The other morning, Jason sat on the edge of the bed.
“Come here, baby,” he said. “I need to check you in.”
“You know,” I said to him. “When people write to me on the blog, interested or pursuing the lifestyle, you know what the number one thing is they tell me they want? It's not what you'd think. You'd think it was the discipline? No. Most of them want daily check-in's.”
He nodded, the rod in hand, and as I looked at him I got a little jelly-legged. There's something about those hands – holding a paddle, or his rod, or his belt, while he waits for me to come to him, that make me go all aquiver. I swallowed, and faced him, as he pointed to the floor for me to kneel.
“I understand that they want this,” he said. “Women need to feel understood. They need to feel that they're important to their man. You have so much on your mind, and it's hard sorting it out sometimes.”
Yes. Yes, that. Thank you, Jason.
He reached for my hair, his strong hand going to the crown of my neck, and gently tugging my head back to look at him. “Do you feel that way? Important, understood, and special to me?”
He knows the answer, but he wants to hear it sometimes. “I do,” I whispered. “So much so. I love that you do this for me.”
I was in desperate need of a check-in right then. Check-ins are so important to us, as they set us up to have a good day ahead. He says he likes knowing he leaves me in a good place, and that knowledge satisfies him, as well. There's nothing left unsaid, no doubts or uncertainties. Sometimes I even jot things down in my to-do list app he checks (Google Keep) that I need to talk to him about, so I don't forget. He thinks it's cute and that usually draws a smirk (so, naturally, I occasionally put something awfully naughty on the list, too, and he's always very good about making sure that gets done, too.)
I used to get stress relief often, but I don't need it as much anymore, for many reasons. For one...you guessed it...our check-in's. If I have something that needs to be said, I can say it then. The second reason is because I have a schedule, goals, and a daily to-do list he holds me accountable to. And finally, his ever-present leadership and guidance removes so much stress. Still, though, I need stress relief from time to time, and I'm grateful he's willing to deliver.
When we checked in that morning, there was so much on my mind. I had things to do, places to go, people to see, and I felt pent up inside. I was keeping my emotions at bay, as I have a tendency to slip out of my submissive place when I'm stressed, and I prefer not to do that.
He went over my list (and checked it twice, made sure I wasn't naughty, but nice, haha!) and then he patted his lap.
“Over my knee, little girl.” He prefers the stout tilt wand these days, because it's so quiet and effective.
It might sound like overkill that he puts me over his knee every day. And for some people, it would be. But I have high needs, and we both find that a daily dose of otk helps keep me submissive. It's not really stress relief, and rarely punishment, but more of a good role reminder. Just yesterday, I was feeling all over the map, and after he spanked me, he grabbed my collar – it's sturdy, a silver necklace that's ever-present – and he twisted it firmly, bringing me close to him. “Remember this,” he said. “Remember who you belong to. You're mine.” And I did. All day, I reached up to touch my collar and remembered his words.
Remember this. You are mine.
Over his lap I went. Normally, the very act of putting myself over his knee and submitting that way strips away whatever is bothering me. But that day, he began spanking me, and it was hard and fast, the swats of the rod like hot bee stings, but deeper. I was gasping by the fourth or fifth swat, and squirming. I'm not allowed to control or alter a spanking in any way, but when it's for something like a morning check-in, I'm allowed an opinion or request. “May I have your belt?” or “please, I need more,” are submissive requests he takes into consideration.
That morning, I felt I needed to process the spanking. Hard and fast had me tensed up, and yes, certainly in my place, where he needs me to be – it's a good reminder of how that spanking will intensify if I misbehave – but I felt the need for something different. “Please,” I said, in between the hard and fast swats. “Today, can you please help me by going slower? I think it would help me.” He paused.
I nodded, still prone over his lap, my head nestled in my arms on the bed. “It helps me process, when you go slow and steady. Please.” I was fully willing to accept whatever he would give me. It's his call, after all.
He lifted the rod and brought it down, hard, but not as hard as he does when he punishes me.
He paused, a few beats in between raising it again, and delivering another hard swat.
And as he continued, building a slow, steady rhythm, it worked. The knot inside me dissolved. I felt a sigh escape, as I closed my eyes. He continued, hard but slow, patiently delivering the firm spanking I needed, the layers of stress evaporating, a warmth building on my naked skin. Though I find Jason spanking me very erotic, I don't always find a check-in spanking arousing. But his very firm, steady tempo certainly did. I murmured appreciatively.
“That better, baby?” he asked low. I nodded.
“Much. Thank you,” I whispered back.
And he's remembered that often I need slow and steady.
Somehow, the slow, steady, firm delivery of a spanking helps me process what I need to. What needs to be done, my daily aim to grow closer, delve deeper, submit even more. Where my place is and who I am – yes, a strong, capable woman, but thoroughly submissive to the man I love.