Sunday, June 25, 2017

Putting it back together.

Good morning, and happy Sunday blog day. :)

This was a crazy week. Crazy! Jason had some time off from work, which was fantastic. I love staying home with him, just relaxing and doing little day trips with our kids. We had a few days that we spent with each other on a bit of a "staycation," and it was lovely. The weather was warm, the days were sunny, and with our kids getting older it's a lot easier to enjoy outings and trips (when they were little it was quite the challenge!).

But we had some challenges that came up, and it put a strain on us. Not one, but several family members became gravely ill, and they needed a good deal of help from us. There were doctor visits and at one point a trip to the hospital, visitors from out of state, a birthday party, and some pretty intense meetings we had to attend for one of our children.

We've reached that stage of our lives, the season if you will, where our older children are teen-agers with very particular needs, our younger children are no longer babies but all school-age, and our parents are well entrenched in old age and the challenges that brings. It is a very different stage of life than we were when we began this lifestyle. When we began, we had no teens and had toddler and babies, and our extended family was self-sufficient. It makes a difference, as we learn to adapt, and outside influences affect our relationship.

So we had a whole lot going on. Oh, and I have two books coming out this week (see my author page for details). Eep!

Though Jason was here, and we spent a great deal of time with each other, he was stressed. I was stressed. And we all know how that goes. No bueno. 

So we took steps to mitigate that stress, and it helped a great deal. He gave me stress relief and daily check-ins. We talked, we kissed, we spent time with each other, we went out to eat, I gave him space, we slept lots.

But although Jason was, and always is, my Dom, he was not really in a good place to be my strict Dom. Even though I don't get in trouble much these days, sometimes I need a firmer hand, even if I'm not in trouble.

So by the time Thursday rolled around, I'd slipped. I was snappy and grumpy. I'd not broken any rules, but I was wiped. Because here's the thing.

It takes a ton of focus to submit. 

Submission doesn't come naturally for me at all. I have to work at it, fight for it, and when my focus is elsewhere -- managing my work, or attending to my children, or helping our family, all things that came up this week -- I don't slip into that head space easily. And sometimes? That means I snap.

When I've spent four hours dealing with medical issues for a relative, or had to make umpteen phone calls for my child, or had a to-do list a mile long, or spent several hours in rush hour traffic, my mental energy is expended. I simply don't always have what it takes to reach down into that reserve needed to submit, and do it. Kneel. Concede to Jason's wishes. Say, "Yes, daddy." Deny myself and focus on him.

Sometimes I just can't do it. 

This is just the way it goes.

Submission takes so much work, and unless someone is wired this way to begin with, or has very little stress in his or her life, there will be times when that dedication to submission slips, and the same is true for dominance. 

So what do we do when that happens? Well, this is one of the reasons he spanks me every day and why I serve him every day. Every single morning, I bring him his coffee and kneel, and that gets me back in the mindset, pushes away distractions and the dominant part of me that gets things done.

Every morning, he looks over my to-do list, reminds me of my rules, and spanks me. This entire ritual is very simple and takes only minutes, but if it doesn't happen, things slip. The ritual is what brings us both into the dominant and submissive head space we need to embrace to live this lifestyle.

We both need to serve one other. 


So by Thursday, many things had come up. We hadn't done our ritual check-in yet, and I had some early morning duties. It had been one thing after another for days. He was weary. I was overwhelmed. And finally one morning, things came to a head. I was finding it harder and harder to submit, more challenging by the minute to reach deep down into myself and yield to him. My tone was getting snippy, and though I hadn't disobeyed any rules, I was not being a very good girl.

I was feeling combative and he was on the edge of withdrawal.

Not. Good.

This is the very beginning, the first glimmer of trouble, when we slip out of the roles that serve each other and into the roles of selfishness. It was starting, just beginning. At this point usually one of us recognizes that we need some help. I might say I need some attention, or suggest he needs downtime, he might suggest I take a nap or have some daddy time with him.

This time, he put down what he was doing, got up, locked the door and said, "Get your ass over here."

I knew he was going to spank me, it was going to be painful, and I needed it.

I did not want to go to him. 

I sorta stood there and hedged my bets until he opened his desk and took out a wicked implement and said, "Now." I did. And thus began the lecture.

"I don't like your attitude and it's time I adjust it for you," he said. I protested at this point, on the verge of getting my ass spanked, because I blamed him a bit for how I felt and also, to be honest, because spankings hurt and I'm only human. But there was really nothing to talk about or prevent at this point. What I really needed was a good, hard spanking, and that is exactly what I got. He didn't let up. He spanked me firmly and thoroughly, until I cried, and even when he was done, he was still a bit upset with me. Even after he spanked me, he had a few more things to say about my attitude, and that was what broke the dam.

I cried, and we talked. I explained how I'd been holding onto so much, and how I needed that spanking.

"I know you're stressed," he said. "But don't you dare mouth off to me again. If you do, I will not hesitate to spank you again."

All I could say was the truth. "I wish you would. I hate feeling this way and it helps when you keep me accountable."

I haven't said anything like that to him in a while, but it needed to be said. He said a few more things that sounded dire and scary and stern, but I needed that. 

The next day, he was back on and so was I. We had even more challenges come up that were outside our control, but we handled it without fighting or getting angry with each other. We talked. He led. I yielded. We rested when we could. And now we are right back where we started.
This lifestyle isn't easy, but we wouldn't have it any other way.

He told me yesterday he was proud of me, that I'd been a good girl. I thanked him for being my daddy. And so, it goes on. 



Sunday, June 18, 2017

Trouble in Paradise

Last weekend, Jason and I had an argument. 

It wasn’t even a bad argument. Most of the time, we can sort out our differences before we get to the point of arguing. I used to have an awful temper, and I still do lose it sometimes, but it will be five years this fall that we started all this. And five years focusing on learning more self control and depending on his leadership has changed things. 

Assume the positive, he says. Always assume the positive. So I try. When someone upsets me, I try to think about things from their point of view. I try to assume positive motives, and focus on what I can control, rather than trying to control the actions of someone else. And I try to do this for Jason as well. I don’t always do this well, though. Sometimes, I fail at this. 

When I’m upset with him, I try to assume positive motives, and I try to see things from his point of view. I ask myself what I can do on my own. I pray. 

So, when we got into a disagreement, that's what I did. I don’t remember the exact details of what happened, but I know that I got in trouble and I did, by our standards, deserve to be punished. But, we don’t always get the privacy we need, and we didn’t have it. He told me to go up to bed and rest a bit. 

I knew in my mind that Jason was feeling pretty upset about what had happened, as it didn’t just involve me, but someone else as well. So I gave him that space. He simply was not in the place of being ready to meet my needs. 

He’s a strict dominant, and he’s very attentive, but he can’t always meet my needs with perfection. 

It’s not always about me. 

We have kids. We have extended family. We both have jobs, and responsibilities. So that night, I was pretty stressed out and I really needed him, but he wasn’t in the place where he could really get into a dominant head space. So, he didn’t. 

That didn’t go over so well with me. I gave him space, but I was hurt. He said a few things that dragged up some of my most painful fears. He didn’t mean to. But it happened. And mentally…I just quit. 

When we talked the next day, I simply decided I could not do it today, and I told him, “Sometimes, like last night, you can’t dom. Well today, I can’t submit. I don’t want to. So I’m not going to.” 

Sounds bratty, doesn’t it? But I wasn’t trying to manipulate or control him. I was hurt, deeply, and the very thought of submitting – of making myself become vulnerable again – just became all too much.

And I really, really felt I couldn't do it.

“That’s not going to go over so well for you,” he said. “You know you need this, and you know you’re going to get in trouble.” 

I shook my head and turned away from him. The very idea of going about my day without submitting hurt like hell, because I’m happiest when this works well, I’m submitted to him and he holds me accountable. When I meet his needs, and he meets mine. 
 
Finally, he got up and left the room, saying on his way out, “Fine, then. Don’t submit. Let’s see how this goes.” 

Gosh, I was hurting inside. I’d hurt myself physically the week before, and being sidelined had me grumpy and out of sorts, and the reality is, it takes a lot of self control and energy to submit, just like it takes to dom. Stress, illness, and outside circumstance often affect our ability to do this well. And sometimes? We don’t do it.

I’ve had readers tell us we were the perfect example of a D/s couple. No, we aren’t. We’re just normal people. We make mistakes. We hurt each other. D/s isn’t lived perfectly here. 

It is our True North, though. It is what brings us back to center when things go astray.

So after I talked to Jason, I calmed myself down and made a to-do list of what had to be done. I knew, deep down in my heart, that eventually things would be right again. I knew that would likely involve me going over his lap and likely getting a good, hard spanking to get me back into my submissive head space. I knew this wasn’t the end for us. We thrive under these roles. And a little blip along the way doesn’t mean it’s over. So I didn’t despair of things ever being right again. 

I just needed to step off the train. 

A little while later, Jason came in the room, came over to me and said, “We need to talk.” 

I sighed. I didn’t want to talk. But I do want to trust him. And I wanted to make things right again. And even though I didn’t want to submit, I didn’t want to be mean to him, either. 

“Okay,” I said. (Notice, no “daddy.”)

He looked down at me, and he wasn’t angry, but just very gentle. 

“I was selfish,” he said. “You were selfish. We both were. Let’s just admit that and put this behind us.” I got a little choked up then, because I knew he was right. 

And just like that, we picked up where we left off. He had me come to the side of the bed and go over my rules. I went over his lap. He spanked me and I cried, good and hard. He held me. We both apologized. He kissed me, and our day went on. 

Gosh, the day was hard though. My life is so heavily submersed in this lifestyle. Between blogging and writing and friends I interact with, I live and breathe this lifestyle. And I needed to step back a bit, refocus, and keep my eyes on Jason. 

I needed to clear my mind and focus nowhere but here, on our relationship, our dynamic. 

I needed to remind myself that this isn’t all about me

And when we mess things up, we simply need to remind each other that it’s okay to say I was wrong. 

It’s okay to say I’m sorry. 

Because in the end, we’re just two people who make mistakes and pick ourselves back up again, two people who love each other so much that we will keep on putting the focus back on each other even when we don’t want to, willing to reap the joy even through pain.

Sunday, June 11, 2017

Pouty Little Girl

The other day, Jason spanked me.

I know, shocker. 

I don’t remember what I did, but I do know it wasn’t huge trouble, but it was also not a fun spanking, or a reminder, but a punishment, and that the spanking happened at the end of the night. 

We have a sort of routine when I get a naughty girl spanking. He calls me up to him, takes out his implement, makes me kneel, and we talk about whatever it is we need to talk about. He usually lectures, reinforces why we have this rule, and then over the knee I go.

I’m sure I deserved it. If I didn’t, I’d probably be blogging about a whole other topic! 

He hugged me and he told me to get ready for bed, so I did, and when he came up to me, I sorta looked like this.


Not a really bratty pout, but an I need some attention pout. 

Now, to clarify, serious pouting isn’t tolerated. If he tells me no, or he lectures me, and I pout back at him, I can pretty much guarantee I’ll get in trouble for it, and I try not to do that anyway. But sometimes… if he’s been very busy or I got in trouble and I need my daddy so badly, I almost can’t help but pout a bit…well, that’s okay. 

I’m his baby girl. And the beauty of being his baby girl means I don’t always have to act like a grown-up

He doesn’t mind if I need him and show it, and he always responds the same way. He chuckles, or smiles, and comes over to me, pulls me up onto his chest or his lap and says, “Don’t pout, baby.” He likes that I let my guard down. He likes that I trust him enough not to have to put on a brave face all the time. He’s my Dom, and doms need to be needed. 

There’s a childlike part of all of us, and one of the most beautiful parts of embracing my submission is that I’ve been able to let that part of me free. I am a busy person with oh-so-many responsibilities. My to-do lists are, at times, monumental. The other day a friend of mine said something to the effect, “From where I’m standing, your life looks like well-orchestrated chaos.” Yes, I think that’s pretty accurate. 

Being submissive to Jason doesn’t mean that I’m not an adult. I still have a great deal of responsibility. It does mean that I’m free to let so much go, though, a concept I’ve explored many times here on this blog, such as this post HERE.

But today, I’d like to explain something else that’s happened as a result of being Jason’s little girl.  Because he’s my daddy, and I don’t have to shoulder all the responsibilities all the time, there are times when I feel very different. This I’ve explored as well, about how there's a little girl inside me, and that there's a big difference between childish and childlike. 

But the reason that I’ve brought it up again is because the longer we are in this, the more I’m able to truly let go. I don’t have to pretend to be a grow-up all the time. I love just being his little girl.

So the other day, Jason spanked me, and when he came upstairs later, I pouted a bit. 

“Aw, honey,” he said. “You need your daddy, don’t you?” 

I nodded, and I felt very little. Cherished. Protected. Childlike. 

“Yes, daddy.”

It's hard to admit that, even on this blog where I've bared my heart and soul for years, because I'm an adult. I'm a professional. But at the end of the day, when my kids are tucked in, my work is done and I'm offline, I have no more chores or responsibilities and only rest lies ahead of me? 

I'm only Jason's Girl. 

“Come here, honey,” he said, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “You’re very tired, and it’s time I put you to bed.” The covers were all tangled, so he said, “Daddies need to straighten out sheets for little girls,” and he did, lifting the bedspread and smoothing out the sheets before tucking me back in. “You may read for a little bit, but then I want you to get some sleep.” 

Yes, I melted into a puddle.

One could say that he was treating me like a child, and honestly, it would be a pretty accurate assessment. I certainly felt very little. But I loved it. 

 What exactly does it mean to be an adult? Does it mean that we shoulder responsibilities? That we are expected to behave maturely? That we’ll handle responsibilities without shrugging them off? That we willingly sacrifice our own needs to meet the needs of others?

Well, yes. 

There’s a trend these days with people saying, “I don’t want to adult today.” Some days, the weight of responsibility becomes too much to hold, and it’s utterly freeing just to relax. 

And honestly, I think that’s one of the most beautiful parts of being Jason’s little girl. I don’t always have to be the strong one. 

I can embrace being young at heart. I can trust him to tuck me in, and take care of my needs. I can go to bed because he’s told me to, and not have to worry about all the things that bother me. 

And that means I don’t feel like I always have to be so grown up.

It’s not really what I do but how I feel, which is an important distinction to make. I still do what needs to be done. I don't shirk my duties. But when I'm in my submissive head space, I can easily slip into being his little girl, and it often happens these days after I’ve been disciplined. I decided to blog about this, because it’s something that’s been simmering beneath the surface for years, but only fully come to light in recent months, likely because it's taken this long to come to grips with who we are. The relationship constantly evolves. 

Every time he doms me, every time I submit to him, we grow a little bit.

The more I trust him, the more vulnerable I can allow myself to become, and the more vulnerable I can allow myself to become, the fewer masks I need to wear. 

I feel…cared for. Little. Vulnerable. Cherished. 

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