The stress of this week piled on me, one little thing at a time, drip, drip, drip...
I was a ball of raging hormones, exhaustion, and fatigue. Hadn't gotten to the gym. My to-do list seemed insurmountable. I hadn't taken my supplements, so I hadn't slept well at all. Finally, one evening – I forget when it even was, but it was before the holiday – I realized I hadn't checked in with Jason all day. I forget what happened, but life got in the way and our morning time together was cut short. I cleared the dinner table, and began to spiral like a madwoman.
We have a rule here that I'm to go to him when I feel overwhelmed, without delay. If he's not home then it needs to be a phone call or text. Well, he was home. My kids were all occupied doing various things, Jason was upstairs, and I was in the kitchen staring at piles of dishes feeling like it was all just a bit too much.
I knew I needed a spanking.
But I didn't want one. I picked up my phone and texted Maisy. I told her I hadn't done three or four of the things he expects me to do every single day, for a few days, and I hadn't told him.
She responded right away.
Oh, honey. You need to tell him. You need to tell him NOW.
That's when I started to cry, because I knew she was right. I knew I had to tell him. I knew he'd want to know. I knew also knew that he would spank me, and I needed it, but I didn't want one.
I said something like no, no, nooooooo. I can't!
I stood on the cusp of submission and shook my head no. No. It's too hard. I don't need his help. I don't want to lie over his lap. Spankings hurt. I don't want him to lecture me. I don't want to admit I've screwed up. No, no, no!
I knew I had to. I knew eventually I would. But in that moment? I had a bit of a babygirl fit and refused because submission is so damn hard. It's beautiful, and lovely, when this all works the way it's supposed to. It's freeing, sexy, and fulfilling. But sometimes it takes every bit of strength I have to actually do it. It's not just that getting spanked hurts. It's so much more – admitting that I need help. Admitting that I've somehow failed. Opening my mind and heart just one more time, into that deep, personal, sensitive place that makes me so utterly bare, so utterly vulnerable.
I hid, away from Jason and my kids, crying as quietly to myself as I could, so that no one would hear me, while Maisy, like the amazing friend she is, told me what I needed to hear.
The medicine you need to take is right there. It doesn't taste good, and you don't want to do it, but you have to. And when you do, you'll be all better.
She was right. And then I started feeling a little guilty, because all the other things, while important, pale into comparison to what I was doing at that very moment – holding myself apart from him, when it's his strong desire to comfort me when I'm hurting. He might be disappointed in me that I didn't do something I was supposed to on my to-do list. He might lecture. But holding myself apart from him, hiding my weakness, is not acceptable. It's hard, but it must happen.
Everything else leads to this.
So, sniffling like a little girl, I dragged my feet to the stairs, prepared for the sternness and spanking I was sure to receive. Prepared? Is that the right word? I don't know if I'm really ever quite prepared. But I felt at least that bit of courage I need to bring myself to him. Thankfully, he was alone. I went into our room, locked the door, and faced him.
“Can we talk?”
He put down what he was doing. It was then he saw the tears and how desperate I was, as he gestured for me to come and kneel. I knelt in front of him, put my cheek on his knee, and cried my eyes out. I don't even remember what I said, but it was something like, “I have messed everything up! I haven't done anything on my list. I haven't done my health rules, I keep forgetting my supplements, it's been days and I haven't even told you. I feel yucky and so tired...” and it went on and on while I cried.
He leaned down and, looking at me not sternly, not angrily, but with nothing but tenderness as he wiped away the tears. He said the last thing I expected him to say.
“You are so beautiful, and make me so proud.”
Sniffling, holding onto him for dear life, on my knees submitted to him in a physical reminder to us both that he is in charge and I bring myself to him in surrender, I told him how I felt. “Proud? How can you be proud of me when I've messed things up and gotten so worked up like this?” And in my head, how can you say I'm beautiful when my hair is a wreck, my face an utter mess and tear-stained, my eyes half-dropping from exhaustion? I did not feel beautiful.
“Because look at you. Look at how hard you try.” He pulled me to him fiercely, in a tight embrace that took my breath away as he held me. “You make me so very happy.”
He released me and I stared up at him, the tears abating a bit. “I do, daddy?”
“So happy, baby. Now listen.” He grew a bit more stern now, taking my chin between his thumb and forefinger like he does when I'm kneeling. I stared into his blue eyes and nodded, listening.
“You need a few things. You need a good spanking. You need me to take you to bed. And then you need a good night's sleep.”
How could I argue with that?
“Are you going to punish me, daddy?” I asked. I wanted to know.
He shook his head. “I'm not punishing you, no. I'm going to bring you back to center, where you need to be. It's time for me to take control.”
I needed that so badly. He knew it and I knew it, and just hearing him say it brought the lens back into focus, cleared the confusion and mayhem in my mind, and helped me just be.
He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, tilting my head back, that gesture that is erotic but also says listen to me. This is important. I am in charge.
“I'm going to be home the next couple of days. When you need me, you will come to me. I'm going to help you with all that needs to be done. But you listen. Tonight, I'm not punishing you. But tomorrow? If any of these things fails to happen that I expect from you? You will find yourself over my knee. Do you understand?”
I needed that. I so needed that.
I nodded. “Yes, daddy. I do understand.” He kissed me then, and sent me to go finish what had to be done for the evening while he got the littlest ones ready for bed. And that night, when the house was quiet, I went to him while he laid in bed waiting for me. He was stern, yet gentle, while he guided me over his lap and called me his little one. He stripped me, and spanked me, not harshly but very firmly, a long, slow spanking that bit by bit stripped away all that troubled me. That led to other utterly delicious things, and then he tucked me in.
Yes. This is why this works. I come to him at my most vulnerable, and he knows what I need. He takes control, and once I bring myself to the point where I freely give him control, it all happens the way it is meant to. It's not easy in the moment, and takes great strength to surrender. But it's worth it, oh so worth it.
Mind, body, and soul.
I've been doing a bit of reading lately, and thinking about the connection between mind, body, and soul. I think that a relationship built on a foundation of dominance and submission has the potential of being fulfilling because of the mind, body, soul connection. If it were just about spanking or sex, then only the body would be engaged. If it were just words or thoughts or theory, it would be just the mind engaging. But there's far more to it, when there's the submission from me and acceptance from him, on every level, my mind open to his, my body in utter surrender to his control, my very soul united with his, as we are one.
"I love you like this because I don't know any other way to love , except in this form in which I am not not are you, so close that your hand upon my chest is mine..." ~Pablo Neruda