Friday, November 14, 2014
A different kind of hunger
Early on in our dynamic, I longed to feel Jason's dominance.
I was asked fairly recently by a reader why it is that oftentimes submissives need more and more, as things progress. I explained that for me, and I suspect possibly for others as well, things were different when we began than they are now, two years later. Although Jason has always been the dominant partner, I did not have rules, and he did not punish me. He didn't understand me as well, nor I him. We didn't spend nearly the amount of time with each other, and we certainly didn't revel in each other as we do now.
I had no idea I had a thirst for his dominance. I had no idea I craved his discipline. And when we began, it was like my hunger was awakened. That first taste had me craving more, and more. The more I tasted what I longed for, the hungrier I became.
Over time, though, that has changed. I worried initially – and so did he – that my hunger would never be sated. It seemed like he could never spank me long enough, or hard enough, or often enough. He feared hurting me. I feared I would never be content. But that hunger did subside. Though I still have a deep longing to submit to him, and to be dominated by him, he knows what I need and meets those needs in spades. Simply put, my hunger is usually completely satisfied and if it isn't, I never have to wait long. He knows my needs (as I know his -- different, but varied), and he tends to them.
So early on, if he granted me mercy, I wouldn't see it as such. I disliked that he did. It left me feeling hurt (does he not care?), uneasy (is he ever going to spank me again?), and unsettled (doesn't he realize I need this?).
But that isn't the way things are anymore. Now, he is very firm. I feel his expectations for me are very high. I find him fair, but very strict. As I mentioned recently in another post, I do not get second chances, or warnings.
However, he occasionally weighs all circumstances and grants me mercy. This happened recently.
The incident involved a rule that I have with my phone. I now have restrictions on my online time and my phone, when and how I can use them, and what must be done first. I'm not allowed to be on my phone or the computer when I have more important priorities or tasks to be done. Now, he hadn't really clarified his expectations, and the rule was somewhat ambiguous. Although I understood his basic reasoning, I wasn't exactly sure which things I needed to have done first, and I had a more liberal idea of this than he did.
So, feeling a bit guilty, but still not exactly sure that I was disobeying him, I used my phone when I really shouldn't have. I decided I would explain what happened, and ask for clarification on his expectations when he came home so I would do better. For some reason, I never really entertained the thought that I would be in trouble. I didn't think I really had broken the rule. So goes the justification sometimes... I thought when he'd come home, he'd clarify his expectations.
That's not exactly what happened.
When he came home, we had our talk that we always have. I usually kneel, my forearms resting on his legs, as we talk about our day. He listens, and we may talk about things that came up, or how we're going to spend our evening. But he always begins our nightly check-in with the same basic question. And that night was no exception.
A finger under my chin, he lifted my eyes to his and asked, “Were you a good girl today?”
I squirmed, knowing I had to discuss the phone issue with him. I blurted it all out, that I knew what his expectations were, what I did and why, and I asked him to please clarify exactly what it is that he expected of me. Still, I hadn't really expected that I would get in trouble.
He frowned, that steely glint coming into his blue eyes. “You know what I expect from you.”
I nodded. “Well, yes, I do, but I--”
"Did I, or did I not, tell you to make sure you did what you were supposed to before you got distracted with your phone?"
"Well, yes. You did," I responded, justification flying out the window, my stomach sinking.
“Then you disobeyed me.” I quaked at the look he was giving me.
“I didn't mean to,” I whispered. “Please don't punish me,” I asked, twisting my hands and looking down, not able to make eye contact. I don't like that sometimes I ask him not to punish me. I wish I had the courage to face him when I'm in trouble, but I sometimes I don't.
“Look at me.” I'm not supposed to break eye contact with him when he's talking to me. He wants to be able to read me.
I obeyed, looking back at him. I felt a lump rise in my throat and tears glistening in my eyes. I swallowed.
“Go get the brush,” he commanded.
I rose, shuffling over to where our implements are hidden, and as I retrieved the dreaded brush (I really, truly despise that thing), I couldn't keep it in any longer. The tears began.
I handed him the brush, and as he prepared to punish me, and I lay over his lap, he asked me the question I dread.
“How many do you think you deserve?” he asked sternly. It's not a question up for debate. No, that's not at all why he does it. It's absolutely not a decision made by committee vote. He asks me to make me think about what I've done.
“I...it's up to you,” I answered, knowing now that I should've paid closer attention to what he said to me, squirming, knowing Jason does not take punishment lightly, and also knowing he wouldn't let me get away without answering, I suggested what I thought was a fair, though serious, number.
He paused. “Why are you crying?” he asked.
I lay over his lap, sniffling quietly into the bed. I didn't really know why I was crying. It was a whole bunch of things all at once. I hadn't really meant to disobey him. I know it sounds like an excuse, but I know what I did and why. I hate letting him down, and it grieves me to do something worthy of punishment. I want to please him.
Not knowing how to answer him, trying to be brave and accept my punishment, I lay as still as I could over his lap while I answered, “Because I don't want to be punished.” Maybe not the best answer, but it was truthful. I didn't.
Without another word, he gave me a handful of sharp swats. Then he surprised me by putting the brush on the bed. “This is over,” he said. “Come here.”
He pulled me up off his lap and into his arms, as I continued to cry, overcome with emotion. He put his thumb on my cheek and brushed the tears away.
“This is what I'm aiming for when I punish you,” he said softly, the sternness gone now. “I want to see you repent. I want to know you're sorry for what you've done and you won't do it again.”
He held me as he continued to wipe my tears away.
“Shhh, now,” he said. “You were already there before I punished you. You were a good girl, ready to take your punishment. So this is over now.” I nodded, so very grateful for his mercy, so very grateful for being understood.
He lifted my chin and had me look at him again. “Do I want this happening again?” he asked, stern again, while I shook my head.
“Oh, no sir, it won't, I promise I'll be so good, I won't disobey you.”
And I haven't. Now I know exactly what he expects, and I'm very careful not to stray. When in doubt, I ask him.
You see, in the beginning, I hungered for his dominance and discipline. And as I've said, that hunger has abated. But I have a new hunger now. As we've moved into a satisfying place of knowing our roles, of meeting each other's needs, of learning together as we meet those needs, daily striving to be more loving, more giving, growing closer and closer together...I long for something else.
Now, I yearn to be his good girl. Now, that gnawing hunger is to please him. I don't always, and he knows that, but I love that he can read my heart, and he knows where my heart lies... my heart is in his hands, his girl forever.
And really, isn't that what this is all about?
Posted by J Girl