Sunday, October 15, 2017

An emergency situation and how we handled it

Hello there, readers. I took last week off because I had a health issue (which I’ll tell you about in a minute), and because I was traveling. Thankfully, the crazy hustle and bustle of fall routines starting up again has settled into good routines for all. Jason and I are in a fantastic place. After we hashed out our distance from a few weeks ago, we’ve put some systems into place. We know that for us, check-in’s have to happen with regularity. We need to intentionally carve out the time we spend with each other. Last night, we had a lovely in-house date, and I’m feeling very content today. Life is good.

But about a week and a half ago, we had a pretty traumatic event happen. I mention it here on this blog because it put both me and Jason through the test with our roles.

So it was a day like any other. My older, somewhat snarky teen-aged son had come home from school and was in a mood, and he hadn’t done what I’d asked him to yet. I came upstairs from turning over the laundry, and he was gaming. Grr. Not happy, I asked him to finish his chores, and he gave me an attitude about it. He’s a good kid, and we don’t have a lot of friction, but sometimes it happens. He came barreling out, grabbed the recycling he was taking out, and was so loud I got worried he’d disturb Jason on his conference call upstairs. So I turned the corner, came up behind my son, adrenaline rushing as I told him to keep it down, and I went to smack the storm door open. My aim was off. The door was old. My hand smacked the glass and my hand and arm went straight through.

It was bad, you guys. Really pretty bad. Glass everywhere, abrasions all along my arm and hand, some really deep. I don’t do blood very well and it scared the hell out of me. 

I screamed to Jason to help me and I’m not gonna lie.I lost every shred of self control. I totally lost my mind. I was petrified. It hurt like hell. There was shattered glass and blood everywhere, all over me, and once glance at my hand terrified me. I was so afraid that I’d severed a tendon, damaged myself so badly I’d hurt my writing career… I was a wreck. Jason, from the top of the stairs, only heard yelling and smashing glass. He came down, and didn’t understand right away what had happened.

Like a lunatic, I yelled at him to grab some towels, anything, so I could stop the bleeding and see if I needed stitches. He grabbed a towel, sat me down, and bandaged me up as best he could, but he knew I had to go to the hospital for stitches.

It was not pretty. 

I was not submissive. I was terrified. Looking back on it now, I’m pretty sure I was in some sort of shock. I told him there was no fucking way I was going to the hospital. I don’t really know why I said that, honestly. I was sobbing, he was growling at me and telling me to listen to him, and I was telling him off.

I never do that. I really really lost my mind.

Weirdly, when one of my kids gets injured, I handle it just fine. Very calm. When it happened to me, I did not. Finally, after I was bandaged up and heading to the hospital, he leaned down to me and hissed in my ear, “You are going to the hospital whether you want to or not. And when you come home, you’re getting the worst spanking you’ve ever gotten. Your temper caused this, and this was totally preventable.”

So… yeah. 

He hates to see me injured. He hates to see me in pain. I’m not allowed to lose my temper.

But…I knew that I hadn’t lost my temper. I really hadn’t. It’s the truth. I’d smacked the door from behind my son. Yeah, I wasn’t all sweet and calm and adrenaline was pumping, but I wasn’t in a temper at all.

Hours later… seven stitches later… sigh… the kids were getting ready for bed. I was home, and took some pain meds, and laid down next to Jason. This entire time I hadn’t had a single sweet daddy word from him. He was totally Very Stern Dom. And I was feeling so sad. Devastated, really. I couldn’t use my hand, and I couldn’t write. I was just shy of finishing a book. I was traveling to a family wedding in two days. All I wanted to do was climb up on his chest, bawl my eyes out, have him hold me, and be his little girl. But it didn’t happen.

I talked to him about what happened, and he was still angry. He said, again, “You could’ve hurt yourself worse or someone else, and I can’t believe how you talked to me. You were so out of line, and tonight, there is no question you deserve a serious spanking.”

I don’t even remember the last time I got a serious spanking. It was months and months ago. And to be brutally honest, I did not think I deserved a spanking. 

I was devastated. But I also recognized that I’d put him in a really tricky position. He still thought I’d lost my temper and caused the injury. And I’d sworn at him. Screamed at him. Disobeyed him. Finally, with a sigh, he said, “We have these rules for a reason. I discipline you for a reason, so that at times like these you focus on me and let me take care of you, and you didn’t.”

He was right. But I was so sore. I was exhausted. I was already crying, and sorry for having lost my mind. And I really didn’t even mean to lose my mind like that. I was ashamed, really. I so did not want a spanking. He went downstairs to see my sons to bed, and I laid on my bed and just cried. I chatted with a good friend, who agreed with me that I’d not been in the right frame of mind when I lost it. “It’s shock,” she said. “You reacted in shock.” I really had. I knew in my heart it was right, and I wasn’t just trying to get out of punishment. I’d been terrified. And when he hadn’t understood how badly I’d been hurt at first, I’d gotten angry and desperate.

So, upstairs and alone, I couldn’t help crying. And finally, I made up my mind. I knew I didn’t want a spanking. I knew I didn’t think I deserved one. 

But I also knew that Jason is my leader. And the man loves me so, so much. It killed him to see me hurt. Killed him. He did not want to punish me. If after all that, he still decided I needed to be punished, I decided I would take it. I had to. 

After all… what was the worst that could happen? I’d been punished before. I’d survive. And I would not drive a wedge between us. I would trust him to take care of my needs, including punishing me if he thought I needed it. 


So, I brought myself downstairs to see Jason. I sat down on the footstool near his chair, and he reached for my hand. “How are you feeling, honey?” I broke down in tears again, because it was the first tender word he’d spoken, and I was craving the sweet daddy side of things so badly. I told him I hurt, a lot, but that more than anything I was upset about the idea of being punished. I promised him that I hadn’t been in a temper. I told him that I really thought I’d been in shock, and it was the terror that caused me to lose my self control.

It takes enormous self control to submit. I didn’t have it then. I hated that I didn’t… but looking back, I can honestly say that I didn’t.

So, I laid it all out for him. But then I told him the truth. “I love you. I’m so sorry. And I’ll do whatever you tell me to. I don't want to be punished, but if you think I should be, I'll submit.” I had truly decided I would.

Finally, he nodded, smiled at me, and pulled me into him for a hug. “You weren’t in your right frame of mind,” he said. "I know that now." I nodded, so relieved he understood. And then he said, "I’m not going to punish you.”

You guys, I sobbed. I was so emotionally exhausted. It had been a very trying day.


He brought me upstairs and helped me get ready for bed. I fell asleep almost instantly, after a very short time with Jason.

I can type again now. I’m still not fully recovered, but every day I get better and better. It’s remarkable how quickly the human body can heal. I’m being careful not to overdo. And things with Jason and I are back to normal.

Somehow, after all that? I've been in a very submissive frame of mind, even during my most hormonal times (when I'm usually kind of a lunatic). I've obeyed him, and followed his lead, and submitted.  He didn't punish me, but knowing that he would, and knowing that he didn't, knowing that he loved me and wanted what was best for me... well, there's nothing that will make me want to obey him more. I didn't need to go over his lap to get me there. 

I decided after some thought that I needed to share this story, because it’s just another one of those real-life example of how things don’t always work as planned. Sometimes, we don’t really know how to handle things. But when we focus on open communication, truly listening to each other, eventually, always… peace reigns.




Sunday, October 1, 2017

"Over my knee."

Last week, I was so out of sorts. I felt irritable and grumpy, and couldn’t figure out why. I was snappy and angry, and just so, so out of sorts.

Jason listened as I complained about a few things bothering me, nodded his head, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I see,” he said, nodding and listening. “Hmmm. Right. Be right back.” And he sent the kids outside to play, came back, and shut the door.

“I don’t want to be spanked,” I said, since it was pretty clear to me where this was headed.

He merely gave me the raised-eyebrow and crooked a silent finger at me, and I knew there was no turning back. So I dragged my feet, walked on over to him, and he pointed to the floor. I knelt.

“You’ve been very out of sorts lately,” he said, and I nodded.
It’s been an emotionally trying few weeks.

“You need to be spanked.” I squirmed a bit, but at this point he wasn’t taking no for an answer. He unbuckled his belt, fisted the buckle, and put me over his knee.

I did not want to be spanked. I’d already been spanked a good deal that week. And even though I’d been irritable I didn’t really  break any rules. And it’s hard to take a spanking when I wasn’t being punished.

He didn’t lecture. He merely held me in place and spanked me, hard. I pushed and fought and kicked my legs, because it hurt like hell, and he ordered me to stop squirming, so I did my very best, but it wasn’t a very good job.

On and on he went. It wasn’t severe but it hurt, and he was unrelenting.

And then something happened. Something inside me loosened, and I began to cry.

I sniffled into the bed and swiped at my eyes, but it all just came out, and that’s when he talked.

“Good girl. Let it out.”

I didn’t even know I needed to.

I’d been holding out on a good cry for a while, shoving down my emotions, so very many things that affected my emotions, my peace. And because I had so many things to do, I hadn’t really let myself tap into that well of emotions.

I’d tried to. Things were much better with Jason after our hard talk and difficult transition recently. He was hard on me, and I needed that, but I didn’t know how badly I needed the emotional release.
When we first started this, I needed stress relief on a regular basis. But as the years went on, my need for sexy spanking and stress relief wore off. Our rules became tighter. His expectations for me rose, as did my needs. He spanked me hard, and he spanked me regularly, but they were nearly all either discipline or something that reminded me of my place.

It’s been five years of consistent Dom/sub roles now, though, and things have shifted. Erotic spanking doesn’t cut it for me much anymore. Stress relief wasn’t needed since we checked in so regularly. And punishment became rarer.

Jason reminded me this week that the fall is a hard time for us. His work schedule is intense. For me, because of the shift in schedules and demands on our family’s time, I have to stay focused and on top of things. With a large, bustling family, the needs of our kids are hugely important. And now that I manage my career, I’m constantly having to tap into my dominant side.

It isn’t easy. And I find the “switching” from a dominant role to a more submissive one is so very difficult. I don’t do it easily. I love, love, love when I’m in my place. When my mind is cleared and he’s in charge. When I’m his little girl, eager to please, my attitude soft and compliant. But now it is so, so much harder to get there, and my natural inclination is to fight it.

When he spanks me, I ask him to stop far sooner than I need him to. It hurts, and in the moment it’s hard to see that this is good for me, that I need this.

Fortunately, he sees that… and he knows I need to be brought beyond where I’m comfortable. Taken to a deeper place of submission.

He’s done that over, and over, and over this week. After being spanked to tears last weekend, I felt much lighter, freer even, but I had quite the emotional hangover. I was quiet and a bit introspective. We had a lovely day, but I needed some time to process what had happened.

Just last night, I was tired, and I wanted to go to bed. He sat on a chair across the room and said, “Come here, please.”

I did not want to.

I asked him if I had to, and his tone shifted, and the next thing I knew, I got the stern look. “Young lady, now.”





So I obeyed. And he told me what I know is the truth, but it was hard to hear. “You’re way too busy taking charge of things, and it’s time I reminded you of your place. Over my knee.”

Those words...they stop me in my tracks. I know there's nothing else to do but the one thing he gave me to do. 

With a great deal of reluctance, I did, and did he ever spank me, a seriously thorough hand spanking followed by his belt. I can still feel it, the ache and burn of a really long, intense spanking.

I woke in my submissive place. I feel very quiet, and the words, “yes, daddy,” were easy to say. When I’m in my “take charge” mode, they are not. I know that today, (my planning day) I will prepare for the week ahead.

I have a deadline, a few commitments, work to do, and in a few days I’ll be traveling without Jason. I won’t want to be spanked, but at least now I’m reminded…once again…how much better off I am if I am. Happily Spanked. Submitted. And in my place.

Sunday, September 24, 2017

So. Much. Better.

Last week, I shared about how things are really challengingright now. Those of you who wrote to me and encouraged me to stick it through, I just want to say thank you.

I think I needed to get it out. After I blogged, I cried, and I said to Jason, “will you read this?”


Jason had been so heavily in the “recharge” zone that he’d withdrawn from me, and I was so emotionally overwhelmed myself, I couldn’t do what I normally do in these times – hit the gym, get some extra rest, go out with friends, focus on being grateful, and give him space to come around. It was completely overwhelming me.

Jason read the post and sat on the bed, pretty thoughtful. The first thing he said was, “You did the right thing blogging this.” I had been talking to him about what was going on, and he was aware that things were different, but both of us had pulled back into our own selves, I think.

I think sometimes I take him for granted, that he will meet my needs and be my dominant no matter what, and sometimes he takes me for granted, that I will easily submit and respect his authority over me no matter what. But taking each other for granted doesn’t work.

I’d done my part, honestly. I’d told him how I felt, worked hard at obeying the rules despite the lack of connection with him, and asked him to help. He was quiet about it. I asked him what he thought, and he said that I was right. That things had shifted, that we both knew why, and it was time to do something about it.
 
So we talked… and then, because we're parents, we went about our day. I cooked him his favorite dinner (he loved it), and we took the kids to the park. We held hands, and talked a bit more, then later  we came home and made sure everyone did what they were supposed to before bed. We prepared for the following day and tucked our littlest ones into bed, and when the house was quiet, we talked, alone, again. And talked...

And you might laugh at this – but after much digging and more talking I said something that was really quite obvious. “I think…what I really need is a really good spanking.”

He laughed and said, “Oh, there isn’t a doubt in my mind.” Eep! That's when my heart starts kicking up a bit, because he might look all sweet and loving but that man swings a mean paddle. 

Groan. Spankings hurt, and I might find them sexy, but I don’t find them very easy to take. He took charge, though, something else I needed, and while I gritted my teeth and screwed myself up to get the courage I needed, he locked our door, took off his belt, and came over to me. I'm sure I had a bit of the deer-in-the-headlights look going but it didn't matter... within seconds, he pinned me over his knee.

Yes, it’s sexy remembering. At the time, I really just wanted to run and hide. But I knew I had to face it, that nothing gets me into a good headspace more effectively than a serious spanking, and since I hadn’t done anything to get me in trouble…well, it had to be done. We both knew it.

I didn’t take it easily. Fortunately, he doesn’t much care. It doesn’t matter to him if I squirm and protest and yelp. He just held me tighter, grabbed my hand that flailed back in fruitless self-protection, pinned it down, and gave me one helluva spanking. I cried again, and he held me, and when we were done, I went to bed feeling way better. He gave me some strict rules the next morning, told me he’d be checking in on me, and he has. All week.


We weren’t as busy this week. We’re already falling into a good “new” routine…you know, for now. Until the next bump happens. But hopefully, we’ll be a bit wiser next time.