The Pursuit of Harmony

Recently, I mentioned to a d/s acquaintance of mine that Jason and I had gotten into an argument. I told her, “I should blog about this. I write a lot about positive things, but forget to share the negative things as well.” 

And, I promptly forgot that I was going to blog about it. Those moments are fleeting, and it's easy to move on to the fun stuff. 

Arguing is very rare. But it still happens. Sometimes he says things he shouldn't and sometimes I say things I shouldn't. Misunderstandings happen. Feelings get hurt. Outside stresses put pressure on our relationship. And no, there are no arguments like there used to be, but still, things come up.

We got into an argument a few weeks ago. He was grumpy, and irritable, and snapped at me over something. It's rare he speaks so harshly to me. I had a few choices. I could've snapped back. And in the moment, maybe that would've felt good. But we do have a rule that's very strictly enforced, that if I'm rude or disrespectful to him, I will be punished. Even if I'm provoked, the disrespect isn't tolerated. 

Now, maybe that doesn't seem fair. But what are the alternatives? 

One alternative is that if Jason is the one at fault, I could punish him. Though I respect that particular method applies to some people, it does not work for us. Neither he nor I have the slightest desire for me to have the authority to punish him. 

Hmmm. So, option two. He could decide that since we were both at fault, I shouldn't be punished. He's done this before, and although I respect that, I usually end up feeling quite awful after having disrespected him. And he hasn't taken that approach in quite some time, now that his expectation for my respect, obedience and submission to him are so very high. I'm not allowed even the slightest form of disrespect. 

And I love that I'm not. 

Is it strict? Yes. But I'm attracted to Jason's authority over me, and because of that, it works so much better that he enforce strict expectations regarding my submission to him. We both much prefer it this way. 

So on this particular day, my response to him was to grow very quiet. That was something I had to learn. Responding by being quiet when I'm upset isn't something that comes naturally to me. But it's very rare that Jason is irritable or impatient with me. What happened in this situation, is that I'd had a different expectation regarding what we were doing that afternoon, and he snapped that we weren't doing that at all. At first, I didn't say anything to him. Then I simply said, “Okay. I understand. I just need a minute to adjust my expectations, please.” He kind of growled and glared – oh, what a bear when he's angry! But thankfully, I stayed in my submissive place. 

And that was the extent of our argument. We disagreed. And this time, I was able to keep my cool. Because I maintained an attitude of submission, it was very shortly after that he called me to him, and he apologized. 

It doesn't always happen that way, though. 

More recently, I said something that upset him. I was feeling overwhelmed and stressed, and made an offhand comment about his parents. I shouldn't have, I know, but let's be honest – people don't make in-law jokes for nothing. They can be stressful relationships. And when it's a real serious issue, Jason always goes to bat for me and removes that stress, but sometimes, I let the little things bother me. This was one of those times. 

He snapped back at me, a reactionary comeback that cut me. It's so rare he treats me that way. And I was hurt. So without even thinking, I snapped back at him, muttered swear words and all. Lovely. 

We were both angry. The moment was quite heated. He wanted to talk it out, and I didn't want to. I asked him to leave me alone. We were driving at the time, and we both sort of simmered. We managed to keep our voices low and no one yelled, but after the initial hurtful comments, nothing more was said. He explained to me why he was upset, while I nursed my wounds and quietly said not much of anything. 

I did my very best to self talk. “He never speaks to you like this. You shouldn't have said that and hurt him. Just be quiet and don't let this fester. Let this go and don't let it ruin your day.” 

And I managed to mostly calm my hurt. But when we got home, Jason gave me “the look,” and the very first thing he said was, “I want you upstairs, now.” 

I obeyed, truly wanting this argument to end and be behind us. And even if I didn't, I know better than to push when he instructs me like that. 

The very first thing he did when he brought me upstairs was point to the floor. I dropped to my knees in front of him. This is how we do things. He instructs, I kneel, and we're both immediately in our places. 

“I'm sorry,” he said. That was all I needed. He knew he'd snapped at me. And it was so easy to forgive him. 

“It's okay," I said. "I know why you said what you did. And I'm sorry, too,” I responded. We talked it out.

“You know you're not allowed to swear and speak disrespectfully to me,” he said. I nodded. He patted his lap. I stood, and he swiftly bared me and positioned me over his knee. I closed my eyes and crossed my legs and took the spanking I knew I deserved. And moments later, it was behind us. He hugged me, I held on tight, and we moved on with our day. We didn't say another word about it. There were no more hurt feelings. There was no more anger. I felt put back in my submissive place, and when I'm there, I feel at peace, and ready to follow his lead. 

It's tricky when there's one person in authority over another. It's tricky knowing how to proceed. Here, Jason expects me to be respectful and obedient no matter what the circumstances. And he also is humble enough to admit fault when the situation warrants it. But allowing me to be disrespectful or rude when we have a disagreement simply doesn't fly. 

Do we still argue? We do. It's not often, but things still happen that cause occasional stress. However, DD has given us the tools to make those moments rare -- the tools to keep communication open and frequent, and when things go awry, a quick solution that gets us back to harmony in the relationship. 

'Twas the Night of a Spanking

Time for a re-run! Merry Christmas lovely readers! I'm taking this weekend off and will post next week. 



A Spanko Christmas Tale


'Twas the night of a spanking

And all through the house,

Not a laptop was stirring,

Not even a mouse.

The phones were shut off

No t.v. did blare,

She knew for a spanking,

Soon she'd be bare.

When deep in the room,

There arose such a clatter!

Her husband came running

To see what was the matter!

She sheepishly stood

With her hairbrush in hand,

Pretending to brush

Her long, golden strands.

He narrowed his eyes,

And sauntered quite close,

For what did he spy,

Tucked under her clothes?

The paddle, the strap,

The cane, and the switch!

His arms, they did flex.

His palms, they did twitch.

"You thought you could hide them?"

He asked with a chuckle.

She giggled, then cringed

As he reached for his buckle.

"Forgot about that,"

She said, as she tried

To sneak out the door

To save her poor hide.

"Over the bed!" he said, 

As he caught

Her elbow with ease,

And landed a swat.

"Nice try there, young lady,"

He laughed with a push.

As he gleefully eyed

Her cute little tush.

"You're lucky you're cute,"

He said, as she felt

The first stinging swat

Of his thick leather belt.

She yelped, and she squirmed,

But it helped not at all.

Her Caveman, he held her,

That belt, it did fall.

When finally done,

He held her quite near.

Secure in his arms,

She had nothing to fear.

"Don't try it again," 

He said with a hug.

But she eyed the frayed edge

Of their ivory shag rug.

"I won't! I'll be good!"

She ventured to say.

For the rest of the night 

She thought, just today.

"Yeah, right, baby girl,"

He said with a kiss.

He well knew the mind

Of his sweet little miss.

Dom-speak

Haven't done a fun/sexy post in a while, and a reader requested this. So it was fun to jot down these things Jason has said recently. 

"Poor girl has a headache. Come here, baby. I know how I can take your mind off that pain."

"Every time you sit over the next few days, you will remember how I expect you to speak to me." 

"Present yourself to me."

"I love you too much to allow you to behave that way." 

"If you're naughty, you'll get a spanking. If you're good...you'll get a spanking." 
I'm coming from a shower and tease him with my wet towel, snapping at the air in front of him. I'm not foolish enough to actually hit him. "Look what I can do with my towel," I say teasingly. He raises an eyebrow. "Look what I can do with my belt."




"I want you sore so you know I love you."

"Naughty girls get punished. Good girls get rewarded."

"We have a little matter to attend to. Come here, NOW."

"I want to see you upstairs."

"Is that right, young lady? Do you have anything else to say for yourself before I paddle you?"

"You know I have to spank you for that."

"Take 'em off." 

"What happens to little girls who don't remember their place?"

"Over my knee now."


"Of course it hurts. It's a spanking, not an ice cream sundae."

"Don't. Move."

If you enjoyed this post, you may want to head on over to my friend Joli's page, where she wrote a very similar post recently! HOH Sayings

Ohhhh, Oh Mercy Mercy Me...

On Thanksgiving, I was more than a little stressed because we were hosting. In many ways, I prefer hosting. It's easier than carting the kids all over the place, and I like being in the comfort of my own home. But I'm introverted, and get stressed by social situations. I was pretty wound up, and Jason and I were alone in the car, going to pick up his father. I was telling him about a new recipe I tried. 

“Don't tell my mom,” he commented wryly. “If it's new, she will make up her mind she won't like it.” 

Now, you'd think I'd know by now, the difference between a suggestion and an instruction. At this point, I truly heard what he said as a suggestion.

He had a point. And I thought it was a good point. And I don't exactly remember how it happened. I think one of my kids brought it up, but in any event I didn't take Jason's advice. I told her about the new recipe.

And sure enough, there were disastrous results. 

Later that evening, when we were alone again, debriefing from the day, I commented, “I should've listened to you,” and told him what happened. He grew quiet and stern. 

“I thought I told you not to say anything.” 

I was taken aback. I'd truly viewed his comment as a suggestion, not an instruction. 

“Oh,” I said. “Yes, and it probably would've been best if I'd done exactly that.” 

But by now, he was being quite stern. “Are you supposed to obey me?” He asked. I sensed the shift in our conversation. It was no longer conversational. His tone had become scolding. 

“I am,” I said in a small voice. I was surprised he was being so stern and began to grow worried. “Are you going to spank me for this?” 

“Yes,” he said. “You're supposed to do as you're told.” 

I said no more at that point. We were nearing home, and I was fighting a variety of emotions.

When Jason and I were new to this, the realization that I would be punished was both arousing and even a bit exciting, even if I didn't like disappointing him. His authority is attractive to me, and before we really embraced this lifestyle, I was heavily drawn to the idea of consistent discipline. 

Things are quite different now. There is no doubt that if he decides I need to be punished, he will punish me. And three years into this, I have a very strong dislike of any type of correction from him, even a small reprimand. I aim to please him. The knowledge that I'm going to be punished makes me sad. He takes disciplinary spankings seriously and I don't enjoy them one bit. 

So when we got home, I had a heaviness about me, knowing I'd be punished. But those weren't the only feelings I was fighting. I really hadn't meant to disobey him. It had been such a long day. I was weary, and unsettled, and I was unhappy about the punishment I had looming over me. As the day wound down, I went up to where Jason was alone. I didn't say anything, simply began to get ready for bed. I wasn't moping or dismal, but a bit withdrawn. 

“You look sad,” he said. “Are you sad because you know I'm going to punish you?” 

I nodded. “May I talk to you?” I asked quietly. He gestured for me to come over. 

I snuggled up to him. 

“I just want to tell you how I feel,” I said quietly. He waited. 

I took a deep breath and spilled all. 

“When you said what you did earlier, I really took it as a suggestion, not an instruction,” I explained. “Honestly, if I thought for a minute that you were giving me an instruction, I would have obeyed you. I'll admit, when I talked to your mom, I felt a twinge of guilt. I thought maybe it wasn't the best thing to do, but I didn't see it as disobedient. I'm not sure I feel right about being punished for this. You know I want to please you. But I didn't mean to disobey you.” 

He put his finger under my chin, and looked at me. He wasn't stern anymore, but very gentle. “And you think it's best I grant you mercy this time?” 

I nodded. “I do.  But after having said all that, I've told you how I feel and I trust you. I'm not trying to talk my way out of punishment, but just tell you where my head is. And if you decide that I should still be punished, I'll take my punishment.” 

He held me close. “I'm not going to punish you this time,” he said. “And I have to tell you, I'm proud of you. It took a lot for you to come up here and tell me all this. And that makes me proud.” 

And I began to cry. 

“Why are you crying, baby?” he said. “Don't cry. You're not in trouble.” 

And I sniffled all over him that I love him, and I want to please him, and I really do hate getting into trouble, and that I was sorry that I hadn't listened to him. 

“See, this is why I don't need to punish you,” he said. “You're already sorry. Now we'll put this behind us. Just stay with me until you feel better, and we'll say no more about this.” 

And I did. I finished my sniffling, and I felt lighter. Understood. Cherished. 

And despite the fact that I hadn't been punished, I felt more determined than ever to obey him. 

Sometimes the extension of mercy is every bit as effective as a harsher chastisement. 

Will You Be My Dom Forever?

It's early morning and we're having a deliciously lazy check-in. I'm laying in bed with Jason, snuggled up on his chest, and his fingers are entwined with mine. I look up at him. I've been feeling contemplative lately. 

“Will you always be my Dom?” I ask him. 

He smiles, and nods. “Yes.” 

“Even when we're old and gray and hobbling around?” 

“Yes, baby, even then," he says with a smile.

“Even when I don't need to be spanked anymore?” 

He gives me a wry smile. “Oh, you're always gonna need to be spanked.” 

I give him a mock-affronted look. “Maybe not always.” 

He raises a brow. “No, you'll always need to be spanked.” 

"Even when you are hobbling around on a cane?" I frown, though he knows I'm not at all upset. "You'll find a use for that cane, even then," I mutter.

He chuckles. "Yup."

“Well, maybe so. I think even when we're old, and I'm perfectly well behaved, you'll still be my Dom, even then.” 

“Yes, baby. You'll always be submissive to me.”  

“Always?” 

“Yes, always.” 

The time will come when our children will be grown. And I'm not sure how that will change things, when my stress is lower and my need to be dommed may not be so high. Will his need to Dom me be as high? For all I know, they'll be higher. And I've asked myself, will he still want this then? 

His insistence that he will is somehow reassuring, because when he says he will always be my Dom, this is what I hear. 

I will always be here for you. 

I will always protect you. 

I will always take care of you, and you can always depend on me.

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I Need You To Dom Me

When we were first beginning, my needs to feel Jason's strength were damn near insatiable. I would read things online, or imagine how things would be, and I knew I wanted it. 

He always has been the Dominant partner here, so there was no major shift in how we related to one another when we began the D/S journey, other than both of us more thoroughly embracing those roles. But we had very few rules in the beginning. Jason said things like, “But you're such a good girl. Why would I spank you?” 

He had lower expectations for me then...and that was how things were supposed to be, as we asked ourselves what we wanted from this, and worked through them. Gradually, he would add something to “the list.” It's what I call “the theoretical list of spankable offenses.” As our dynamic grew, so did his expectations for me. 

But when we were just beginning, I would feel so needy. I would want to feel him. And I would say, “I need you to Dom me.” 

Over and over again, he would say, “I have no idea what you're talking about. What does that even mean, I want you to Dom me?”

So over time, I found some ways to communicate that need more effectively. When he did “Dom me” I would thank him, or show him in so many other ways exactly how grateful I was. 

I like it when you overpower me. 

Phew is that sexy. I love it when he holds my hands up over my head while we make love, or commanding me to stay in position. I love it when he wraps his hand in my hair and pulls, and I feel the tug all the way down my spine. I like when he's over me, or on top of me, or he pins me up against a wall. That tiny prickle of fear is erotic, because I know he would never hurt me and I'm his. I love when he picks me up and pulls me over his lap. I love the feeling of knowing he's stronger than I am. He will take what's his, he doesn't ask, and I love that.

I like it when you tell me what to do. 

I like it when he asserts himself over me. When he tells me to go to bed, or to drive carefully, or to make sure I do what I need to, I feel that I am important to him. 

Now, sometimes, I rail against that. Sometimes I want my own way. But I love that he will take the time to ensure my wellbeing. It means I am important to him.

I like it when you help me stay on track. 

It's easy to neglect my own self care. I'm better about it now than I used to be, but he has rules for me that help me. They're like guard rails on a highway, boundaries that comfort, and I feel safe knowing I cannot stray. Sometimes I am in a place of emotionally spiraling, and his stern, “That's enough,” is all I need. 

The other night, I got a spanking for losing my temper. It wasn't an awful spanking, more of a reminder than anything, but I was so very tired from a long day. He took me over his knee, spanked me quickly and firmly, and sent me to bed. I needed this. I was so exhausted. I fell asleep, and woke with a clearer focus, thankful he didn't let me derail.

I like it when you take control. 

Balm to the soul. Calm to the mind of the submissive. When he steps in and sets things to right. It could be so very simple, and it's taken years to train myself in accepting even the simplest of his wishes. Even now sometimes I resist. My fears come into play. 

Last week, we went out with friends and had dinner. It was an expensive night, and Jason had budgeted for it and he pays the bills. He's very much on top of the situation and I love that he is, because I hate dealing with money. Later, we were snuggling in bed and I mentioned the meal. “Was it very expensive?” I asked. He merely smiled and said, “Is that something you need to worry about?” I told him no, and it brought peace to me to put it right out of my mind again. 

I like it when you make me focus on you. 

He expects me to come to him immediately when he calls me. He will make me put down what I'm doing and come sit between his feet, or kneel by the bed. A finger under the chin or even lightly holding the chin to maintain eye contact is a very dominant move he uses often, and I love that. I feel like I'm precious to him. It's a subtle reminder of my submission to him. When he talks to me, he demands my undivided attention. 

I recently was in the kitchen, focused on a million things at once, and he came in the room. Leaning up against the counter, he grabs me and pulls me over. My mind is racing, but then...ahhhh. He's over me, I'm under his spell, and he's whispering things in my ear. Yes, this. He often puts his hand on my neck, when we're out or about, a quick touch that I find erotic and calming all at once.

I like it when you call me your good girl

Jason will text me throughout the day and ask if I've done what he's left for me. If I have, I will often get a, “that's my good girl,” response. I melt with “good girl.” But there are other things he calls me, too. My all-time favorite, that's mostly used when he's tucking me in at night, is “little one.” “Sleep well, little one,” is simply lovely. But even a brief text when I'm out with friends, “How's my baby girl?” makes me feel special to him. The coveted “good girl” has to be earned, so it reminds me of my obedience to him when he uses it. 

I lke it when you make me obey you. 

In theory, I want to obey him. I'm attracted to his authority over me, so deeply I crave it. But I need to know he expects me to obey him. I need to know he'll discipline me if I don't. Even though I don't like to be punished, it's far worse if he allows an infraction to go unpunished, because my obedience to him is crucial. If I'm allowed to disobey him, or disrespect him, a vital part of how we relate is missing. The simple words, “Am I clear on what I expect?” or “Do you understand me?” or “Do I need to take you across my knee?” reassures and brings me back to center. And when I don't meet his expectations? I need to know he will hold me accountable. 

What does it mean when I say “I like it when you Dom me?” It's an elusive phrase, and means different things to different people. These are some ways I appreciate Jason "domming" me. What are some of yours?

I am His.

I hang up the phone. 

I hate the phone call I just had. It was brief, but painful, another issue with a family member that is an ongoing problem. It's such a problem, that I'm not allowed to call this person without asking permission first because Jason prefers to be with me when I call. He's protective like that, and I love that he is. 

But I had permission. I just needed to ask her a quick question. I was going about my day, doing what I had to do, and I picked up the phone and called. It was just a simple question. And just like that, a few sentences later, I'm hurt, the severity of the words she had for me dredging up my own struggles of rejection, reminders of my past, and the hurt that will just keep on hurting. 

“I wish I could heal from this,” I say to my friend later that day. “I just wish the wounds would scar already.” 

“How could they?” she said, “When they keep reopening?” 

Jason is at work, and occupied. I send him a text and he gives me all he can in the moment, “I'm sorry, baby.” 

My sister is waiting for me to call her. I take a breath, take my phone to a private place, where my kids can't hear me, and without planning to, I spill my guts to my sister. I cry. I apologize that I'm a weeping mess, as I'm helpless to hold it in any longer and I break down. “Let it out,” she says. She knows. I don't have to explain a thing. She's right there in this with me. After I cry, and tell her, “God, I miss dad,” and we cry together on the phone, remembering the way his voice would welcome us, and I remember with tear-filled clarity the day he told me how proud I made him.

But after I text my friend, and talk to my sister, the pain is dulled but I'm still aching inside. 

I need Jason. 

“What would you do if you didn't have him?” I ask myself, the ever-present question that plagues me, the struggle I have in building this life together, this daily, constant, pulsing, symbiotic relationship in which we both meet one another's needs so fully. 

I crave him. His husky, “Morning, gorgeous,” when I bring him his morning coffee. “C'mere,” he says, sleep-drugged whispered in the darkness of our bedroom, pulling me close, his hands in my hair, pulling my head down to his chest, still warm from sleep, as his whiskery kiss flutters on my forehead. “I need to feel you,” he says. He wants me near when he wakes. 

I crave our morning routine, when he's dressed in crisp work clothes, me on my knees before him as he goes over my day ahead, approves of my list and orders my plan of the day, reminds me of my obedience to him, and pulls me over his lap to remind me of my place as his submissive, ending with the solid reminder of who I belong to when he snaps my bracelet on my wrist. 

I crave his texts throughout the day, our evening check-in, his voice on the phone, the way he randomly sings eighties rock tunes when we drive in the car, and cranks them up, playfully smacking my fingers if I go to change the station (which I do just to annoy him, not because I don't like his music.) 

I crave his sternness. The look he gives me when he wants to know I'm paying attention. The firm, “Time for bed, little girl,” I get when I want just one more minute of reading before bed, and he points to the bedside table for my phone to go down for the night. Yes, even the way he opens his desk drawer and removes his favored implement, the quiet but oh-so-effective rod he wields expertly to keep me in place, teach me to obey, ease my stress, and remind me who I belong to every time I sit down. 

But right now, I just want him. Right now, I need him. 

I do what I need to do, stay focused, and remind myself that yes, if he wasn't here anymore, I'd be okay. I'd manage. But today, I do have him. Today, he's coming home to me. 

And he does. He holds my hand as he listens to the kids and does what he needs to do. He sings his eighties rock. He hands me a little piece of chocolate he's picked up for me at work and I practically squeal like a little girl. And when he's done what he needs to do, he calls me upstairs. 

“Come here,” he orders. I go to him and kneel and bury my head on his chest. He pulls me in. “You need this,” he said. “Before we do anything else tonight, I know you need this.” I nod. And I don't say much. I don't shed the tears I did earlier, because I don't need to now. I tell him in very few words I'm hurting, and he says he understands. He tells me tonight we'll spend some time alone, and reminds me of the very very fun time we had the night before. I giggle, shy but pleased to share the memory with him. 

And then he's asking me if there's anything I need to tell him. Any rules broken? Did my list get done? Did I focus on what I was supposed to do? I did focus, I did get it done, and he pulls me in with the coveted “good girl” as my reward. And this is how he does it, how he's giving me what I need. The support that I crave. The understanding and comfort. The reminder of my role and his, the ever-present authority over me that comforts. The intimacy and companionship. 

We go about our evening. As I type this, preparing to edit and publish in the morning, he's with our children in another room. They're finishing their movie, and then we'll have our bedtime routines. But when the quiet has settled, he'll call me to him. He's already said he will. He will lay down in bed and pull me up on his chest. I'll rest in the knowledge that it's all okay. That the world will rail against me, and hurt will bring me down. The days will be long, and some days will be hard. But he's got me. I'm precious to him. He loves me, and I am his.

Show Him You Want Him

Recently, a blog reader and friend of mine wrote and asked me a question. I hemmed and hawed and thought about how to answer her. It wasn't the first time I've been asked a similar question. In fact, in my experience, her question is a very common struggle for many of us who consider ourselves submissive. After thinking it over, I asked her if it was okay if I took her question and my personal response to the blog. She willingly obliged. So here goes. I'd love it if others chimed in with advice as well. 

I know most men like to take the lead and be the one in control. But I have found that although my husband is very dominant and prefers it that way, he has desires that I am struggling to fulfill. Mostly I think it is because of my lack of confidence. But I also think it is the difficulty to balance the submissive part and the sexual part (where he wants me to initiate sex sometimes). I have realized that sometimes he wants me to want him, take him and show him how strongly I desire him. I find it hard to take the lead in the bedroom but still make him the boss at the same time. And that is what he wants. I know for some women this is not a problem at all. But for me it is hard to be the hunter. It is as if I take the easy way out of being submissive in the bedroom and let him take the lead all the time, when really pleasing him is also part of being submissive. I guess I am asking for practical advice to fulfill his needs, where to start and what to keep in mind. 

This is really an excellent question. For those especially beginning the submissive journey, it may seem that the best way to be submissive in bed is to allow anything to happen that he wishes to happen. To not turn him away, be receptive to his love-making and advances. To do whatever he tells you. 

And sure, maybe some of that may be part of a d/s couple's intimacy. I can say for sure that I don't turn Jason away, even when he wakes me in the middle of the night (not an uncommon occurance). I promise, it's, um...not a hardship. Ahem. 

If he wants me to try something, I'm game. He wants me on my knees, I'm there. And of course I love it when he does things like restrains my hands, commands me into a certain position, and ultimately controls every moment of our love-making. Love this. 

But he's human, too, and even though he's my Dom, and I his submissive, Jason wants to feel desired. He loves that I submit to him in bed – I daresay, it's one of the aspects of our dynamic he likes best. Ha! But being receptive to him isn't the only way I can submit to him. There is a way to make him feel desired...to feed his own needs to feel loved, and appreciated, and attractive. I can initiate with him as well. 

Now, before I get into more details about this, I want to be clear that I don't expect that what Jason wants is necessarily what every dominant male wants. I can imagine some Doms prefer to always initiate. They may dislike initiation from their submissive, and may even forbid it. This is one of those areas in which open communication and honesty is essential. 

How can I pursue intimacy...and show him I really want him, crave him even...while maintaining my submissive role? Simply put, I need to be willing to follow his lead, even when his lead is difficult to follow.  I need to remember to be respectful. I can be playful without being pushy. My pursuit of him in bed in no way impacts the fact that he's in charge and I obey him. Allow me to explain. 

Let's say it's late at night, and I'm laying next to him. The kids are asleep and the house is quiet. I really would love to have some time together with him. I could lean over and snuggle up to him and wrap my legs around his. If he's doing something – say, reading, or watching a show – maybe I'll ask him, “May I please have your attention for a minute?” (remembering that the phrase "may I" immediately recalls to mind both our roles). But in my heart, I need to be prepared for him to say no. Maybe he'll say, “I'm right in the middle of something and need you to be patient. Not now.” He might even say, “It's past your bedtime and I'd prefer you to wait for the morning.” There are a few choices I have in how I respond. I could pout, or push, or pull away and feel resentful. Or I could accept his answer, already having prepared myself for whatever his answer may be. Because he is the leader, and I follow his lead. 

Now, most of the time Jason wouldn't turn me away, send me to bed, or deny my request for his time. But it's not an impossibility. 

So let's say he does put down what he's doing. Maybe he puts his arm around me and pulls me close. Maybe he notices I'm...ahem...scantilly clad, or, even better...wearing even less. He might get “that look” in his eyes and one thing leads to another. But he might not. He might look at the time and say, “I really don't think we have time for this,” or “This is a great idea, but I'm just not up for it tonight, honey.” Ouch. It stings, but I'm his submissive. So I have to respectfully, politely, accept his answer. 

I haven't always done this very well. Yep. I've been spanked for having a fit about no sex. Good one, huh? 

I'm better about it now, though. Now, when I pursue and he denies...which isn't the norm, but again, still happens...I accept whatever he tells me. And it doesn't hurt like it used to. 

So the acceptance of his response is crucial to the submissive mindset. If we are obeying, then we are obeying even when we don't want to. 

But let's say he is interested. He's put his movie or book down, he's noticed my appealing lack of clothing, and now he's ready for something else. Is this where I lie still and let him do whatever he wants me to? If he wants to, yes, if he goes into command mode and flips me over and pins my hands in place. Really, I'm all over that scene. 

But maybe he wants me on my knees. Maybe he wants me lighting a candle, or fetching an implement. Maybe he even wants me on top of him, straddling him. He loves when I straddle him. I used to hate that, and still get self conscious at times. I feel more comfortable with it now. Practice makes perfect.

How to be submissive while initiating? I reach out and run my hands around his chest, and ask permission to touch him. “May I kiss you?” 

“May I have permission to give you a....” (you know what I mean.) 

But sometimes I ask him without words. I reach for him tentatively, and if he's interested, I keep doing what keeps him interested. If he's not...I follow his lead. 

He loves when I come in fresh from a shower and give him what he calls the "come hither" eyes. He loves when I bring him coffee in bed, lock the door, and stand in front of the bed and strip. He loves when I get up on my knees and pleasure him while he lies in bed, in every way I can possibly imagine. Loves all of that. 

I know he loves it, and I give that to him...so what am I doing? Showing an interest in him sexually, being the one to initiate, doesn't detract from my submissive role. I am pleasing him. And isn't it my job to seek to please him? 

If you, like my friend, suspect your husband would also like it if you showed more interest, there are a few things I'd suggest you try. 

Buy yourself some new little things to dress up in. New panties, bras, a sexy little nightie. Or, surprise him and wear nothing. 

Ask yourself what time of day he's more receptive. When he wakes up in the morning (pretty common, I think). When he comes to bed at night? And prepare yourself. Be open to his pursuit, but respond. Touch him back. Ask for permission to please him. Kiss him. Straddle him. Jason loves it when he knows I'm enjoying myself, telling him out loud how much I am, or with my body language and the sounds I make that I am indeed enjoying things. 

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Confidence is sexy. It's important to keep that in mind. See this? 

You may find he digs it. Not necessarily off the table if you're submissive. Why? Because confidence is attractive. 

Let your husband know you want him. Flirt. Send him a sexy text message. Whisper suggestive things into his ear. Offer to try something different and exciting. Touch him often. Don't let the sun set on a day you haven't given him a lingering kiss and a little bit more.

What about you, readers? Do you have any advice along these lines? How would you urge a submissive to pursue intimacy with her husband, if he wishes her to?

Would you like to read more on this subject? You may enjoy post two in my "Cultivating Submission" series: "In the Bedroom."

Little Girl

There's a little girl inside me. She's swathed in the body of a thirty-something-year-old mama, but she's there. 

She was stifled, tucked away, quieted, for a very long time, and only occasionally peeked out, in a giggled conversation with friends, at a happy memory, or when something made her eager with anticipation. She hid, though. She was so afraid that if she allowed herself to be seen for too long, the woman she was trying so desperately to grow into would become overshadowed. She feared ridicule. 

But things are different now. 

She comes to play quite often, though she chooses to come out very selectively. She likes to be taken care of. She loves having her hair brushed or braided. She adores being read to, or listening to stories. She breathes with little sighs of relief when she's tucked into bed at night. She likes viewing things with innocent eyes. She likes seeing the beauty in the world around her, uninhibited by cynicism. 

Sometimes she pouts when she gets in trouble. But she tries not to. That only gets her in more trouble, you see. 

She is not allowed to be reckless, or petulant, and she must conduct herself with decorum. But she plays freely. Her life is structured and disciplined, but she is free. 

So free.

The little girl in me was surprised when she found herself addressed as such – “baby,” “little one,” "baby girl," and even the literal, “little girl,” helped coax the little girl out of hiding. It makes her feel special. Cared for. 

She laughs often. She no longer fears her presence will detract from the maturity she yearned for. No, no, that fear has been laid to rest. Because now she realizes she was there all along, beside the woman, a part of her that never could quite fully go away, but only hid because she was afraid. 

She no longer hides in fear. Now, she is happy. She is well cared for. Now, the little girl in me roams free, because she is safe. 

So safe. 

It was the freedom to be who she was she yearned for all along. The little girl is here to stay.

Slippy Socks Spankin'

It's that time of year again! Bumping it up, as I earned a slippy socks spanking this very morning. 

He sits on the edge of the bed, paddle in hand. 

We're both not feeling so hot, so I thought maybe we'd skip my spanking this morning. But no, he is sitting there with the paddle in hand. The paddle is kinda my fave. Unless he's using the soft leather strap. Or his belt. Or... ok, ok, I digress. 

I see him with that paddle in hand. It's so freaking hot. Often I get a spanking when he's dressed for work (which is hot), but today he's wearing jeans and a hooded sweatshirt (which is also hot). 

"Come on over and climb aboard," he says. 

Goof. 

When I see him there with the paddle I think, "Yep. What was I thinking? Of course I want a spanking." 

So I scoot over, pull 'em down, and lay over his lap. Only there's one problem. I have a pair of fluffy socks on that I call my slippy socks, because I can practically ice skate around my house in them. 

I lay myself over his lap and sliiiiiddddeeee my feet go sliding back. I try again, and again, but I can't get my footing! The slippy socks are doing their job, and I'm sprawled over his lap like a sack of potatoes. 

Smack! The paddle cracks down. "Wait, honey, I can't get my footing!" I protest.

"You mean you can't get away?" he asks with a chuckle. "Good!" 

Smack!

"Babe, please, my feet are sliding all over the place and -- ow!"

Smack!

"Nope. You keep those socks on your feet. I love this." He's laughing while he cracks the paddle on my butt.

I slide and lay hopelessly prostrate over his knee, the oomph of air wooshing out of me as my full weight lay across his thighs. I am  helpless to move! No scootching over! No squirming! Just splat across his lap. 

I wiggle and squirm, and with no way to support myself I feel like I weigh a million pounds, so it utterly shocks me when with one freaking arm tucked under me, he picks me up bodily and positions me right where he wants me! (Ok, that was hot.)

Smack! He spanks me, and he spanks me, and he spanks me (and yeah, I love it). 

Finally, he's done. I'm all jelly-legged, with a screaming hot bottom, and I literally slide right off his lap onto my knees, which he finds wildly amusing. 

"This is awesome," he chuckles. "Next time I need to punish you, I'm telling you to go get your slippy socks on so you can't get away. It'll be like code. 

He gets all stern and serious. "I'll just say, 'Babe. Slippy Socks.' "

I frown, trying to hide my secret amusement. "What are you talking about?" I say petulantly. "There will be no punishment! There is no next time! I'm a good girl and I won't need to be punished!" 

Without another word, he picks the paddle up, bends over and Smack! lands a good one on my screaming hot rear end. 

We both laugh out loud. 

"Was that for lying?" I laugh. 

"Yup."

Fantasy versus Reality

Hello, readers!

Well, it seems I took an unplanned sabbatical in the month of September. It was insanely busy, much more than both Jason and I would've preferred. We are mostly quiet, home bodies, that prefer a lot of down time and not a lot of socializing or running around. But much of the busyness of September was unavoidable. Anyway, we survived. And I only got in trouble...a few times. I'm mostly a good girl, you know! But when I'm not...well, he knows what to do with me.

Anyway! There's a topic that I've been thinking on for a while now, that I thought might be a good one to bring up as I get back into blogging.

Fantasy versus Reality.

Of course, because of the nature of the subject of this blog is DD or D/S, I'm referring specifically to fantasy versus reality in a d/s dynamic.

About six months ago or so, I was chatting with a submissive friend of mine. Her husband is a former reader of my blog. Note, I said "former." She told me he won't read blogs anymore, because it's too difficult to determine what is true and what isn't, and he feels that bloggers encourage readers to embrace the fantasy instead of reality in their d/s world. Ouch. It got me to thinking...do I do that here?

 I am scrupulously honest, so that part of the criticism did not bother me. If anyone thinks I'm not honest, they're free to not read. It's my personal opinion that dishonestly can't be maintained for a length of time, so those who blog dishonestly will show their true colors eventually. I'm not here to be popular (have you seen how few comments I get? lol), so I post what I feel led to post. So that particular criticism, I get, but I don't feel it applies to me. 

However, the second part of the criticism may apply. I tend to be a fairly optimistic person in all areas of life, so when I come to blog, I do try to put a positive spin on things. It's how I face things, with rosy-eyed optimism, even to a fault, at times. So yes, perhaps I do show that things are rosier than they actually are. I am also a hopeless romantic. So when I talk about Jason, and I blog about our life here, I do paint a fairly romantic, positive, glowing picture.

And the truth is, Jason and I are pretty madly in love with one another. It's not an exaggeration. We just are. Last night, he pulled me over to him and in for a hug and said something like, "I know you like me." (He's so cute!) I cuddled in and said something like, "You know I adore you." I do. He's kind of amazing, and he thinks I'm pretty cool, too. 

So where does the fantasy versus reality put us, then?

Jason and I have been at this dynamic now for nearly three years, though we had a d/s dynamic in our relationship all along. So sometimes I forget what it was like when we were just beginning. Sometimes I forget the growing pains we went through, until another reader or friend who lives this shares something that triggesr a memory. We've gone through our growing pains. We still have our struggles, as we're only human. But hammering out details of our dynamic is not where we're at right now. We've already come to a place that works for us, and now we maintain that dynamic, changing as our needs shift. 

So perhaps I do sometimes paint an unrealstic picture, because I'm immersed in a working, comfortable d/s dynamic. 

How to explore this, then? I think I'll take a look at some of the "fantasy" danger zones that come up in some of the fiction I've read, and compare it to the "reality" of living this life. 

In fantasy, the Dom is always engaged. 

In reality? Yeah, not always. From my perspective in "reality," Jason needs enormous amounts of downtime. In the beginning, when we were starting out, that killed me. I always felt rejected and hurt, and I did not accept the fact that my man couldn't be "on" every day, all day. I took his need to recharge as a personal slight against me. I felt if he pulled away, it was a personal refusal of me as a person. 

Not so! Being a Dominant requires an incredible amount of self-control and emotional availability. Jason has a demanding job at work, and a busy life as a father, and although he is amazing at being available and attentive to me, he really needs time to unwind. Knowing that, I plan on it now. The kids and I have plans on Saturday afternoons that intentionally don't include him, just so he can have a few hours alone. I go to bed several hours before Jason does, and get up several hours before him. I didn't like our differing bedtimes for a long time, but have come to accept it's in both of our best interests. This works for us. 

When he is very busy at work (this time of year especially), he is not always as available as I'd like. So how do I handle that? I work out often, and hard, six days a week. A regular, intense workout routine provides stress relief and the endorphin rush I crave. I make self care a high priority. I stay in touch with good friends. I have goals I'm working toward, and my own interests apart from Jason. I also know, because of our routine here, that I can count on two check-in's a day, and open communication. So when I need him, I to go to him. But I do make sure I am taking care of my own needs as well. 


In fantasy, the Dom is 100% consistent, follows through with discipline and handles aftercare perfectly. 

In reality, Doms are human beings. They are not always consistent. They sometimes don't have the energy to follow through. They aren't always in a place to give aftercare. And in reality, some Doms don't always agree that discipline is needed. 

Now, since we've been at this a while, we don't struggle with consistency. Jason is consistent, and I know if he thinks I deserve to be punished, I will be punished. He tries to follow through as soon as possible, but in reality, that doesn't always work out. Recently, I was absolutely exhausted, and I lost my temper with him. It was brief, but unacceptable. I felt immediately repentant. He came in to me, was very gentle as he knew I was so exhausted, and told me he wouldn't allow the disrespect, but I needed sleep more than anything. He made me go to bed. The next day, he did indeed take me over his lap and remind me that he expects respect from me, and I was punished quite firmly. But in reality, it waited for the next day. In reality, he felt my needs for sleep were more important than my need to be discplined. 

In reality, I don't always get aftercare. There have been times when he was still very upset with me. Times when he felt being sent to bed with a sore bottom was a more effective punishment than a hug afterward.

In fantasy, spankings are sexy. 

In reality, spankings hurt. Yeah, we have our sexy spankings and yes, I'm deeply erotically attracted to Jason's discipline. But in reality, placing myself over his knee to be disciplined is not hot; it isn't all gushy and sexy. It is hard to do. It's humbling. The actual acceptance of discipline is far more challenging in real life.

In fantasy, things are textbook perfect. 

In reality, they're not.

But in a fantasy world, perfection is fleeting. 

There is depth to a relationship that is tested, and lasts. There is depth to a relationship in which both parties have learned to compromise, to work through the difficulties, and give of themselves to one another. 

In reality, love is built on a foundation of trust and self-giving, not hearts and flowers. 

I much prefer reality to fantasy. 

What about you, readers? What have you found different in reality than in fantasy? Do you think blogs promote fantasy over reality? How do you think we can counteract this?