them down and held her hand as she stepped out. 

“Now lay over my lap,” he said.

She turned, shaking, and lay so that her belly was over his knees. He positioned her, and she held her breath as she felt him pull her panties down. She felt the hard wooden brush on her bare backside.

“Why am I spanking you?” he asked sternly. She gulped, her fingers anchored on the hard wood floor in front of her.

“For talking back to you,” she whispered, as another tear escaped. 

“Did you stop when I asked you to?”

“No,” she whispered. Please, please just get this over. 

“Did I warn you?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I'm going to spank you, and I'm going to spank you hard. I don't want to have to do this again anytime soon. Lay as still as you can.” She tensed in anticipation.

“Okay,” she whispered, just wanting it all over already. And then he began. 

She gasped at the sting of the brush on her bare skin. He lifted it, and brought it down again, and again. She squirmed under the pain, involuntarily trying to escape. She felt beads of sweat on her face, and grasped his pants in her hands as he spanked her thoroughly. 

“You will not contradict me,” he scolded. “I will not have you treating me this way.” 

“Yes,” she gasped, as he continued to spank her, slowly but firmly, sharp, radiating pain consuming her. Why had she agreed to this? When would he stop? Hadn't she learned her lesson? 

“I have had enough of the rude talk and lack of respect. Things are going to change, and they're going to change now.” 

Swat. Swat. Swat. 

He never brought the brush down in the same place twice, but steadily and firmly applied it to her backside. She tried to pull away as a particularly sharp swat landed on the top of her thigh, but he held her firmly. She had no choice but to submit. To relinquish control. She thought she couldn't take anymore. Then she felt herself go within, that place of introspection and submission she reached when he spanked her. She felt relief flood over her as he placed the brush on the bed and began massaging her. 

“It's over now,” he murmured. She felt tears wash over her, tears of remorse, guilt, and shame. They coursed down her cheeks as he held her. And then he was lifting her up as she wept, and he was holding her in his arms. 

“Shhhh,” he said, “We're done now. Now we'll put this behind us.” He rocked her until her weeping quieted.

As he helped her into bed, his touch was unmistakably tender. He kissed her forehead as he pulled the blanket up over her shoulders and tucked her in. 

“I love you,” he whispered. She rested her head on his chest, his arm tucked around her. 

How could anyone say this was wrong? She'd take a firm punishment at his hands and the relief and forgiveness it brought over the guilt and fighting any day.

“I love you, too. Please forgive me.” 

“Already done, honey,” he said tenderly. 

She felt protected. She felt forgiven. 

She felt loved.

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Confessing

My husband has a strong, steadfast moral code. He will pay for the grape he swipes at the supermarket. He will always obey the speed limit. He will never remove the tag from a pillow or mattress.

Ok, I'm exaggerating, but you get the point. My husband is a moral man and I love him to pieces for it.

A dear friend asked me to do something not really technically legal. I even said not to tell Jason because I knew he wouldn't approve. (Bad girl! The shrew is being tamed!)

So, because I can't even THINK something wrong and not tell my husband, I told him. As predicted, he said, "That's lying. Don't do it." Sigh. Big (moral, sweet, good) meanie.

So I waffled a bit and kept the (stolen) files until he finally said, "If you do that again, I'll give you a spanking." Alright, alright.

But that didn't mean I couldn't tell someone else about this mildly illegal activity, if they were interested, right?

So, I did.

That night, I climbed into bed. I still remember I was wearing a sweet little outfit he adores, and we were kissing and having a bit of fun. My guilty conscience said, "tell him." So I blurted it out. He sighed and said, "hon, you know that's really stealing. It doesn't make it any more right if its someone else doing it. Please don't do it again."

I nodded, chastened. And we continued to chat and flirt. And the little voice said, "you know you knew it was wrong." So with a deep breath, I whispered, "I knew you wouldn't approve but I chose to do it anyway."

He paused. It's not always easy knowing how to tame the shrew.

Sometimes she needs mercy and sometimes she needs her ass smacked.

"Well," he said finally. "Then you need a spanking." He sat up and opened The Drawer, and took out the little paddle. I put myself over his lap and he spanked me.

I felt better.

I deleted the files. I told my friend what Jason said and she deleted them.

And I've never stolen books again. And I always pay for grapes I swipe at the supermarket.

This Is why I confess to my husband. I want nothing between him and me, ever. He wants me to be good and honest and loving, and he does his very best to be good and honest and loving himself.

If he is going to make every effort to be good, and I'm going to learn to be the good girl he desires me to be, I need to stand before him in honesty and humility.

And when he leans down to me and kisses me and says, "you're my good girl and I'm proud of you," I know he means it.

The First Time

Now it has to be understood that the first time my husband spanked me "for real," we'd been playing hanky spanky games for a while. So being brought over my husband's knee for a spanking wasn't new to me. What WAS new to me was being punished for something I did. Whoa. Entirely different mentality! This is why when someone says "well how is it punishment if you like it?" I think, oh there's a difference alright. Oh, it is punishment. 

The mentality of the submissive partner Is the biggest difference. I've had erotic spankings that  hurt more and lasted longer than some punishments I've gotten. Erotic spanking turns me on. Punishment does not (though sometimes the dominating and loving manner of my husband is arousing later.)

So one day he told me he expected me to obey him. I fairly scoffed at the idea of him really punishing me. Was I a kid or something? Surely he couldn't really even do it with a straight face, right?


Wrong.


We were in our bedroom, getting ready for the day and I was telling him how I was struggling meeting a goal of mine. Whilst getting dressed, he said, "Seems like you've been struggling with this for a long time. Maybe if you don't do what you should, I should give you a real spanking. Maybe that will help you do what you need to." 


I looked at him in shock. Did he just say what I thought he said? 


So in the tradition of the spanking-threatened female, I laughed. "You wouldn't!"


Imagine this is me. This is the look I'm giving him. He says I look like her, so here's a pic for blogland. 



"I'm serious," he said.


"I don't believe you!" I said, still completely incredulous. I leaned over to pick something up from the bed. 


Dear readers, learn from my mistake. If your loving husband says he'll spank you, don't question his sincerity if the man has a belt in his hand. 

He stepped over to me, gave me a hard swat that had me squealing and grabbing at my rear end, and said, "Oh, believe me. I'm serious." He leaned me over and landed a few more with his belt to show me he meant business. 


I was still kind of giggling at this point, but a little in awe. Did he really just threaten to spank me?


On the way to his work, I asked him about ninety times, "Are you serious?" and he'd just calmly say, "Of course I am. You need help with this. I want to help. If you mess up again, expect a spanking."


Now hanky spanky games were thoroughly enjoyable. But the thought of my sweet husband standing up to me and giving me a real spanking? I was in awe of him and more than a little impressed.


And yet, I chose to disobey him. Yep, there's a reason why there's a shrew being tamed here.


Feeling somewhat guilty, but mostly seriously thinking he would never follow through, I told him I disobeyed him. Without batting an eyelash, he got his belt and instructed me to put myself over his lap.


I remember flushing madly and not wanting to do it.


I said something like, "Are you serious?" 


And with a no-nonsense expression, he said something like, "Yes. Do it."


So...I did. I'd only gotten a few swats with the belt, the day he threatened to spank me, and given me a bit of a taste. 


I was kinda terrified.

He told me he was going to give me ten swats and I was to count each one out loud. Another first! So I did..and he spanked me...and when he was done, I stood myself up, mortified and repentant, and promised I'd be good. He gave me a bit of a lecture and I don't remember what he said but I know I was thinking that I'd never do anything wrong for the rest of my life, or something along those lines. It was far from the worst spanking I'd ever gotten, but the memory has stayed with me.


I think back on it with tenderness, if you can believe it.


It was a step along the way. One step towards him embracing his role as my Dominant partner. One step towards me embracing my role as his Submissive. He wasn't angry. He was only motivated by love of me.


I found new respect for my husband. I realized how badly I wanted to please him.


And thus began our journey.

This blog

I love to write. I think by writing. I process by writing. I share by writing.

This is just a little blog where I'll put my thoughts and my questions. I will share my real life experience and my stories.

It will be about Domestic Discipline.

It will be about Dominance and Submission.

It will be about love, and marriage, and what happens along the way. I hope you enjoy reading and thanks for stopping by.