After J got dressed for work today, we laid together on the bed talking and joking. He told me he wanted me to clean up in our room a little bit today while he was at work. We were going back and forth about something, and I was being quite sassy. I don't do this to be disrespectful or anything of the sort, brattiness is kind of part of my personality. I use it teasingly and J knows that I'm not actually being rude. Well, he looked and me and frowned, saying "I don't like your negative attitude, missy."
I turned up my nose, fighting the smile at my lips and said, "Well change it, then!" My eyes glittered as I stared at him. I love our playful spankings before he leaves, and I assumed that's what I'd be getting.
"Go choose a card," he said, raising an eyebrow, giving me a look that said 'you're not going to win this game,'
My eyebrows flew up. "What! Seriously?" I asked.
He nodded. "Bring them all to me,"
I got up and went to the drawer, taking out the cards I made a few days ago, and brought them to him.
He read them all over again, then fanned them out in his hand and told me to pick one.
I held my finger in front of one for a long time, but was scared to commit to it. At the last second I changed my mind and chose one closer to the end. I plucked it out of his hand and read it, groaning.
75 on each cheek with the five fingered strap, panties on
20 on each cheek with hand, bare
J grinned, taking the card from my hand and going to the drawer. "Go ahead, get over your pillow."
Grumbling, I assumed the position, thanking my lucky stars that I was wearing full panties today.
He told me he was making a change, and came over with a paint mixer we'd be given at the paint store yesterday when we bought the nursery room paint.
I breathed a sigh of relief as he tugged my sweatpants down.
He gave me 75 crisp smacks, but they were nothing compared to the strap. He pointed this out, and reminded me that I was lucky today. I quickly agreed. When the card was fulfilled, we lay together again and he squeezed my bum. "If you don't clean up what I asked you to, you'll be choosing a card for real, tonight." he informed me.
I actually got goosebumps. I promised him I would have it done by the time he got home.
All he said was, "We'll see." Then, he told me he was thinking about making up more cards that I wouldn't be allowed to read before hand, so I would have no idea what they said before choosing one.
I think I've created a monster.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Saturday Spanking to Remember
Saturday nights are set aside for maintenance spankings. These spankings are meant to not only "re-define" our roles, but also to keep me leveled. If I go too long without a spanking, I start to get out of balance. Saturday nights are to make sure that even when I'm being good, I don't go too long without having my need fulfilled.
J worked all day yesterday, capitalizing on all the snow we've been having and shoveling off a roof. He was just getting ready to head home when I called him to let him know that we had water coming in from the ceiling, so when he finally did get home, he had to get up on our roof again and chisel the ice away.
I slept while he was on the roof. I've been absolutely wiped out lately. I guess that comes with the territory of being 26 weeks pregnant, although I thought you weren't supposed to be this tired til the third trimester. I cant imagine what I'm going to feel like in a month!
When J finished our roof, he softly woke me up and asked if he could take me to dinner. I happily agreed, especially because I didn't feel like cooking ;)
We had a lovely dinner together, and I was happy to be able to spend some time alone with him. We talked about our days, and decided to pick the colors for the nursery when we got home. When we got home, we picked the colors, and watched Toy Story on tv before going to bed . He beat me to the bedroom as I had to use the bathroom before retiring. He was sitting on the bed, and had my pillow already in the middle of it. Beside him, I saw the hairbrush. My heart started beating fast. We hadn't used the hairbrush in quite a long time, and I hadn't missed it.
"Can I keep my pajama pants on?" I asked.
"For a minute," he nodded.
I climbed up onto the pillow and adjusted myself. I felt him pat my butt two or three times with the brush, then he started tugging my pants down.
"Seriously? That was all?" I sighed, standing up so I could take my pants off. Re-settling over the pillow, I braced myself.
He used the brush generously, definitely not taking it easy on me. After a minute or two of well placed swats, he announced he'd be giving me 75 on each cheek. They came hard and at a medium pace. By the end of the set I was experiencing dry sobs, the step before tears for me. Breathing hard, my butt stinging, I lay still over the pillow, waiting for him to let me up. Instead, he told me after this break I'd be getting another 50 on each. I was filled with horror, but didn't argue. I whimpered and just lay waiting. "Don't put your hands back here again." he ordered. The next set rained down on my warm, stinging skin. My feet drummed on the bed and I fought with all my might to keep my hands in front of me. I cried out, and bit my pillow as tears broke free and rolled down my cheeks. When he finally finished the 50, he got up and went to the drawer. I filled with dread. Usually, when he's finished, he'll set whatever implement he's got in his hand next to the bed and hold me. Going to the drawer meant he probably wasn't done. I watched him put the brush away, and take the five fingered strap out. I started crying harder, the thought of having to take more on my burning butt making me feel weak. He sat beside me again, rubbing me gently. "I'm going to give you a break," he whispered. "Then you're going to get 60 on each with the strap and we'll be done. Okay?" I didn't answer, just cried into my pillow. His hand felt good on my scorched flesh, rubbing and squeezing a little. I didn't want him to take his hand away, ever. But, after only a few short minutes, he did. Without a word, he started with the first 60 on my right side. It almost felt good, the leather on my hot skin. It stung but not like the wood did. Then after the first 30, it hurt again. Bad. I just lay there, resigned to my fate, sobbing. The last 60 hurt even worse than the right set, but I still didn't squirm. Just cried. When J finished, he pulled me into his arms and kissed my head, asking me if I was okay. I haven't cried that much from a spanking in a long time. I'm really not sure why I did last night. All I know is once it was over and I was in his arms, I felt good. I felt connected to him, loved and safe. I assured him I was fine, even if I was more sensitive than usual.
Well, it's Superbowl Sunday, and I've got to admit, it's not nearly as exciting when the Patriots aren't in it. I really could care less about the game, but J's mother and father are coming over tonight to watch it with us, and have dinner together. Meaning I should probably get off my computer and clean up a little bit before I have to start cooking. Happy Sunday! :)
J worked all day yesterday, capitalizing on all the snow we've been having and shoveling off a roof. He was just getting ready to head home when I called him to let him know that we had water coming in from the ceiling, so when he finally did get home, he had to get up on our roof again and chisel the ice away.
I slept while he was on the roof. I've been absolutely wiped out lately. I guess that comes with the territory of being 26 weeks pregnant, although I thought you weren't supposed to be this tired til the third trimester. I cant imagine what I'm going to feel like in a month!
When J finished our roof, he softly woke me up and asked if he could take me to dinner. I happily agreed, especially because I didn't feel like cooking ;)
We had a lovely dinner together, and I was happy to be able to spend some time alone with him. We talked about our days, and decided to pick the colors for the nursery when we got home. When we got home, we picked the colors, and watched Toy Story on tv before going to bed . He beat me to the bedroom as I had to use the bathroom before retiring. He was sitting on the bed, and had my pillow already in the middle of it. Beside him, I saw the hairbrush. My heart started beating fast. We hadn't used the hairbrush in quite a long time, and I hadn't missed it.
"Can I keep my pajama pants on?" I asked.
"For a minute," he nodded.
I climbed up onto the pillow and adjusted myself. I felt him pat my butt two or three times with the brush, then he started tugging my pants down.
"Seriously? That was all?" I sighed, standing up so I could take my pants off. Re-settling over the pillow, I braced myself.
He used the brush generously, definitely not taking it easy on me. After a minute or two of well placed swats, he announced he'd be giving me 75 on each cheek. They came hard and at a medium pace. By the end of the set I was experiencing dry sobs, the step before tears for me. Breathing hard, my butt stinging, I lay still over the pillow, waiting for him to let me up. Instead, he told me after this break I'd be getting another 50 on each. I was filled with horror, but didn't argue. I whimpered and just lay waiting. "Don't put your hands back here again." he ordered. The next set rained down on my warm, stinging skin. My feet drummed on the bed and I fought with all my might to keep my hands in front of me. I cried out, and bit my pillow as tears broke free and rolled down my cheeks. When he finally finished the 50, he got up and went to the drawer. I filled with dread. Usually, when he's finished, he'll set whatever implement he's got in his hand next to the bed and hold me. Going to the drawer meant he probably wasn't done. I watched him put the brush away, and take the five fingered strap out. I started crying harder, the thought of having to take more on my burning butt making me feel weak. He sat beside me again, rubbing me gently. "I'm going to give you a break," he whispered. "Then you're going to get 60 on each with the strap and we'll be done. Okay?" I didn't answer, just cried into my pillow. His hand felt good on my scorched flesh, rubbing and squeezing a little. I didn't want him to take his hand away, ever. But, after only a few short minutes, he did. Without a word, he started with the first 60 on my right side. It almost felt good, the leather on my hot skin. It stung but not like the wood did. Then after the first 30, it hurt again. Bad. I just lay there, resigned to my fate, sobbing. The last 60 hurt even worse than the right set, but I still didn't squirm. Just cried. When J finished, he pulled me into his arms and kissed my head, asking me if I was okay. I haven't cried that much from a spanking in a long time. I'm really not sure why I did last night. All I know is once it was over and I was in his arms, I felt good. I felt connected to him, loved and safe. I assured him I was fine, even if I was more sensitive than usual.
Well, it's Superbowl Sunday, and I've got to admit, it's not nearly as exciting when the Patriots aren't in it. I really could care less about the game, but J's mother and father are coming over tonight to watch it with us, and have dinner together. Meaning I should probably get off my computer and clean up a little bit before I have to start cooking. Happy Sunday! :)
Friday, February 4, 2011
Me and my darn mouth!
Lately, I've been sending J blog entries that I particularly like/relate to, and he's been reading them. Well, brilliant me had to go and send him one that had an idea in it that he liked just a little too much. This afternoon, we were making lunch together and I playfully said something sassy. He then informed me smugly that he wanted me to make "punishment cards" detailing specific punishments. (Thanks Audra! ;p ) I thought he was kidding! Nope.
He told me I was to make up seven cards. They were to detail specific implements, number of swats or minutes with each implement, and severity. "They're not going to be used every time, but we'll keep them in the punishment drawer and I'll tell you when you need to choose one." I nodded, still shocked into silence. He went on to say, "However you might just be choosing one tonight."
"What! Why?" I pouted.
He looked at the coffee table, covered in papers, dvds, and books, among other things. "Didn't I ask you to do something a few days ago?" he asked.
I nodded.
"Did you do it?" he asked.
"No sir," I answered quietly.
He nodded his head, a tight lipped smile on his face. "Huh. There's a chance for slight redemption, but even if you clean it today, you're not going to be off the hook." he informed me, reaching over and lacing his fingers with mine.
I blushed, not used to him being this forward about being in control. When he got up to get changed for work, I followed him into our bedroom like I usually do. I like to steal kisses and gentle touches while he's changing ;)
When he took his shirt off, I hugged him, pressing my face against his bare chest. I love the feeling of his warm skin against my face. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back, kissing me on the lips. "Don't forget those cards," he reminded me, and reached down to squeeze my butt. Then he turned me around and bent me over, telling me to put my hands on the bed. He gave me a dozen smacks and reminded me to clear the empty water bottles off the bedside table, then let me back up. After he finished changing, he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on the top of my head. I soaked the moment in, because I really cherish these moments we have together before he leaves for the night.
Once I was alone, I started trying to brainstorm for the cards. Well, I was just stumped! I never imagined how hard it would be to create punishments for myself, until I tried to do it. I emailed back and forth with Audra for a bit to try to get some ideas, and she gave me plenty of good ones! I sat down and tried again to write some up, but was still at a loss. We have a variety of implements, and I couldn't figure out how to some how to incorporate the majority of them. Plus, I have a pretty high tolerance, and most of our play spankings are pretty extended so trying to figure out numbers of swats and times for punishment was difficult. I texted J and confessed I was having a hard time making the cards.
How come? What's troublesome? he asked.
Idk! I cant think of anything. I don't know how long, or how hard, etc. It's hard to come up with punishments for myself!
Being the sympathetic husband he is, he replied, Isn't that the point?
Ugh. I dont know how to make a pouty face via text but if I did I would soooo send you one right now!
He wasn't impressed with that. You don't want me to have to make them out, do ya?
Okay, okay. Point taken. So we decided I'd write out some ideas, and send them to him and he'd let me know if I was on the right track. He seemed pleased with what I sent him, and he told me to put them into the drawer for future use.
So, the cards are resting in the drawer with the dreaded implements that could be used to deliever the punishment. They are all pretty wicked in and of themselves, but for most cards there are a set of swats with one, two or three of the implements. And see that little tub of cream resting on that holey paddle? Thats called "spank me cream". It came in a sexy spanking kit that we bought at Spencer Gifts. IT MAKES YOUR SKIN BURN! Especially when applied over a spanked bottom. Yup-you guessed it! That made its way into the cards, too. Oh boy. I'm beginning to think I'm in over my head now...wish me luck!
He told me I was to make up seven cards. They were to detail specific implements, number of swats or minutes with each implement, and severity. "They're not going to be used every time, but we'll keep them in the punishment drawer and I'll tell you when you need to choose one." I nodded, still shocked into silence. He went on to say, "However you might just be choosing one tonight."
"What! Why?" I pouted.
He looked at the coffee table, covered in papers, dvds, and books, among other things. "Didn't I ask you to do something a few days ago?" he asked.
I nodded.
"Did you do it?" he asked.
"No sir," I answered quietly.
He nodded his head, a tight lipped smile on his face. "Huh. There's a chance for slight redemption, but even if you clean it today, you're not going to be off the hook." he informed me, reaching over and lacing his fingers with mine.
I blushed, not used to him being this forward about being in control. When he got up to get changed for work, I followed him into our bedroom like I usually do. I like to steal kisses and gentle touches while he's changing ;)
When he took his shirt off, I hugged him, pressing my face against his bare chest. I love the feeling of his warm skin against my face. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back, kissing me on the lips. "Don't forget those cards," he reminded me, and reached down to squeeze my butt. Then he turned me around and bent me over, telling me to put my hands on the bed. He gave me a dozen smacks and reminded me to clear the empty water bottles off the bedside table, then let me back up. After he finished changing, he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on the top of my head. I soaked the moment in, because I really cherish these moments we have together before he leaves for the night.
Once I was alone, I started trying to brainstorm for the cards. Well, I was just stumped! I never imagined how hard it would be to create punishments for myself, until I tried to do it. I emailed back and forth with Audra for a bit to try to get some ideas, and she gave me plenty of good ones! I sat down and tried again to write some up, but was still at a loss. We have a variety of implements, and I couldn't figure out how to some how to incorporate the majority of them. Plus, I have a pretty high tolerance, and most of our play spankings are pretty extended so trying to figure out numbers of swats and times for punishment was difficult. I texted J and confessed I was having a hard time making the cards.
How come? What's troublesome? he asked.
Idk! I cant think of anything. I don't know how long, or how hard, etc. It's hard to come up with punishments for myself!
Being the sympathetic husband he is, he replied, Isn't that the point?
Ugh. I dont know how to make a pouty face via text but if I did I would soooo send you one right now!
He wasn't impressed with that. You don't want me to have to make them out, do ya?
Okay, okay. Point taken. So we decided I'd write out some ideas, and send them to him and he'd let me know if I was on the right track. He seemed pleased with what I sent him, and he told me to put them into the drawer for future use.
Friday, January 28, 2011
The healing of a good spanking
Last night was just horrible. I couldn't sleep. Every year, I dread falling asleep on January 27 because I abhorr waking up on January 28th. In 2005, I woke up to the sound of soft crying in the living room, where my mother had been laying in a hospital bad for the past few days. Her organs were shutting down, and the doctors told us she'd have about two weeks to live. As soon as I heard the crying, I felt sick to my stomach. I knew that something just wasn't right and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to pretend for just a few more minutes that nothing had changed. Then my dad came in my room and shook me awake, and said, "She's gone." That moment plays in my head each year when I wake up on this day. So needless to say last night I was fighting sleep, afraid to have to wake up and relive that again.
I lay next to J, staring at the wall. I could feel his eyes watching me, and he rolled over, putting his arm around me and kissing my forehead. I wanted to just pour my heart out, but I've kept it all in for so long, I couldn't let it out. He sat up and since I was already laying on my side, he started swatting me. I gripped his arm. "Ow," I moaned. He leaned down next to my ear and said, "I'm going to get the strap. I think you need a spanking." he murmured. I just blinked at him, thinking that he'd read my mind! I arranged my pillow and laid over it like a good girl while he went to the drawer and got the strap. He came back and sat beside me, pulling my shorts down. He applied the strap liberally, stopping after about five minutes to allow me to regain my composure and to give me a little break. After my break he gave me quite the strapping, which had me sobbing into my pillow. He pulled me into his arms and I cried for a bit longer, finally releasing all the bad feelings that I'd locked inside. Afterwards, I felt SOOO much better. There's something about a good spanking that just puts me in an even headspace. I was able to fall into a deep sleep, managed somehow not to have nightmares, and woke up feeling relatively good, considering. I can honestly say the spanking made all the difference.
I lay next to J, staring at the wall. I could feel his eyes watching me, and he rolled over, putting his arm around me and kissing my forehead. I wanted to just pour my heart out, but I've kept it all in for so long, I couldn't let it out. He sat up and since I was already laying on my side, he started swatting me. I gripped his arm. "Ow," I moaned. He leaned down next to my ear and said, "I'm going to get the strap. I think you need a spanking." he murmured. I just blinked at him, thinking that he'd read my mind! I arranged my pillow and laid over it like a good girl while he went to the drawer and got the strap. He came back and sat beside me, pulling my shorts down. He applied the strap liberally, stopping after about five minutes to allow me to regain my composure and to give me a little break. After my break he gave me quite the strapping, which had me sobbing into my pillow. He pulled me into his arms and I cried for a bit longer, finally releasing all the bad feelings that I'd locked inside. Afterwards, I felt SOOO much better. There's something about a good spanking that just puts me in an even headspace. I was able to fall into a deep sleep, managed somehow not to have nightmares, and woke up feeling relatively good, considering. I can honestly say the spanking made all the difference.
Friday, January 21, 2011
one of those days
I told J that although I hated to admit it, that I really needed a spanking. He agreed, I'd been really down lately and he'd noticed that I was starting to withdraw into myself. He promised that when he got home from work, I'd get the spanking I needed.
Yesterday was just one of those days. Next week marks the sixth anniversary of my mothers passing. It's hard to believe that six years have gone by since the day that she left us all. The wounds still feel fresh and raw, and contrary to what everyone told me, it has not gotten better with time. Over time, I finished highschool and never got to see my moms face in the crowd when I walked across the stage to collect my diploma. I started dating my now husband, and never got to get her opinion of him (though I know she would love him), or giggle to her excitedly about him at the beginning of our relationship before I knew where we were going in life. Over those six years, I got married to the most wonderful man in the world, and my mother wasn't there to experience her first born being united with the person that completes me. My sister graduated highschool, and my mom didnt get to tell her how proud she was that she'd worked so hard. I got pregnant, and have to miss out on hearing first hand stories about how my mom felt when she was pregnant with me, what it was like for her to have her first child. I cant call her up and ask her for advice or if I'm worried about nothing. It seems that instead of getting better, the years that pass only remind me more of what should have been. Sometimes, I feel like the lost 16 year old I was when my mom passed away, not knowing where or who to turn to. After she passed away, my dad acted like we shouldn't be affected by the loss of our mother. It was easier for him to avoid the situation and pretend everything was okay than to deal with the raw emotion of it all (especially of us four kids). I knew that this was unhealthy and being the oldest, I stepped in to bear the brunt of the emotional pain for my siblings. I listened to them and their fears and assured them that we could get through it together and that things would be okay. That left me unable to unload my feelings on anyone. After so long of bottling up my feelings about losing her, it's impossible for me to express how I feel about it. I havent been able to admit aloud that I miss her, maybe because I fear that I will lose control of my emotion and not know how to shut it off.
When he did get home, he showered and we laid together in bed for awhile. He held me close to him and we talked a little, and watched tv. He asked me what I wanted him to use, and I didn't respond. Now that it was coming down to the time of the spanking I was starting to feel apprehensive, like maybe I'd make a mistake asking for this. Without missing a beat, he informed me that he knew what he wanted to use, but he didn't want me to know until I felt it. That made me feel even more nervous but I kind of had an idea what he had in mind. "You need a good one," he murmured into my hair and I nodded, because as nervous as I was about it, I really did.
He announced that it was time, and patted my maternity pillow. (This pillow is so perfect for spanking, its a giant "U" shaped pillow, so lay my thighs across the bottom of the "u" and squeeze the other 'arms' beneath me, which leaves an open pocket for my belly). As I positioned myself over it, he got up and went to the drawer. I buried my face and just waited. He tugged my shorts down and tapped my bottom with the implement he'd chosen and I knew it was leather. I whimpered but didn't say anything. I can't figure out why everyone thinks that leather is nicer than wood but I DISAGREE! That man wielding leather is a scary thing. He rubbed my back and said, "For the first set we're going to do 50 on each cheek and then I'll give you a break." He started on the right cheek and at first I bucked beneath the sting but began to focus on breathing and just rolling with the pain and it didn't hurt so bad. It was actually pretty tolerable, and I started to feel good about it. The left fifty was just like this and when he finished those he rubbed my bottom, squeezing and massaging. "Now we're gonna do 60 and 60," he announced. These were harder to take, but the pain was managable. I put my hands back a couple times and I thought about asking him to use something else if there were going to be more, but reminded myself that he was in charge, and the five fingered strap was what he'd chosen, and I'd just have to accept that. When he'd finished the 60 on each, he stopped but only momentarily. This break wasn't as long as the previous one, and when he told me that I'd be getting 75 on each I felt like I might just cry right then. "If you put your hands back I'm going to add another one each time." He started on the left cheek (the one he just finished the 60 on!) and I couldn't breathe my way through it anymore. I wiggled and drummed my feet on the bed but somehow was able to keep my hands in front of me. I didn't think I could make it through the 75 on the right cheek but I did. When he finished, he lay down beside me and stroked my hair. "I think you're done, right babe?" he whispered. When I didn't say anything, he said, "Does that mean you're not done? Do you need more sweetie?" I shook my head frantically, the tears coming now. He pulled me into his arms and I sobbed while he rubbed my shoulders, and whispered "It's okay baby, cry it out." I snuggled into him and he held me tight, and I felt so close to him that we could be one person. "Do you want me to rub lotion on you?" he asked softly. "Not yet!" I didn't want to leave his arms. We laid together for a long time, and he kissed my shoulders and stroked my hair and made it clear that he loved me more than anything in the world. Finally I was ready, and he got up and got some lotion and rubbed it on my swollen butt. We held hands and kissed and talked for a while before settling into our sides of the bed to sleep (I have to be curled up in my mat. pillow or I wake up every hour).
I can't help that I feel the absence of my mom weighing me down from time to time. I am lucky to have an amazing, loving husband who is strong enough to reach into the churning water when I feel like I'm drowning and pull me out, choking and sputtering, and wrap me in a warm blanket of love until I see the beauty in my life.
Yesterday was just one of those days. Next week marks the sixth anniversary of my mothers passing. It's hard to believe that six years have gone by since the day that she left us all. The wounds still feel fresh and raw, and contrary to what everyone told me, it has not gotten better with time. Over time, I finished highschool and never got to see my moms face in the crowd when I walked across the stage to collect my diploma. I started dating my now husband, and never got to get her opinion of him (though I know she would love him), or giggle to her excitedly about him at the beginning of our relationship before I knew where we were going in life. Over those six years, I got married to the most wonderful man in the world, and my mother wasn't there to experience her first born being united with the person that completes me. My sister graduated highschool, and my mom didnt get to tell her how proud she was that she'd worked so hard. I got pregnant, and have to miss out on hearing first hand stories about how my mom felt when she was pregnant with me, what it was like for her to have her first child. I cant call her up and ask her for advice or if I'm worried about nothing. It seems that instead of getting better, the years that pass only remind me more of what should have been. Sometimes, I feel like the lost 16 year old I was when my mom passed away, not knowing where or who to turn to. After she passed away, my dad acted like we shouldn't be affected by the loss of our mother. It was easier for him to avoid the situation and pretend everything was okay than to deal with the raw emotion of it all (especially of us four kids). I knew that this was unhealthy and being the oldest, I stepped in to bear the brunt of the emotional pain for my siblings. I listened to them and their fears and assured them that we could get through it together and that things would be okay. That left me unable to unload my feelings on anyone. After so long of bottling up my feelings about losing her, it's impossible for me to express how I feel about it. I havent been able to admit aloud that I miss her, maybe because I fear that I will lose control of my emotion and not know how to shut it off.
When he did get home, he showered and we laid together in bed for awhile. He held me close to him and we talked a little, and watched tv. He asked me what I wanted him to use, and I didn't respond. Now that it was coming down to the time of the spanking I was starting to feel apprehensive, like maybe I'd make a mistake asking for this. Without missing a beat, he informed me that he knew what he wanted to use, but he didn't want me to know until I felt it. That made me feel even more nervous but I kind of had an idea what he had in mind. "You need a good one," he murmured into my hair and I nodded, because as nervous as I was about it, I really did.
He announced that it was time, and patted my maternity pillow. (This pillow is so perfect for spanking, its a giant "U" shaped pillow, so lay my thighs across the bottom of the "u" and squeeze the other 'arms' beneath me, which leaves an open pocket for my belly). As I positioned myself over it, he got up and went to the drawer. I buried my face and just waited. He tugged my shorts down and tapped my bottom with the implement he'd chosen and I knew it was leather. I whimpered but didn't say anything. I can't figure out why everyone thinks that leather is nicer than wood but I DISAGREE! That man wielding leather is a scary thing. He rubbed my back and said, "For the first set we're going to do 50 on each cheek and then I'll give you a break." He started on the right cheek and at first I bucked beneath the sting but began to focus on breathing and just rolling with the pain and it didn't hurt so bad. It was actually pretty tolerable, and I started to feel good about it. The left fifty was just like this and when he finished those he rubbed my bottom, squeezing and massaging. "Now we're gonna do 60 and 60," he announced. These were harder to take, but the pain was managable. I put my hands back a couple times and I thought about asking him to use something else if there were going to be more, but reminded myself that he was in charge, and the five fingered strap was what he'd chosen, and I'd just have to accept that. When he'd finished the 60 on each, he stopped but only momentarily. This break wasn't as long as the previous one, and when he told me that I'd be getting 75 on each I felt like I might just cry right then. "If you put your hands back I'm going to add another one each time." He started on the left cheek (the one he just finished the 60 on!) and I couldn't breathe my way through it anymore. I wiggled and drummed my feet on the bed but somehow was able to keep my hands in front of me. I didn't think I could make it through the 75 on the right cheek but I did. When he finished, he lay down beside me and stroked my hair. "I think you're done, right babe?" he whispered. When I didn't say anything, he said, "Does that mean you're not done? Do you need more sweetie?" I shook my head frantically, the tears coming now. He pulled me into his arms and I sobbed while he rubbed my shoulders, and whispered "It's okay baby, cry it out." I snuggled into him and he held me tight, and I felt so close to him that we could be one person. "Do you want me to rub lotion on you?" he asked softly. "Not yet!" I didn't want to leave his arms. We laid together for a long time, and he kissed my shoulders and stroked my hair and made it clear that he loved me more than anything in the world. Finally I was ready, and he got up and got some lotion and rubbed it on my swollen butt. We held hands and kissed and talked for a while before settling into our sides of the bed to sleep (I have to be curled up in my mat. pillow or I wake up every hour).
I can't help that I feel the absence of my mom weighing me down from time to time. I am lucky to have an amazing, loving husband who is strong enough to reach into the churning water when I feel like I'm drowning and pull me out, choking and sputtering, and wrap me in a warm blanket of love until I see the beauty in my life.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
a wonderful reminder
While I was watching J get dressed for work, I climbed up on the loveseat, resting my arms on the back of it and looking over my shoulder, winking playfully at him. He came over and put an arm around my waist, and started spanking me with his other hand. After about 10 or so hard whacks, he stopped and said, "Do you remember?"
Well I was baffled. "Remember what?"
He sighed, shaking his head, with a shimmer of a smile in his eye. "I guess not, get back up..." he said, helping me back up. He gave me another 10 hard smacks and said "Do you remember now?"
"What am I supposed to remember? You have to tell me first before I can remember it!" I giggled, having no idea what he was talking about. I rubbed my butt as it was slightly warm now.
"Tsk tsk," he shook his finger. "Get back up," he laughed. He gave me about 20 this time and I was wiggling and laughing.
"NO fair!" I yelped. When he stopped, he asked me again if I remembered, and I said "Yep!"
"Remember what?" he asked.
I shrugged. "I dont know, that your spankings hurt?"
He shook his head, and told me to get back up. He gave me another 10 whacks and then leaned forward, his mouth next to my ear. "Remember how much I love you, baby." he murmured.
I haven't stopped smiling since.
Well I was baffled. "Remember what?"
He sighed, shaking his head, with a shimmer of a smile in his eye. "I guess not, get back up..." he said, helping me back up. He gave me another 10 hard smacks and said "Do you remember now?"
"What am I supposed to remember? You have to tell me first before I can remember it!" I giggled, having no idea what he was talking about. I rubbed my butt as it was slightly warm now.
"Tsk tsk," he shook his finger. "Get back up," he laughed. He gave me about 20 this time and I was wiggling and laughing.
"NO fair!" I yelped. When he stopped, he asked me again if I remembered, and I said "Yep!"
"Remember what?" he asked.
I shrugged. "I dont know, that your spankings hurt?"
He shook his head, and told me to get back up. He gave me another 10 whacks and then leaned forward, his mouth next to my ear. "Remember how much I love you, baby." he murmured.
I haven't stopped smiling since.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
kind of shocked - thoughts please!
I stumbled across a vanilla blog today that has posted on DD. The author was in shock, and wrote about how she felt DD relationships were not only physically, but mentally and emotionally abusive in nature. She also stated that it seemed as if women in the DD lifestyle use it as an excuse to not hold themselves accountable, as they are now accountable to their husbands. She felt as if the submissives lacked self respect and that they are not veiwed as partners in their relationships.
I can't speak for everyone in the DD community, but I feel that I am cherished in my relationship. My husband values my perspectives and feelings and what I have to say about everything. He would never disregard my wishes or hurt me in any way. He has never acted disrepectfully to me. I don't feel that we submissives in DD lack self respect or responsibility. I don't really even know what to say because I am in shock. I felt offended that someone would make these assumptions from reading a few Christian Domestic Discipline blogs. She even acknowledged the fact that the women are willing participants, yet claimed despite this it is still abuse.
I'd like to hear your thoughts on this! I couldn't refrain from commenting and informing her that she was very misguided in her view on DD. Would you have said something or simply moved on?
On a brighter note, things are great with J and I. We talked about how I've been feeling lately and just being able to get everything off my chest has helped immensely.
I can't speak for everyone in the DD community, but I feel that I am cherished in my relationship. My husband values my perspectives and feelings and what I have to say about everything. He would never disregard my wishes or hurt me in any way. He has never acted disrepectfully to me. I don't feel that we submissives in DD lack self respect or responsibility. I don't really even know what to say because I am in shock. I felt offended that someone would make these assumptions from reading a few Christian Domestic Discipline blogs. She even acknowledged the fact that the women are willing participants, yet claimed despite this it is still abuse.
I'd like to hear your thoughts on this! I couldn't refrain from commenting and informing her that she was very misguided in her view on DD. Would you have said something or simply moved on?
On a brighter note, things are great with J and I. We talked about how I've been feeling lately and just being able to get everything off my chest has helped immensely.
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