Sunday, September 25, 2016

No one ever said it was easy.

I've been at this now long enough that I know the telltale signs. Exhaustion. Frustration. Anger, or hurt, or fear. It all contributes to feeling overwhelmed, and it all makes it difficult to submit.

I've already been pushing the envelope the past few days. It starts on Saturday, as I'm about ready to go. I'm busy busy getting ready to go and take the kids out and Jason has some home improvement projects he's working on. I've got everything ready to go, and Jason calls me to him. He's waiting for me, and two rather serious implements are waiting for me on the bed. My stomach twists and turns, and I stare at him with wide eyes as I drop to my knees for my morning check in.

“What are those doing there?” I ask in an innocent voice.

“Oh, we have a few things to discuss,” he says.

I furrow my brow and try to remember. I've been busy, and I don't remember really doing anything wrong. But he notices everything.

“You've been pushing it with many things, little girl,” he said. “Your tone has been less than desirable. You've been driving too fast when you drive. And I'm sensing some resistance from you.” He knows how I get right before I get in trouble. I don't submit as readily. Submission takes enormous self control, will power, and presence of mind. I'm not always up for the challenge. When I'm stressed, I find it much more difficult.

“I think a trip over my knee will help remind you of your place,” he says, patting his lap. I practically groan, though if he were to change his mind right now, a small part of me might still be disappointed. I like that he's stern and consistent, and serious. It means I'm important to him, that he values what I value, and that he desires my obedience.

Over his knee I go, and later that day I can feel the ache every time I sit down, the reminder to obey. Be good. Do what he says. And I do, I obey all day long, and he's thrilled with me. He tells me he's taking me out on a date, and that he's proud of me (I did indeed hit the bestseller list with my latest release – thanks to those who cheered me on!). We go on a lovely date and have an even lovelier time when we come home.

But it isn't enough. You see, somehow, I can't tank up on his dominance and being a good girl. My reserves can still get drained the next day. I can still step out of line, if the stars align just so, and boy do they ever.

The next day, I get up early and end up having to give someone a ride I didn't plan. We're rushing around like crazy to get to church, no time for a good morning hug or kiss, much less a check-in. I come home and I'm stressed because I've got so much to do. And Jason is stressed because he's got so much to do. And the next thing you know, I'm trying to talk to him and he's in no place to listen, and he tells me he's not happy with a few things. But I'm not in the place to listen. I'm already maxxed out, completely running on empty, and with no time with him, feeling very out of sorts. I snap. I try telling him why what he is saying to me is hurtful, but instead it comes out with a snarky tone and anger.

“Four,” he says, my warning code that's oh-so-close to trouble.

Four? I want to throw it back at him. No, not four, I think, and I think a few other choice things that would get me spanked something awful if I said them out loud. At this point, there are a few things that work. Sometimes I'll text Maisy and she'll talk me off the ledge, but Maisy is away and I'm already pretty pissed anyway. Sometimes I'll self talk myself into obeying, or take a walk outside, or go into another room and lock myself in it counting to ten until I've gotten control of my anger. But I'm flat-out in the middle of a kitchen full of messes, baking. My floors are sticky and my counters a mess, I'm starving and I need coffee, bad. So...I mutter something rude under my breath and he simply says, 'Five.”

We've been here. I know I'm in trouble, and I don't care at this point.

“You'll regret this later,” he said. I know I will.

But the reality is? Submission is hard. It's oh so pretty in a book, or when things are lovely. It's sweet kneeling before him, or getting a nice sexy spanking. I smile to myself when I give my collar a little tug, or he wraps his hand around my neck when we're out, fiercely protective and focused on me. The other night he braided my hair before bed and tucked me in, and I went to bed counting my blessings. Submitting to him can be blissful sometimes. But sometimes? It's just plain hard. And I don't always do it. I'm far from the perfect submissive. I've learned so much and I'm sometimes surprised at how I'm able to keep myself in check whereas I'd have lost my temper just a few years ago. But then there are days like today when everything in me wants to tell him to take a flying leap off a building. Stop telling me what to do. You don't understand me. You don't understand that as a busy working mom, I feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. Is my house clean? Did I get enough exercise in? Are my kids having their needs met? Are they happy, and healthy? Did I sign that form I was supposed to, make that phone call I was supposed to, and why are the floors sticky again? You don't know, boss man, how much I've got on my mind right now, you don't have the first clue and I'm so not going to fucking do what you say.

Yeah, I'm not the perfect submissive here, folks.

Jason is angry so he goes about doing what he needs to and I'm not too happy myself. Finally, I get upstairs to grab something before I need to run an errand, and he calls me to him.

“I..want you to know how I feel,” I say.

“I know how you feel,” he replies.

“I certainly don't feel like you do,” I say. “If I felt like you did, I wouldn't have acted the way I did downstairs.”

“You'll regret that later,” he says nonchalantly, giving me "the look." We don't have privacy and he can't spank me now, and even if we did have privacy, he needs some time to cool off.

So in a rush of words, I tell him all, all the very many tangled worries on my mind, and he nods and listens. Then, he breaks through my armor because...he apologizes. 

Damn. He's not supposed to do that. How can I stay angry at him if he apologizes?

So...I apologize, too. But we have unfinished business, because in this dynamic? There are consequences for my actions.

I have to go, though. I have a time-sensitive errand to run, so I tell him I'm sorry, and he nods his head. “While you're out, I want you thinking about how you should behave yourself as a good girl. And come and give me a kiss.” So I do. I kiss him, and while I'm out I do think about how I'm going to be a good girl.

By the time I get home, there's a weight on my chest and a lump in my throat because I hate dissension between us. A few weeks ago I wrote about a simple trip to the supermarket, just me and Jason, and so many of you wrote to me about how sweet that was. Well, when you eroticize your relationship and remove conflict, that's what happens. The adoration, warm fuzzies, and simple companionship flourish. I'm used to that now, his tenderness with me, the way he tucks me in and rubs my back and kisses me good night, the way he listens and holds me and offers his broad shoulders for my troubles. And there's been a breach. We need to be better again. And because we solve things here with spanking...that's what has to happen.

Finally, the time has come. We have total privacy. I'm kneeling before him and we've talked every last bit out. He's told me how he's going to help and I've apologized for how I behaved. I'm humbled now, ready to be punished, when his hands go to my waist.

“I don't want to be punished,” I whisper, my eyes shut, because my nerves are churning. I deserve a spanking. I know I do. He knows I do. And when I'm in trouble, Jason spanks hard.

He unfastens my jeans and pushes them down. He fetches the hairbrush and I whimper because it's my most dreaded implement. For a morning maintenance or something similar, I often go over his lap. I like my belly over both knees. He's taller than I am, so my feet come straight off the floor, and I love the physical connection over his lap. But he's giving me a serious spanking now.  He pats his knee, and I lay myself over one knee, crossing my ankles because I know it's going to hurt and I want to accept what I can. He hates when I fight him so I try to take as many precautions as I can. Over I go. He bares me. There's no lecture this time. We both know why I'm being spanked.

And he begins, hard, with unrelenting swats with that awful, thick brush that burns so that I can hardly stand it, and as I suspect, he positions me for a good hard spanking. His legs trap mine, and his hand wraps around my waist. If it's a different kind of spanking and I'm not being punished, I like that hand around my waist because he's sometimes doing fun things with that hand. But not today. Nope. Today, he's anchoring me, holding me in position as he very firmly, very soundly gives me one of the hardest spankings I've gotten in a really long time. Over and over it falls, and I am twisting, trying to get away but there's no use, as he's got me restrained good and hard and he's not going to let me go until he thinks he's given me the spanking I deserve.

I can't help but beg him. “Oh, please stop,” I whisper, even though I know it does no good, but I can't help it. “Ow, ow, ow,” I say into the blanket, fisting it in my hands, it hurts so bad and even though I deserve it I can hardly bear it, each wicked bite of the brush making me gasp and squirm. I have no idea how long I'm over his knee, but it seems like it's forever. Tears are in my eyes, just on the cusp of falling, but I can't cry when I'm still being paddled like this as it's all I can do to take my spanking.

Finally, finally, he's done. The awful swats are over, and he gives me several good slaps with his hand, his signature move, closing off an implement spanking with his hand. Then he's soothing me, his warm hand rubbing out the sting, and with one line, my tears break free.

“I know there's a good girl in there,” he says softly. “I know my good girl is in there.” And I break down completely, weeping now, finally those pent-up tears flowing freely. He gently pushes me down to my knees so I drop my head in his lap.

“I'm so sorry, Daddy,” I whisper, over and over, as he hushes me and I cry into his shirt. I'm sniffling, a total mess, my nose stuffy and runny and tears all over the place, but he doesn't care. This is his job. He hates punishing me but he does it because this is how we do things. This is what we do. I want his dominance and he wants my submission. I've agreed to be punished, and he's agreed to be my disciplinarian. But I'm his baby girl. And I need some comfort.

After a while, my tears slow and he holds me a little longer before we go on about our day. But it's hard being punished in the middle of the day like that. If it's at night, I sleep it off and wake up refreshed, but during the day I still hold onto that feeling of being subdued, chastised, submitted to him, and a little bit sad. I'm no longer pent up or angry, or guilty. But there's that need to be held by him. That need to have just a bit more TLC. About an hour later, I rest my head on his shoulder in the kitchen and he leans back against the counter, pulling me to his chest and I put my arms around his neck. He kisses my forehead.

“I'm sorry,” I whisper.

“I know, baby,” he says. “Are you going to be sorry all day?”

“I don't know,” I say honestly, because I don't. Sometimes it just lingers a bit. “It's just...hard to accept that.”

He smiles. “I understand,” he says. “I'd feel the same way if I were punished by me like that.”

That makes me laugh. I have a lot still to do, but he's helping me. He does the laundry while I do my lesson plans, and I tell him I'm going to sit down and blog. He says it'll be good for me, and I agree. Sometimes just writing it all out helps. How hard this all is. How it feels before, during, and after. How I need him, and how he meets those needs. And sometimes I don't have a nice neat little conclusion at the end. I'm still sitting on a very sore bottom and I still need to snuggle up on his chest, and to be honest, I still need to cry a little.

Sometimes the only conclusion I have is that this is not easy. I wouldn't change it for anything. I am happy, and fulfilled, and so is he, but this is not easy.

But then again, no one ever told me it would be.

Monday, September 19, 2016

Yes, Daddy

Hello, readers, time for a check in post. I hope this post finds all of you well. Looks like my Sunday posts have morphed into Monday posts! September is a busy month and the past week here was crazy. We had unexpected overnight guests for four nights. I released a second historical book (details in the side bar). I was also hormonal (eep!). But we survived, even if I did get spanked a time or two. Is it possible to get spanked good and hard when you have guests over? Why yes, yes it is, with silent implements and a blanket shoved into your mouth. Ahem. 

So an interesting thing has happened. We're nearing our four year DD anniversary, and I've been blogging now for three. In the past six months or so, many of you have written to me, and the majority of you are baby girls. As we get to know each other, many of those who write to me confess that you really, really want to call your man Daddy. So I've come to the conclusion that the flavor of this blog appeals to many who crave a Daddy Dom/little girl (DD/lg) dynamic. 

I talked it out with Jason. You see, I've been calling Jason “Daddy” for years, but don't talk about it on the blog because Jason preferred I keep it quiet. Within the DD/lg community, there is a great deal of age play, and Jason has a strong personal aversion to age play. Plus, we try to write to a larger D/s audience, and we've been judged quite harshly within the D/s community for the Daddy thing. Some love it. Some respect it. But there's a stigma involved. 

I'm at the point where frankly, I don't give a damn who likes what we do or who we are. As I get to know the D/s writing community more (what a phenomenal group of people!) I feel so much more comfortable in my own skin. With Jason's permission, I've given some of my books to my family and friends. His cousin and my sisters now know my pen name, and read my books. It's clear when you read my books what I like, and it's also clear if you put my books together with knowing me and Jason that we're into this. Everyone, without exception, has been tremendously supportive. 

So I talked it over with Jason, and he said it was okay to blog about the Daddy Dom/little girl aspect to our relationship. Today I'm going to tell you about why I call Jason Daddy. Some of you may not like it and some may not read here anymore, and I respect that. But I also think Daddy Doms are widely misunderstood, and I also think that a submissive unearthing her own craving for a DD/lg dynamic is hugely freeing. So here and there, I'm going to blog about this dynamic. How we came to this. Why it's such a good fit. What makes it distinct from other D/s relationships. Things like that. 

About three years ago, I was chatting with a D/s friend, and she explained to me about Daddy Doms. At the time, it was a whole new concept to me. I read about it and realized that yes, it was a very good fit for us, but we were new, and I was afraid of freaking Jason out, so I kept it to myself. 

A few months later, I was reading a blog written by Lilli over at Becoming Baby Girl. She was detailing an exchange between her and her husband, and in this exchange, she said Yes, Daddy. 

Out of the blue, it hit me hard. I was overcome with emotion. I wanted that. 

Jason was lying next to me in bed and I couldn't hold it back from him anymore. The conversation went something like this. 

“There's something I need to tell you, but I'm afraid to. I think you're gonna freak out and I don't want you to freak out.” 

He gave me the one eyebrow raised look. “Oh? Well, I won't freak out. Promise. Tell me what it is.” 

“I can't!” 

Jason grew more serious. “Yes, you can. Now tell me.” 

I took a deep breath and blurted out, “I read about this thing...and...some submissives call their dominants Daddy and...I really really want to do that. Badly.” 

He didn't freak out. He simply said, “Then do it.” 

This shocked me. I was prepared for him to say no way, no how, but not only was he fine with it, he insisted on it. 

“I can't!” I protested. 

“Do. It.” 

I'd already been taught to obey him at this point, so finally I put my head on his chest, closed my eyes tight and said, “Yes, Daddy.” 

It felt so good. I know, a small thing, right? But I cried. I actually cried. It felt so nice. I broke that barrier, and he hugged me and said, “Good girl. I want you to keep calling me Daddy. I'm going to insist on this.” He knew I needed this. 

So, I did. At first, it was only when we were alone, and in bed. To my shock, we both found this attractive. So over the past few years, I've tried to get to the bottom of the why, because that's what I do. I like knowing why. So I've researched and read, and dabbled in various communities. And I've come to many conclusions. 

First, there's nothing at all parental about calling a dominant partner “Daddy.” It's just a term of endearment, stemming from a desire to be taken care of, to feel safe, and protected. It's no different from the way a Latino man may call his wife “mama,” or a guy would call his lover “baby.” It doesn't mean they are his actual mother or baby. It's a term of endearment. It's a sweet way of saying, “I'm safe with you. You're stronger than I am. You love me. I trust you to take care of me. With you, I don't have to pretend to be anyone I'm not.” 

Baby girls like me crave not only the attention and discipline of a strong authority figure, but we also want accountability. We want to grow. We want to be protected, and taken care of. 

Daddy Doms love hearing the word “Daddy” come from their baby girls. It shows that they are trusted. It shows that their submissive partner feels safe. And let's be honest...for some of us? The taboo aspect of it is just really, really hot. 

So over time, Jason and I grew to really love exploring the Daddy Dom/little girl dynamic and how it fits for us. I'm a baby girl...not really a little. Some enjoy exploring age play, but I don't. I do love certain aspects of being a baby girl, though, like being tucked into bed, having my hair brushed, or sitting on his lap. Sometimes he braids my hair. 

Before bed at night, nearly every single night, Jason says, “Come tell Daddy about your day,” and I melt. When things are busy around here, or I've had a long day, and we haven't had time together, I crave calling him Daddy. We close the door, I climb into his lap or onto his chest, snuggle up and just say, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.” He usually chuckles and says things like, “Soak up your Daddy, little one.” Swoon. 

It's just a unique flavor. We all have our own takes on things, our own ways of making our dynamic completely unique, tailor-fit to meet the needs of one another. For us, that means he's trained me to obey him intuitively. He expects immediate obedience and complete trust. For us, that means we're not really into heavy BDSM, but very much into the exchange of power. For us, that means I'm his little girl, and he's my Daddy Dom. I trust him. He looks out for me. I go to him for moral guidance, support, and accountability. He relishes my trust. 

He calls me little one, and I call him Daddy.  

Sunday, September 11, 2016

Frequently Asked Questions (for those already in the lifestyle)

Hello, readers. I promised those of you who asked that I would put together a list of frequently asked questions (FAQ) for people who were lifestylers. I'm going to add to this as I think on more.

Jason and I are nowhere near as experienced as some, but as a lifestyler and blogger, I've observed enough that I can tell you what are some very common questions I've heard from those who have already begun practicing DD. The first FAQ post is here.

He's consistent, but it's hard. I don't enjoy being punished. Now what?

I remember when things started to shift here between me and Jason, and we went from “testing the waters” to “the real deal.” Essentially...when he fully started expecting my obedience. I realized something shocking – I didn't like to be punished. I had fantasized about it, and we'd worked so hard to get where we were and then...he punished me. And I didn't like how I felt. It wasn't sexy. It was...sobering.

I mentioned my shocked feelings to another submissive who told me something a bit obvious that I still needed to hear. “You aren't supposed to like it. It's punishment.”

I spent some time thinking about that and realized that yes...she really was right. Did I dislike DD? Well, no. Not at all. It was exactly what I'd hoped it would be, in that our conflict was becoming less, we were closer, and I was more attracted to him than ever. It was just the punishment I disliked. And I knew after a great deal of reflection and talking with Jason, that I really did much prefer he expect my obedience. But if this was going to work? Punishment had to be something I didn't like. It had to be something I didn't want. For us, I had to dislike being punished enough to truly not want to earn a punishment again.

So for us, it was a necessary road I had to cross, going from “I really want this,” and “this is really hot” to “I need to make sure I obey my husband,” and truly wanting to please him. At that point, we were already doing maintenance. He was already domming me on a regular basis. So I didn't “need” to feel the dominance in a punishment. This worked really well for us.

That said, some people find that they try it and it really doesn't work for them. If it doesn't, then I'd suggest taking a break. Try to see what it is that you don't like about it. Can you work through it? Or maybe in the end this simply isn't a lifestyle that's for you. It happens. Sometimes a couple simply can't make it work right for both of them and the healthiest thing is to step back and reevaluate.

Finally, the “now what” part often leads to “what next” with a couple. You knew you wanted DD. You've got that. But something is missing. Oftentimes, what happens is that a couple finds that DD opens up a door for other things they may also want, such as further play on the BDSM spectrum, or more Dom/Sub interaction. It's a natural progression for many. It was for us.

How do I stay calm and not lose my temper? It sounds great that someone can keep their temper in check with no emotional outbursts. But how do I actually get there?

This is perhaps the most common question I get from people who are active in the lifestyle. They know they want to stay calm. They know they can stay calm. But they don't have the actual tools to help them get there. That's okay. Someone can say they want to lose weight, but without the actual knowledge of how to diet or exercise, they don't really know how to achieve their goal.

If you were raised without good coping mechanisms for dealing with anger or frustration, it may be all well and good for your dominant partner to say “Behave yourself, young lady, or I'll spank you.” But ...then what? You just stop feeling? Well, no. Not really.

I'll tell you what I do. First, I self talk to myself. If I'm angry at Jason, I try to reason. “He's tired, and so are you. Give him some space to get some rest, and things will work out. He works hard. He's sucha good Daddy. He's SO good to you. Give him some slack.”

or “Take a deep breath. He'll be calmer later and so will you, and you can talk them.”

Or even (gah!) “Better get your #$(% together, because you're gonna get spanked.”

When possible, I remove myself from the situation and give myself some space.

I remind myself that I don't want to be spanked, and how nice it is when Jason is pleased with me.

I deep breathe. Count to ten, or fifty.

I try to reevaluate some stressful situations (Is it the kids' naptime? Are they overtired? Hungry?) and take it from there.

How do I communicate my needs?

Effective communication is going to vary greatly from couple to couple. But what I frequently suggest is that you be as frank as possible. Don't beat around the bush or hint, and expect your partner to know exactly what you want. But also try to be understanding of your partner's reservations.

The story of how I first asked Jason to spank me is here. I played a bit of a game. I wasn't asking him to punish me, but spank me. Punishment is far different. What I finally ended up doing was getting spanked by him “for real” before I ever asked him to punish me. He decided it would be best for me, and it really was. But that's sort of rare that it happens that way.

If you find it difficult communicating verbally, consider writing a letter or email. I've done this many times when I didn't trust myself to speak calmly or rationally.

Also, consider using “I” phrases. Dominant partners frequently (though not always) appreciate a request that isn't accusatory versus one that is. So “I really feel better when you spank me” might have a better effect than “You need to punish me.” Or “I need to be held accountable” might be better than “you need to consistent.” Remember to communicate, not accuse.

I'm lonely. How do I find others who live this lifestyle?

I remember feeling this way vividly. Jason used to allow me to go to chat rooms and online forums, but eventually, over time, he removed me from those places. It was better for me that I focus on my relationship with him rather than discuss it with others. But for a good long while, visiting with others served a really strong need in me. Others find the same. There are several DD and DS message boards, forms, and chat rooms online. Also, consider blogging. It hasn't been a social outlet for me at all, since I don't really glean much from reading DD blogs and do it very rarely. But others have found great friends in the DS blogging community. As a D/s writer, I am now frequently in touch with other writers, and many are also lifestylers. We do connect on that level. And Maisy, my very best friend, is knowledgeable about the lifestyle and tremendously supportive. So my needs are met. Others, however, really could use some support.

How can we do this discreetly?

It's totally possible. Jason and I do it with a large house full of kids. First, find ways to communicate discreetly. Can you text? Email each other? Lock your door and speak in private? Communication is such a hugely vital part of all this, that finding ways to communicate regularly is so very effective.

Then, if spanking is going to become part of your routine, can you find privacy? I've known people who used basements, garages, the car, a shed, the attic...anywhere they could to find a private place to spank. Here, our bedroom is weirdly nearly sound-proofed. I'm not sure how that's happened. Maybe the previous owners were spankos lol. But I know that if our door is shut, I can stand at the bottom of the stairs and shout Jason's name and he will not hear a thing. We've done sound tests and you can't hear anything. Trust me, I got spanked good and hard last night and no one heard a darn thing.

There are also quiet implements. We use a mini blind turner most of the time (shorter mini one, acrylic) and I dislike it but it sure gets the job done. Canes and switches are other options, but please proceed with caution. All silent implements tend to be very severe, and must be modulated, tested, and applied carefully.

That said, the spanking is only a small part of all this. Find ways to communicate. Jason and I have a number system so that he gives me a number for “Yes,” “No,” “Warning” and “Trouble.”

I thought we were doing so well, and now things seem to be regressing. Why?

This is extremely common, even necessary. Growing pains must happen because a lifestyle like this hinges on so very many things. There are times of trial and error. All of these things need to happen in order for a couple to carve out a lifestyle choice that's theirs.

Every single person is unique; so, too, is every single couple. What works for me and Jason wouldn't work for others. We had to communicate effectively, make some mistakes, and be honest with one another that we are still making mistakes sometimes. I have said it here and I'll say it again: this lifestyle choice is frequently about taking two steps forward and one step back. You make progress, but not until you've had a setback. They happen. Please don't despair. Keep at it.

As I mentioned earlier, I will keep adding to this (and linking other posts that pertain to certain topics). Please let me know if you have any other questions!

Monday, September 5, 2016

Romanticizing the Every Day


I skipped blogging last week unintentionally. We got home from vacation and you know how that goes.. unpacking, getting back into the swing of things, acting like a total brat and getting your ass soundly spanked...

Oh wait, maybe that last part is just me? Yikes. Yes, I lost my mind, and I actually not only lost my temper but I told Jason no. I even FELT like a brat. I'll admit...although I don't "believe" in bratting (meaning, I don't think it's a healthy form of communication), everyone has moments. Mine are much rarer than they ever were before but I'm not an angel and I'm not a perfect sub.

What's interesting is that this time, Jason actually took it easier on me than I expected. I got spanked, and it wasn't a little love pat. But I thought I was going to get one of those very serious, extremely rare, severe spankings he's been known to deal out when necessary. He didn't. Why? Because he actually felt that some of what happened was his fault. He told me later, "You hadn't gotten maintenance. You were very overwhelmed. You were overworked and tired. You came to me and I needed to help you. This was every bit as much my fault as it was yours.” I cried, he held me, and we lived happily ever after.

School has started and writing is still happening, but more slowly now. 

As the busy days of fall are upon us, I realized last night that I always take a break this time of year and fade away! If I do, it's only because school has started (I teach) and the new routines with my ankle biters is off and running. Still blogging here. I have several posts in draft that I will be posting in the new few weeks:

Coming out – how much to share? How many people know about me and Jason? What do we share and why? What are some factors to consider?

Attention, please. Why the need for attention is at the heart of many dynamics and why feeding the need for attention is often a cure for what ails you.

FAQ post two.

Watch this space, but please be patient as the days are shortening and I really need longer days this time of year!

Jason and I had a really great weekend, and since the majority of you who write to me tell me all the time that you love the anecdotal stories and real life events, I'll tell you about it. It's not terribly thrilling but rather a “day in the life of a Dom/sub relationship)." Those of you who follow me on Facebook may have already heard a bit about it. (::waves hi!::)

The weekend was really fantastic. Friday night, Jason ordered pizza for the kids and put a movie on, sending me on my way to get a mani-pedi. It's one of the treats I indulge in regularly and I love it. Gosh, I felt like a new woman when I came home (and he really prefers my nails done, has commented several times since how nice they look). So I was sorta glowing and happy and relaxed going into the weekend.

Saturday morning, I got some great work done early in the morning (final revisions sent in for my second historical book! Yay!), a great workout in (finally healing from my injury of a few months back and can run again), and he rewarded me with a thorough spanking session I needed badly. Over the knee, out came that silent rod and he spanked me from “Oooww” to “whoosh,” limp as a rag doll right over his lap.

But the day was starting and we had some things that had to be done, so we had to move on with our day. By Saturday night, I was craving a good, long session. I really wanted that intimate connection. There are some things that are just hard to do when we are raising a family. I am up very early in the morning, and Jason stays up late at night, so we have to adjust to each other's schedules.

I get spanked frequently and the man is all Dom, so my needs are met in that area. But...well, good long sessions take a good deal of time. And we don't always have that time. I'm tired. He's tired. Our kids need us. And some of the more serious things involved in a good session need to wait until the kids are in bed. But Saturday night, I was really hoping for some time together.

He was putting our youngest to bed. She typically snuggles with him or me in our bed. He had just finished reading to her, and she was snuggling down. The days with little ones here are fleeting. All my kids are school age now. No more babies. I miss those days! Anyway, she was just dozing off to sleep and I wanted to talk to him so I plopped belly down on the bed.

“Hey,” I said, wiggling my brows at him and grinning. “You up know...” and I moved my hands through the air like I was tying shoe laces. He sorta missed it.

“What's that?”

So I picked up his foot and pretended to tie a shoe. “You know...we talked about tonight? I was wondering if you'd...” :: makes tying motions with hands:: (Bondage, dude!)

He got it and grinned, and flicked an imaginary whip. “And this?”

I nodded eagerly and we had a total convo about what we wanted to do (he used pig latin and I continued to mime) and we were both grinning by the end. Suffice it to say, when the kids went to bed, a good time was had by all. ;)

Yesterday, we took our kids to church, I got some things done and then Jason came downstairs later in the afternoon. “How about I grill some steak tips tonight?” Y'all, I love steak tips. It's top of the list for my very favorite food, and I'm rocking the low carb/high protein diet these days, so it's a serious treat. 

“Let's go to the store,” Jason said. Our kids are old enough now that we can scoot out together to run errands alone. We hopped in the car and went to the store. As we walked in, he asked if he could buy me a treat. I told him I'd love some low-sugar ice cream, and he told me he'd pick some up. We walked to the produce aisle to get some corn on the cob, and he said, “They usually have a shucking station. Do you see one?” In the stores around here they usually have a large display of corn on the cob with boxes or barrels so you can husk the corn in the store and bring it home ready to eat.

Well, I couldn't help myself. “I don't know. Where's that shucking station? This is shucking nuts.” He didn't need to be prodded. Jason is the King of Puns, and before you know it, he was making dirty “shucking” comments to me in my ear, and we were laughing like two crazy people in the middle of the produce aisle, me blushing.

I picked up an ear of corn, and this is when things shifted a bit. “Not in that bin," Jason said. "I don't like how those look. These are better here.” He indicated a second bin in front of him.

But I honestly thought the ones near me looked perfectly fine. “This one looks good, though,” I said, one in my hand.

His voice hardened just a tiny bit. No one else would've even noticed but I felt the immidate change in temperature. “No. These ones here, please,” he said. And that was it. No more argument for me over ears of corn. I obeyed without another word, and did what he said. We filled up our bag, put it in the cart, and moved on. I felt a bit of that peace I feel when I obey him. It's not always easy to submit, and this was such a tiny issue. As we walked toward the steak aisle, I stepped closer to him, he put his arm around me and hugged me. I just wanted to feel him.

We walked by a display of thermal coffee mugs and he paused. I recently bought us these mugs and we love them (Contigo thermal coffee mugs, guys – if you're coffee or tea lovers like us, you'll love them!). Jason wanted to buy a second one in case the first gets lost or broken, he loves the mug that much and they were on sale. I told him I'd been thinking of buying one for a few family members, but they're not cheap.

“Pick them out and put them in the cart,” he said. I did, sort of smiling shyly at him. I can't really explain it, but his generosity is something I'm really attracted to. He's the most generous person I've ever known. He gives without question, and always has. I simply thanked him, and I felt myself getting that soft, glowing sorta feeling I get when I'm around him. I just love him so much.

We got to the ice cream aisle, and he had me pick one out that I'd like. We checked out, and when we got to the parking lot, I instinctively reached for the bags. He doesn't like me to lift the grocery bags, but I sometimes forget. “I've got these,” he said, taking them from me. “Go sit in the van now.” I obeyed without question, because I love being treated like that.

After he loaded the van, he came to my window and knocked on it. I lowered the window, he dipped his head in and gave me a full-on kiss. Two young women were getting into their car in front of us, and the one closest to us grinned to herself as she got in the car, when she saw the two of us kiss. Jason and I laughed about it, but I thought to myself, “Good. Let the younger kids see that even married people can still be affectionate.”

When we got home, I happily teased him about the fact that he couldn't give me his obligatory swat on the ass as he always does when I go into the house ahead of him, because his hands were filled with grocery bags. And of course later, he made up for the missed swat.

Romance is more than hearts and flowers and words on the page. It's more than candle-lit dinners and roses. For some of us, it's being taken over the knee by a strong, dependable man who won't put up with misbehavior. For some of us, it's a man who takes charge, pays the bills, tells us to get to bed on time, and helps us manage our emotions and stress. For some of us, it's a simple trip to the supermarket. A reminder that we are loved, and so very blessed to be wed to a man with strong moral convictions, a generous heart, and old-fashioned values.

So, nothing remarkable or earth-shattering here. I wanted to share how a relationship with Dominance and submission adds an erotic element to an otherwise very normal, not very glamorous, relationship. 

The other day, Jason said “Adding spanking into our relationship has been the best thing we've ever done for our marriage.” It's not just the spanking – it's the focus on each other. The constant erotic vibe. It's meeting each other's needs. It's learning how to compromise, and how to openly communicate. It's reveling in each other. Growing with one another. Learning how to really love.