Jason and I have typically gotten along quite well when it comes to politics. I respect his opinion and our value system is really similar, though we don't always agree on everything.
I told him the other day I read online that some dominants don't allow their submissives to vote. This surprised me, because I sort of tend to view things from my own perspective, and in our dynamic, though I'm obedient to Jason, he encourages me to have my own opinions. With no disrespect meant to those who live this differently, I'm not sure I'd be able to submit to a dominant who didn't allow me to vote. Having autonomy in all of this is incredibly important to me. I trust Jason to lead me morally, to guide me, to protect me, and take care of me. I don't always agree with what he expects of me, but he always listens to me and hears me out.
Jason wants me to have an opinion, and he values that opinion. However, we do have a difference of opinion when it comes to the upcoming election here in America.
Now, I'm not going to get into a detailed discussion on politics. I know people I love and respect who strongly support both candidates, and I don't judge them on that. I, however, have some pretty strong feelings regarding both candidates. So does Jason. Suffice it to say, that my strong feelings and his aren't equally matched. And that's fine. We may vote the same and we may vote differently. We discuss our political opinions in the light of our own value system quite regularly.
However, the other day, the ol' temper of mine reared its ugly head. Honestly, looking back, I now find what happened quite funny, and what resulted pretty damn hot.
I was riled up about something online. Now, this wasn't something that was specifically about the candidates, but the fact that some people I know are pushing the idea that “the only moral vote” is one way. I so strongly disagree with this assertion. I'll vote my own conscience and thank everyone else for staying out of it.
Jason doesn't really like when I get riled up. He likes that I can be feisty and he likes that I have strong opinions. What he doesn't like is when my temper gets the best of me.
I was muttering under my breath.
“Now, don't get all upset,” he said. “Everyone's entitled to their opinions, and what they think is of no consequence to you.”
“But it isn't right! I don't even agree with what they're saying. Who do they think they are, telling me I have only one choice morally? They're wrong.”
“Doesn't matter. Let it go.”
Well. I didn't let it go. The day was starting, so I started getting ready. I was taking things personally, and even though I shouldn't have, I couldn't seem to stop myself. We continued to discuss things as we prepared for the day. He got out his work clothes, and I kept bringing things up.
He kept saying things like, “You need to calm yourself down,” and, “if you don't keep your temper in check, I will.”
Warning bells. Did I listen? Nope.
Stop! A dom with a palm of steel up ahead. Watch your speed, girl!
I plowed right on.
Finally, he said something to me and I snapped, letting loose a string of words laced with sarcasm and rudeness.
Our door was already shut and locked. Kids downstairs.
It was so classic.
The minute the words left my mouth, I regretted them.
“That's it!” Jason said. He grabbed me by the wrist and hauled me over to the bed, where he already had implements (yes, plural) out for my morning maintenance session. Whoops.
He sat on the bed, hauled me over his lap, pulled down my uber thin plaid pj bottoms down to my ankles, picked up an implement and let me have it. The whole time, I was seriously thinking, “God, that was really stupid. I so totally deserve this!”
But it hurt, a lot. He spanks hard, and he was pissed. So I squirmed and wiggled and hollered, as he held me down and let me have it. It was fast – maybe a few dozen swats, at most – then he whipped the implement to the floor and let me have a good, hard round with his hand, while I protested.
“Ow ow ow! Ohhh, I'm sorry! I'm really really sorry!”
And I really really was.
Now, before anyone writes to me or comments and says how unfair it was that I got spanked over a political discussion, please keep in mind that this wasn't over the political discussion. We have political discussions all the time. I very well may vote differently than Jason in this upcoming election, and Jason is fine with that. It wasn't the political discussion that landed me over his lap, but my temper and rudeness. Sometimes I snap. It happens. I get spanked, and we move on with life.
After a few more searing swats with the man's palm of steel, he stopped. I'm laying over his knee, my bottom on fire, and I exhale. Phew. And I tell him exactly what I'm thinking.
“Wow. That was a seriously bitchy comment. I am so sorry.”
He bursts out laughing.
I drop to my knees in front of him, and now we're both laughing. Honest to God, I giggled about it all day long and was more than a little turned on by the memory of my man grabbing me by the wrist, dragging me over his lap, and giving me a classic textbook over-the-knee spanking.
In the end, it was a good reminder that this can be such a good way of having conflict resolution. For everyone? Well, no. For us? Sure. It just works. We could've been fuming about our convo all day long, but instead, I was left feeling hot for my man, my head put on straight again, and he sure felt better about things, too (ha!).
And I can report that we've had multiple political discussions since then, and no one got spanked in the process.