Sunday, June 3, 2018

Spanked and punished and...yeah, I still need this.

It’s inevitable that I get punished after traveling alone. I’m not sure why. Maybe somehow Jason and I need that reconnection and it’s a sort of subconscious action on my part or his or both of ours. Maybe I’ve just forgotten my place, or he needs to remind me of his.

Last week a blog reader was commenting on the different flavor of my blog, that it’s different from when we first began. I know that our dynamic has changed, and so has my blogging. I think it surprised me was the expectation that it stay static. I explained that I don’t talk much about punishment because I don’t get punished very often. I said, “we’ve been doing this 24/7 for over five and a half years. If I were being punished with regularity at this stage, I think something would be wrong.” And I believe that. If my point in this is to learn to obey him and his is to teach me to obey, regular punishment would mean that something wasn’t working. That isn’t the way it is at first, though. At first, with a steady dynamic in which both partners have mutual goals they’re striving toward, it’s actually common for punishment to be frequent, especially if roles are new. But with a steady focus on roles and dedication to the lifestyle, it should be the case that punishment becomes rarer.

That’s not the only reason I don’t blog much about punishment anymore, though. Yes, it’s infrequent. But it’s also not the point of my submission or his dominance. If it were, I’d be a masochist and he’d be a sadist. I respect those kinks and I have friends that identify that way. But I’m not one of them. I’m not here for the pain. I’m here for the exchange of power.

So recently, after traveling, when I screwed up and broke a pretty blatant rule, and Jason just said matter-of-factly and fairly sternly, “you’ll get a spanking for that tonight,” I got very quiet and contemplative. It feels a little rusty being punished. Spanking is common. In fact, I’m pretty addicted. I get crazy and antsy when it’s been too long without a spanking, and by too long, I mean a day or two. Just last night we didn’t have our full check-in (both of our faults) and by bedtime I was feeling a little grumpy and out of sorts.

But knowing I’m in real trouble still makes me a little queasy inside. I feel a little off waiting for it, though I’ve learned by now not to dwell. I focus instead on being repentant and asking myself why I want this. What I need to learn from this. I focus on what I need to do right now, today, and don’t dwell on the impending punishment. There’s a lot of self-talk that happens through this for me.

I got riddled with nerves when the time came, and when he went into total disciplinarian mode I felt very quiet.

“Where’d you put the brush?” he asked, in that no-nonsense tone. I had to think a moment and then whispered its whereabouts because I freaking hate the brush and I was nervous as hell. He fetched it, sat on the edge of the bed, and called me over. All stern daddy. Took my chin in hand and looked me in the eye and made me tell him why I was in trouble. I want to hide when he does that. It’s hard to look him in his eyes. Then he told me to get over his knee. I did, knowing this was not going to be fun.

Someone asked me the other day “how many” when I get in trouble. I shrugged. I’m certainly not counting when I’m in trouble. It’s all I can do not to fly out of my skin. He’s made me count before, though, so I know real punishment is somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty or a hundred strokes. Some readers will think that’s insane, some will think it fairly light. I know it’s what I need. Any lighter than that feels like maintenance. But I’m stubborn and really not submissive, so I need to be stripped down to submission, and a serious implement while he lectures the hell out of me gets the job done. Others will think I’m a wimp. They can think that. I am!

So over the knee I went, out came the brush, he bared me and spanked me soundly. I didn’t like it. I sniffled and grabbed the bedspread and asked him to stop, but I know how this goes. I don’t have to hold back in asking him to stop because 1) I really can’t help it and 2) he won’t stop until he knows I’ve had enough.

It wasn’t a major infraction, like endangering my safety or being blatantly disrespectful. Both would earn me a severe spanking. But it was hard enough. He lectured me good and long while he spanked me good and hard. I need to hear those things to remind me to submit.

“Just because you’re traveling and running things doesn’t mean you get away with breaking my rules,” he said while he whacked me with that brush in firm, measured strokes. Talk about humbling. Yikes. God, I hate that thing, the burn and sting that’s deep and lasting. “I’ll remind you how to behave, and you’re not going to do this again.”

Of course in an effort of self-preservation I avowed my promise to never ever ever do anything even mildly wrong ever ever again. You know.

The spanking lasted long after I wanted it to stop, and then finally I blurted out, “I’m sorry!” I’ve tried to say that earlier on in the spanking but it doesn’t work. He knows when I’m sorry. I know when I am. There’s not much use saying it until it’s time. He dropped the brush and gave me a few hand smacks for good measure, which hurt like hell after a brush spanking. Or after any spanking, for that matter.

He held me after that. I needed him to. We needed the reconnection, the reminder of our roles. I hate being punished and he hates punishing me, but it’s such an essential part of our dynamic. Rarely visited but ever-present.

He told me he loved me and that I was his good girl and he knew I’d behave now. He said I made him proud, and that these little things that come up need to be dealt with but that’s why he’s here. I sniffled and nodded and just let him take care of me. I need this. He needs this.


And after my emotions settled, we moved on to much, much nicer things, solidifying our connection.

I was subdued and quiet the rest of the night, and the next day, too. Though I’m thankful punishment is rare, I’m also thankful it’s part of our dynamic. I’ve said it before but it’s worth repeating:


the discipline aspect is the part of this I like the least but need the most.

I love this picture from Patty's gallery. It sums up what I feel so hard during punishment times like these. Humble. Grateful. And so ready to climb right back into Jason's arms for the reassurance I need. 

From "Patty's Gallery" (click for link)