Last week, I posted about how badly I was craving a spanking. Jason was home on Monday, and he called to me from upstairs. I came to the foot of the stairs and he made a spanking motion with his hand. Code word for, “Are we going to check in?” I was busy with the kids and asked him, “Can you go read my blog post, please?”
Later that day, he called me up. But I’d had a terribly stressful day, and some situations out of my control frustrated me to no end. I needed to talk to him and tell him what was on my mind. I was in a terrible headspace for a spanking, stressed and unfocused, but he insisted. I’d asked for his belt, and he was prepared to give it to me at a time when we actually had some privacy. He wanted me to take it anyway. So I leaned over the bed and took the spanking.
But it didn’t help at all. I didn’t have the time to really talk to him, to really let go of what was bothering me, and I left the room surprised and a little perplexed, because the weight in my chest had grown instead of dissolving like a good spanking usually does for me. And I was sad that I’d gotten what I thought I needed but felt worse than I did before.
He came down for dinner, and even though I had that delicious sting going on, I had a weight on my chest I couldn’t move. “I’m sorry,” I told him, because he’d really put in that effort and I didn’t want to neglect to thank him. “You gave me what I wanted, but I still feel terrilbe. I think I was just so worked up beforehand that it only made things worse.”
I’ve used the analogy before of a dirty windshield. If you're driving a car with a dirty windshield, sometimes tossing a drop or splash of windshield wash on it smears things worse before they’re clean. You have to keep pushing, try again, use more solution and wipe those blades until your windshield is spotlessly clean and you can see again. Sometimes it’s not just a spanking we need. We need to follow whatever rituals get us into the proper headspace to begin with. We often need the full acknowledgement of what we’re doing and why, the follow through, and then the reconnection of a kiss, aftercare, or intimacy.
Let’s be honest, though. We don’t live in Fantasyland. Things get in the ways. Deadlines, jobs, kids, phone calls, appointments, sleep. So often, we need to accept what we have and learn to cope without perfection. Cultivate a heart of thanksgiving. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t keep striving, though. I’m not advocating we demand what we want selfishly. It’s important to be grateful and at peace. However, it’s also important to delve deeply into what we’re aiming for.
Recently, I listened to an excellent talk on defining our purpose. Why are we here? What are we doing? I ask a lot of probing questions on this blog, and I do it intentionally. Over the years people have told me, “Why ask why? If it works, do it.” Though I respect that and daresay it works for many, it doesn’t work for me. I believe we ask why, because when we understand what our ultimate goal is, our thoughts and actions have a greater purpose. I offer my own why on this blog not only to process my purpose, but to help those who have a similar mindset to understand their own.
Why did the spanking I craved, asked for, and received, not satisfy me in the way I hoped? It was too rushed. I had too much on my heart and mind, so when I submitted to Jason, it was only physically. Mentally, I hadn’t really accepted this and for me, the psychology of submission is so much more deeply woven into who I am. So when he spanked me, he smeared that windshield, and I was left feeling worse than I did before he spanked me, and I hadn’t even been punished (which is much harder for me).
We’ve been doing this long enough, that Jason understands all this, though. I got some time alone with him, and I shared this with him. “I feel terrible,” I said. “You gave me exactly what I wanted, but I feel worse than I did before. I’m sorry.”
Thankfully, he gets me. Thankfully, he loves spanking me, so it's not a hardship to do it again. So he hugged me and said, “It’s okay. We’ll do it again. I’ll give you what you need, and we’ll keep at it until we get you where you need to be.” I was so grateful he wasn’t angry or frustrated, but patient. And I made up my mind I’d be patient myself.
And the very next day, we had another opportunity for privacy again. This time, he took his time. He called me to him and had me kneel and held my chin between his thumb and finger so I could keep my eyes on him. He asked me to tell him what was on my mind, and I did. I cried a little. And when I’d poured out everything I needed to say, he went over my rules and reminded me of what he expected from me.
He told me to go over his lap and took his time with a long, slow spanking. It hurt, but I needed it, and when I was done, he admired his handiwork and sent me on my way. This time, I felt calm and relaxed after he spanked me. This time, my heart was at rest and I felt the calm I crave from submitting to him. I don’t always. But I was so, so grateful he understood my needs weren’t really met the first time, and persisted until he did.
Sometimes, that’s how it works. It isn’t always what we plan, but if we communicate effectively and honestly, we can keep on pushing on.
Blogging about how badly I needed him was the first step for me. The second was asking him to read that, so he knew what my needs were. But even then, we had to keep pushing. He didn’t take it personally, or feel frustrated. I was honest with my needs and what I craved. And today, several days later, the kids were all out of the house and he called me up to him again.
“Strip,” he said, unbuckling his belt. I was nervous but eager, because I just can’t get enough. I asked him to warm me up first, because man does that belt hurt without a warm up, and he was happy to. A warm up for us just means a lighter spanking so I can take harder and longer, and harder and longer is what I crave when I’m dying for a good spanking with impact that hurts and lingers. He sorta just flicked the belt all over until I was good and ready, then spanked me with the tail end harder, until he worked his way up to doubling it over and giving me a good, hard spanking.
This time, I felt that peace and satisfaction that comes from being spanked by him. There’s something about trusting him to take me there that satisfies me in a way nothing else does. I let him hurt me, but in a good way, in a way that helps me let go of what troubles me and live in this moment, and that moment is being at peace with the man that I trust. It makes me feel strong and capable to bear the marks of his belt and to know I took a spanking, and even now, as I can still feel the sting and burn, it makes me smile a little. He gets my unconventional cravings and takes me there, beyond what’s comfortable and normal, into the deeper part of what I need. And in so doing, he makes me feel loved.
There’s a freedom in the surrender. There’s pleasure in the pain. And at the heart of it all, there’s love.
I love being his.