By Any Other Word

My Bottom Hurts...

2009-10-17T09:38:00.002-04:00

But for the wrong reasons.

I promised an update, and I will be a good girl and deliver. Red and I have been getting by fairly well. He's still struggling with his illness, but his doctors are paying extremely close attention to him since our close call, and he is getting good treatment. All tests are showing that his body is recovering well.

I'm also doing well too. Early in 2009, I think I posted about being diagnosed with hypothyroidism. My treatment for that, a simple pill each morning, has me feeling tons better in a lot of ways.

There is no denying, however, that Red and I have had a crash course in how to manage extreme stress over the past several months. And of course, with Red's health being the issue that it is, our discipline arrangement has taken a back seat. I'm not exactly sure where things stand at the moment, discipline-wise. I've gotten some playful swats, and a couple of light, playful spankings, but no discipline for quite some time.

I know that I've written in the past about how our discipline arrangement helps me emotionally. Having to learn to manage without it has been a challenge, but one that I think I'm finally doing well with. As my energy has improved from the thyroid treatment, I've taken up the sport of running. I've gone from being a person who wouldn't necessarily run even when chased, to someone who runs several miles a day on a regular basis.

I remember when I started to take up running, and I was huffing and puffing my way through my workout, I thought to myself, "This is worse than a spanking. Maybe I'm subconsciously trying to discipline myself."

Well, it turns out that in a way, I have. Thyroid treatment and increased exercise has lead to weight loss, of course. And weight loss has lead to baggy clothing. Baggy clothing rubs against your skin more when you move. Running in panties that are now too big on me has completely chaffed my poor bottom. It now looks and feels like Red went to town on my poor behind, when he never laid a finger on me.

I felt a bit silly as Red lovingly put baby powder on my backside, but he assured me that he loved taking care of my bottom. Then he made me promise to go buy some new clothes, and added, "I don't want to have to spank you when your bottom is like this."

I Love My Lurkers!

2009-10-13T09:30:00.002-04:00

In some ways I'm still more of a lurker than a blogger. It took me years to begin commenting on other blogs, The Punishment Book being my first in January 2007. That being said, even though I am technically a blogger now, my inner lurker is still in control a lot of the time.

It was really difficult for me to post my first comment. I felt like I was trying to introduce myself to the popular crowd, since I posted on a fairly well-known blog written by known bloggers. Having been a huge dork most of my life, introducing myself, especially when it involves a "coming out" of sorts into a "deviant" community (for lack of a better term) was daunting. But what I found was that the people I began commenting to and chatting with were instantly accepting of me, having gone through the same thing at some time in their pasts.

I'm still a terribly shy person. I still suffer from the strong feeling that I have absolutely nothing to contribute and that no one wants to hear what I might have to say. I'm still more of a lurker than a blogger, so I can understand what it feels like to be in your shoes, dear Lurker.

So what I'm trying to say is this. First of all, I appreciate you. For anyone who reads my posts that I am so very insecure about, I appreciate you. I would love to hear from you. If you're ready to delurk, I will welcome you with open arms. Don't be afraid. There are lots of bloggers who participate with Love Our Lurkers Day, and if my blog doesn't tickle your fancy, then I encourage you to delurk on a blog that does. Just know that you are welcome, you are wanted, and you are appreciated.

I love you lurkers!

Lit for DDers, and those with Professor/Student Kinks

2009-10-08T11:43:00.002-04:00

As Red has been working on improving his health, I too have been working on improving myself in a variety of ways. One of these ways, since I am not able to attend school at the time, is to catch up on the 100+ classics that have been sitting untouched on my bookshelves.

I am a student of literature, and have a particular love of Victorian literature. The fact that talk of discipline and such occasionally arises in literature from this time period is not the reason; it is a happy coincidence.

In my recent reading, I discovered a book that would likely be very enjoyable for both DDers, and playful spankos alike. I do not recall reading if another blogger has posted about this book, but if someone has already, my apologies for stepping on your post. No disrespect intended.

Anyhow, the book is The Professor, by Charlotte Bronte. It is about a gentleman named William Crimsworth, who teaches English in Belgium and falls in love with a fellow teacher, Frances Evans Henri, who becomes his pupil.

The following passages are from Chapter 25 of the novel:

"My afternoons were spent also in college, with the exception of an hour that my wife daily exacted of me for her establishment, and with which she would not dispense. She said that I must spend that time amongst her pupils to learn their characters, to be AU COURANT with everything that was passing in the house, to become interested in what interested her, to be able to give her my opinion on knotty points when she required it, and this she did constantly, never allowing my interest in the pupils to fall asleep, and never making any change of importance without my cognizance and consent. She delighted to sit by me when I gave my lessons (lessons in literature), her hands folded on her knee, the most fixedly attentive of any present. She rarely addressed me in class; when she did it was with an air of marked deference; it was her pleasure, her joy to make me still the master in all things."

While I am not the type of woman who would generally call anyone "Master," I found that Frances' continued pattern of addressing Crimsworth as "Master" even once they had clearly transitioned from a professor/student to a spousal relationship, was a thrilling detail for me.

"Talk French to me she would, and many a punishment she has had for her wilfulness. I fear the choice of chastisement must have been injudicious, for instead of correcting the fault, it seemed to encourage its renewal. Our evenings were our own; that recreation was necessary to refresh our strength for the due discharge of our duties; sometimes we spent them all in conversation, and my young Genevese, now that she was thoroughly accustomed to her English professor, now that she loved him too absolutely to fear him much, reposed in him a confidence so unlimited that topics of conversation could no more be wanting with him than subjects for communion with her own heart. In those moments, happy as a bird with its mate, she would show me what she had of vivacity, of mirth, of originality in her well-dowered nature. She would show, too, some stores of raillery, of “malice,” and would vex, tease, pique me sometimes about what she called my “bizarreries anglaises,” my “caprices insulaires,” with a wild and witty wickedness that made a perfect white demon of her while it lasted. This was rare, however, and the elfish freak was always short: sometimes when driven a little hard in the war of words—for her tongue did ample justice to the pith, the point, the delicacy of her native French, in which language she always attacked me—I used to turn upon her with my old decision, and arrest bodily the sprite that teased me. Vain idea! no sooner had I grasped hand or arm than the elf was gone; the provocative smile quenched in the expressive brown eyes, and a ray of gentle homage shone under the lids in its place. I had seized a mere vexing fairy, and found a submissive and supplicating little mortal woman in my arms. Then I made her get a book, and read English to me for an hour by way of penance."

It should be obvious to any DDer/spanko why this passage is one of my favorites in the novel.

While this novel was Bronte's first, and is not her most well-known nor most critically-acclaimed, I certainly enjoyed it. I highly recommend it.

And on a more personal note... Thank you to all who have posted supported messages and/or emailed to inquire how Red and I are doing. Red's health continues to improve, and I've been working to improve myself as well. I will be posting again soon to give a more detailed update. I have not disappeared permanently, and I appreciate those who still stop by and read my infrequent posts. I hope you are all well.

Close Call

2009-08-12T11:20:00.002-04:00

In mid-July, I came way too close to losing Red. I spent a week sleeping in a hospital chair, watching my husband sleep, listening to machines beep, and praying for various measurements in his blood to go one way or the other.

We got lucky. The doctors say there is an excellent chance that there will be no lasting damage to Red, though if we'd waited just a couple more hours to go to the ER, I'd be posting something much much different right now.

What happened? Well, I won't post the name of the drug, because I don't want to freak anyone out, and I don't want to get sued by the company. But Red took a very common over-the-counter pain killer, and turned out to be the one-person-in-a-million who has those horrible adverse reactions they list in the commercials that most people ignore. His kidneys shut down. His heart nearly stopped. All because his foot hurt and he popped a pill.

I had a lot of time to think while I was sitting in that hospital chair. Though most of it didn't relate directly to DD, in a lot of ways, it related indirectly, so I thought it worth posting here.

The thing about Red is that he's a pretty private guy, and not many people know him very well. If they did, they'd know that no matter what assumptions you make about the guy, you're probably wrong.

For example, Red is physically the kind of spanker-man about whom most women with our particular preferences would dream. He's a big guy, even "larger than life" in some ways, and when he wants me to go somewhere (such as the bedroom for a nap, a spanking, or something else), he has no trouble getting me there. He's both an immovable object and an irresistable force when he wants to be. He seems unstoppable.

Because of his appearance, most people assume he's a meat and potatoes kind of man. But Red doesn't eat red meat. Red doesn't eat fried foods, fatty foods. He has a rather conservative diet.

Because of his incredible knowledge (Red is at the top of his field and has been becoming rather well known in his area of work), people assume that he knows everything. And sometimes I think so too. They'd never guess that Red has an incredible weakness when it comes to figurative speech. It quite frequently happens that Red needs to come to me after speaking to a client and ask me what a certain commonly-used metaphor means.

People also assume that Red is, just as he calls himself, "insensitive and uncaring." This may be true about some things, but Red has revealed himself to me over the years to be one of the most sensitive people I've ever met. The same man who warned me that we would not go through extreme and costly measures to save an animal's life when we adopted our first dog is now going through hell and high water to keep the poor, elderly, senile creature alive.

I tell you all of this to try to give you an idea of what it was like for me to watch this powerful man made helpless, and dependent upon machines and medicines to save his life. It is easy, and often pleasurable for me, to feel helpless and dependant on him, because he is so much larger and stronger than I am. I feel vulnerable around him. He is older and more experienced than I am. I rely on him quite a bit. I let myself believe that he's every bit as unstoppable as he seems.

But suddenly I found myself being the much stronger of the two. A little pill that has little to no effect on me, damn near killed him.

The fact is that despite all appearances, in the end Red is every bit as vulnerable as I am. He is my foundation because he chooses to be, and I can believe him to be unstoppable because he lets me. And I simply cannot take that for granted.

I am a very lucky woman to have Red with me. We're both lucky that his doctors are so capable and that the treatments have been so successful. Red has been getting stronger every day, and has even felt strong enough to threaten me with spankings for various minor misdeeds. And while I, of course, argue that I should not be spanked, I can help but feel so very grateful that he's strong enough to make the threat, and getting strong enough to follow through.

Coming Around

2009-07-03T11:16:00.002-04:00

Shortly after my last post in March, Red and I entered marriage counseling. Though we're not talking about DD with our therapist, it is pretty clear to me that some aspects of DD have strengthened our relationship. For example, our therapist is extremely impressed with our communication skills. In our first couple of sessions, after Red would tell her something, she'd look at me and ask, "did you know about this? Have you talked about this before?" It only took a couple of sessions for her to figure out that there is nothing that Red and I haven't told each other. There have been no shocking revelations between us in therapy. I think we're a challenge for her... she mentioned to me that most couples use therapy to learn how to communicate, but since Red and I clearly already know how to communicate, we're way ahead of the game.

On the other hand, our DD is still on hold. I asked Red a couple of weeks ago if we were returning to it. He said he wanted to "earn it back." So we're both earning it back.

In the meantime, I've been working like crazy on figuring myself out. Red and I have our challenges... some pretty big ones, since we've both had rough pasts. I wish I could go into more detail, since I'm sure some of our experiences may help others, but since they aren't really related to spanking or DD, and because I respect Red's privacy, I can't go into them. Anyhow, added to our emotional challenges are our physical challenges... Red has been ill for 2 and 1/2 years now. I was recently diagnosed hypothyroid (which appears to have been causing much of my depression for years), as well as dysautonomia. My treatment involves medication that alters my hormonal balance, which means that I am relearning what makes me tick on a hormonal level. PMS is a bit more severe for me now, but also a bit more predictable, so it is all a matter of learning how to deal with it.

I'm also trying to get my spanking mojo back. I know it is around here somewhere. I think when Red and I were starting to have some of our most serious conflicts, I pushed that part of myself aside in order to cope. I simply have not been able to take it back on yet. I feared for a while that I'd somehow inadvertently "cured" my spanko-hood. But after a serious case of the spankin' hornies came around a week or so ago, I have faith that it will return in time.

Anyhow, I just wanted to let anyone who might still read my blog know that Red and I are coming around. We're piecing things back together and will hopefully be in a position to start implementing DD again soon.

It's Over

2009-03-24T13:20:00.003-04:00

In a screaming match today, Red and I ended our discipline arrangement. Or rather, perhaps, we acknowledged that it was already over. I'm not sure the difference matters, if there is one.

I don't know what this means for me, for Red, or for this blog. I'm kind of a mess right now and I'm trying not to think too much about anything. It's just easier not to think if I don't have to.

To DD, or Not To DD

2009-03-12T17:14:00.003-04:00

I should start this by admitting that there are numerous holes in my logic, and I'm feeling incredibly frustrated and therefore I'm somewhat irrational. I know that. Having gotten that out of the way, here is what is going on.

It has been a very rotten health month for both Red and me. Red still has his illness, and I've been diagnosed not only with hypothyroidism, but also neurocardiogenic syncope. That's a fancy medical term for "faints frequently." I had a tilt table test about a week ago which I "failed" spectacularly. Not only did I pass out remarkably fast, but I had almost no warning signs (such as nausea, or something like that).

I've been fainting fairly regularly. I figure it is because of stress. The doctor gave me medicine to help stop the fainting, but the side effects were even worse than the fainting, so I had to stop taking it. In the mean time, I'm not supposed to be driving. The doctor said nothing about not doing other things, but Red is with me regularly, so I haven't been allowed to do much.

I am absolutely crawling out of my skin. The weather is finally getting nicer, and I am absolutely DYING to pull down my Christmas lights, but Red would pop a vessel if he caught me on a ladder. I've been trying to get smaller things done around the house, but I've fallen over several times from dizziness. It seems that this past week the only thing I've been able to do is sit on the sofa and watch television.

Red has been doing his best to deal with his illness and has been working his sick butt off to please his clients who are all clammoring for his help. I suppose we are fortunate that his business is increasing as so many others are experiencing a decrease in business. We're struggliing with bills, particularly medical bills, so we can't afford to turn away the work. But I'm having a really difficult time with the lack of attention. His energy goes either to dealing with his illness or dealing with his work. It seems to me that he only finds time enough for me when he is telling me not to do something.

There has been no spanking. There has been very little intimacy. I feel absolutely useless to my poor husband and I'm going NUTS because I can't seem to do anything to help. But I know that if I exert myself much I'm likely to faint or at least lose my balance and fall over.

The thing is, as much as I know Red is right in telling me not to do this or that, I really REALLY don't want to listen to him. And if DD in our marriage is only going to mean that he gets to boss me around and I have to listen to him without getting any of my emotional needs met, then I really want no part of it. I definitely do not want a divorce, so please don't think that is where I'm going with what I'm about to say... It's just that I've been thinking a lot lately about how much easier it was when I was single. I got to do my own thing, make all my own decisions, and somehow I managed to survive just fine. Why is it now that I'm married and have a partner to "support" me that I feel so damn unstable?

I've Got Some 'Splaining To Do

2009-02-07T17:45:00.003-05:00

I have not meant to go so long between posts. I am still alive, and I appreciate everyone who has been checking in with me from time to time. I regret that I don't have sexier things to post about, but I figure I ought to post an update so you'll all understand what has been going on with me.

Regarding my previous post regarding bipolar disorder - there is a good chance that the diagnosis is wrong. The psychiatrist who I saw has turned out to be spectacularly unprofessional, to the point that Red and I are having to file a complaint against him with the medical licensing board. I'd go into further detail, but it is really an appalling situation and it really isn't the purpose of this blog to provide a platform for me to vent about incompetent doctors.

Red and I have been in a kind of holding pattern. He is still ill, and lately I have been having some alarming symptoms of illness and have been undergoing a number of tests myself. I am ok - it is unlikely that what is going on is life-threatening, but there is a serious possibility that my issues with depression have been caused by hormonal imbalances that are now causing some cardiac symptoms as well. I wish I could explain more, and hope to soon, but right now I simply don't know enough. I'm supposed to see my primary care physician in the coming week to talk about some results of the tests that I've recently undergone.

Do Red and I still have a discipline relationship? I suppose so, but currently all we can manage are the occasional swat delivered in passing. Our focus has simply shifted to survival issues.

Where does that leave this blog? I never intended for it stagnate the way I've allowed it to in the recent past. My desire to reach out has been hampered (with respects to this blog) by my desire to not allow the scope of this blog to shift too drastically away from my discipline relationship, the reality that right now Red and I have been unable to actually practice discipline within our relationship, and my need to maintain a reasonable degree of anonymity on this blog. In other words, there hasn't been much spanking to talk about around here lately, and I don't want to bore you all with the mundane and all-too-specific and personal details of our RL situation.

That's all the news that is fit to print for now. Again, thank you to those who have expressed concern. I fully intend to continue this blog, and I hope that my readers will continue to check in on me from time to time.

Happy New Year!

2009-01-01T13:03:00.002-05:00

I hope that the New Year is finding you all well. 2008 has been an interesting and difficult year for Red and I. His illness has had him in constant pain, and my illness has had me completely confused about myself. But that is not really what I want to focus on right now.

New Year's is a bittersweet time for me. There is all the joy and freshness of a New Year starting and the relief of putting a difficult year behind me. But there are also memories of New Years past. One in particular. I lost my stepfather on New Year's day several years ago. He actually died on January 2nd, but had an aortic dissection on the evening of the 1st. My mother rushed him to the local hospital where we had to wait for a team of heart surgeons to be assembled. Staffing was low because of the holiday, but we were told that because of the specialists needed, we would have had to wait for them all to come together anyway.

He survived the surgery, but because he'd died on the table a couple of times and had to be revived, his brain swelled and there was nothing more that we could do.

Every New Year's day since, my memories of that time come back just like it happened yesterday. But the thing is, his death was not as sad as it could have been. His death was what caused his family to learn of a dangerous genetic illness that several of them have. His brother was saved the same month after he learned that his own aorta was at the crisis point. One of the doctor's told him that he could have died the same week as his brother. His sister, who was pregnant at the time, also learned that her aorta was in trouble, and this knowledge not only saved her, but enabled her to safely deliver her beautiful daughter.

If my stepfather hadn't died, his brother might have left his two small children fatherless, and his sister might have died in childbirth.

I guess I tell this story not only to remember him on this anniversary, but also to show that endings, even painful tragic ones, are still new beginnings. Sometimes in the midst of pain that is difficult to see.

I hope that all of your new beginnings bring happiness and health to you this new year. My best to you all.

Diagnoses

2008-11-24T10:46:00.002-05:00

The past couple of weeks have been overwhelming, but I suppose positive in a way. Red and I have both been diagnosed. His diagnosis has been long-anticipated, as he's been ill for nearly two years now. Mine was quite unexpected. Both are life-long.

Red has been diagnosed with IBS. It took quite a while for our doctors to finally come to that conclusion, one, because IBS is a diagnosis reached through exclusion of all other possibilities, and two, because Red's IBS is so severe that the doctors had a hard time believing that it actually was IBS. I've of course heard of IBS before, and have known a few people who have it, but I've never known that it could be so debilitating. We've spent many an evening over the past few years in the emergency room, and have had many frightening moments when we feared that the symptoms he was having could actually kill him. This illness doesn't just make our sex/spanking life extremely difficult, it makes just living and functioning day-to-day difficult.

As for me, I've been diagnosed as bipolar. I can't say that I'm entirely surprised, as I've been in therapy on and off since I was about twelve-years-old. My psychiatrists have all kind of touched on the idea that I might be bipolar, but for whatever reason have all rejected it. However, no one has ever come to a diagnosis either. I spoke to a psychologist on Thursday after having a meltdown that morning. Red and I decided that I had to see someone immediately, and found someone to fit me in. She, after reviewing the forms I filled out and speaking to me for about an hour, told me that she thinks that I have the "mild" form of bipolar (meaning that I don't have psychotic breaks, just dramatic mood swings). I see the psychiatrist this afternoon to find out what kind of medication he wants to put me on.

I've kind of been feeling in limbo for the past few days. At first, it seemed like a relief to have a diagnosis, a reason for why I feel the way that I do. But then it sunk in that this is a life-long condition, and a thing to be dealt with. I wonder if I'll ever feel normal again. I am hoping that whatever treatment the doctor chooses will help me to be able to be the person who I perceive myself to be underneath all of my irrationalities and idiosyncrasies. On the other hand, I hate the idea that my ability to cope with and interact with the world around me will depend on a pill.

I also hope that I'll have some more fun stuff to post about soon. It's been nothing but gloom at our house lately. Maybe I'll go wake Red up with a shot in the ear from my squirt gun. (Just kidding!)

I Love My Lurkers

2008-11-11T00:12:00.002-05:00

Today is the third annual Love Our Lurkers day! In observance of this blogger holiday, I am posting to express my gratitude to all of you who read my blog.

Bonnie, at My Bottom Smarts wrote:
While we may not see your face or read your words, we know you're out there. Even in silence, your return visits provide a gentle affirmation.

I'd like to second this sentiment. While perhaps sometimes I am more of a lurker myself than a blogger, it helps me to know that others are out there listening. To those who feel comfortable commenting and take the time to do so, I am grateful. To those who don't, I am also grateful.

I didn't actually "come out" in the online community until around January 2007. I was a lurker online since 1999. I believe my first blog comment ever was at The Punishment Book, where I posted with much trepidation. After that first step, posting became much easier, and I found that the spanko community at large, and particularly the bloggers, were gracious and even happy about my posts.

So to those lurkers who are out there, I would be so pleased if you would post a message. But if not, no worries. You are always welcome here, and I am grateful that you listen.

Oy, I've been tagged

2008-10-27T11:01:00.002-04:00

Yes, Sara, you're right. I generally don't do memes. But since you tagged so nicely...

The Rules-
* Link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog.
* Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog - some random, some weird.
* Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blog.
* Let them know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

1. One of the main reasons I don't do memes is that I rarely can think of so many things to say about myself. It's also the main reason that I don't post often enough.

2. I knit. I have a large yarn stash in the basement, and the chilly weather is awakening my drive to go gather more wool.

3. I knitted a dinosaur costume for one of my dogs. (Yeah, I know I'm a dork.) He hates the thing, but I still make him wear it on Halloween.

4. I wanted to be a teacher up until I started college, when it suddenly occurred to me that teaching involved a kind of public speaking.

5. I've sung professionally before, which is really weird, since I hate the spotlight. I don't plan to ever do it again.

6. I'm frequently complimented on my fingernails. I don't bite them, so they tend to grow fairly long and I have "nice nail-beds" as one lady told me. I trim my fingernails when they get long enough to interfere with my ability to type. Right now the colder weather is making them more brittle so they'll probably start breaking soon.

7. I can't cook at all. I'm actually not allowed to anymore. I cooked for Red once when we were engaged. I assumed it was a responsibility that we would share. He very sweetly said that he appreciated my efforts but would appreciate it more if I never did it again. He's a great cook, so this arrangement has worked out well for us, except for when he is away on business.

So now I'm supposed to tag 7 more people, but here's the thing... I'm not gonna, and you can't make me! I'm breaking this rule! (Yay me, finally found a rule to break!) So spank me.

Void for Vagueness?

2008-10-24T13:47:00.003-04:00

Last night Red declared a new rule. I am not to allow one or both of our dogs to remain outside too long, or I will be punished. This rule came about because yesterday morning I let the youngest of our two dogs outside and left him outside for about 15 to 20 minutes. The length of time was not excessively long, but it was chilly and he's a small dog. When I let him in, I apologized for being a "bad mommy" and assured him that "daddy will punish me for it later." I thought Red was napping at this time and had no idea that he'd overheard my little one-sided conversation.

Anyhow, last night while lying in bed, he informed me that he had in fact heard, and that from now on I really would be getting punished for such infractions. I remained quiet and accepted his pronouncement.

I have to admit though, that the compulsively rule-observant part of me immediately started coming up with questions. I like to follow rules - all rules - to a T, and for that to be possible, there must be a "T." There must be a strict definition of the rule so that I can remain firmly within its limits.

How long is too long? I wanted to ask. Is it conditional on the outside temperature? Is there a "relevant range" of sorts within which it is acceptable to leave him outside for "x" number of minutes, or is it directly (or indirectly) proportional to the relative extremity of the temperature? Does time of day factor into this consideration? What is the equation with which I can determine the appropriate amount of time for the dog to remain outside given all considerable conditions?

I know that if I actually voiced these questions to Red, he'd be completely exasperated with me. My compulsive good-girl-ishness almost never fails to stand in the way of him imposing the boundaries and discipline that I claim to want. And I do want them, though I admit that you'd never know it from my behavior.

So I'm not quite sure what to do now, other than resist the temptation to never let the dogs outside at all...

I Got a Licking

2008-09-19T20:45:00.003-04:00

I owe you all an apology for my silence lately. But I assure you, I've been truly punished lately.

Several nights ago, I got my first ass licking.

It was on my bare bottom.

On my wet bare bottom.

I was shaken.

I cried.

Hard.

I never want it to happen again.

Which is why, from now on, I will be closing the bathroom door completely when I go for my shower. Because my cat enjoys the shower way more than a cat should. And when I'm not careful, he sneaks in.

The other night I was washing my hair, oblivious to the stealthy little devil. Attracted to the water dripping off of me (he seriously LOVES water - the little freak), he apparently couldn't resist the temptation of licking some off of my ass.

I was so startled that I screamed bloody murder and scared poor Red half to death. And then, for reasons I don't entirely understand, I burst into tears.

So I hope you will all forgive me my negligence. I have been truly punished.

Self Waxing

2008-07-29T15:19:00.004-04:00

You know, you can be an educated person and be a complete idiot. I realize most of you probably know that, but for those who may not have known, I am living proof of this.

Like many women out there, I prefer hairlessness. It is not really a sexual thing for me... more of a germophobic, a-bald-snatch-seems-cleaner kind of a thing. The fact that Red prefers me this way is just a happy bonus.

But shaving my lady parts can be difficult. I've cut myself before, and that's not a pretty sight. Plus there is the stubble and the itchiness. I always thought I'd like to try Brazilian waxing, but I had never tried it for several reasons, mainly 1) can't find a place that does it, 2) I fear it would be too expensive for too short a period of hairlessness, and 3) I'm just too darn embarrassed to pay a complete stranger to do something like that.

So imagine my happy surprise when I found that SurgiWax makes a Brazilian waxing kit that you can do yourself in the privacy of your own home. And it was affordable! So I bought the kit and took it home and eagerly tried it out.

Oh.

My.

God.

The government should use this stuff in place of waterboarding. If I had any state secrets, I'd have been screaming them to the four corners of the world.

I've heard great things about Brazilian waxing. But this is definitely something that you should not do yourself. First of all, it is immensely painful, and convincing yourself to rip off a clump of wax (which is what you wind up with - clumps of wax, not nice neat strips) is difficult to do. Taking three ibuprophen in advance did nothing to make it any easier on me. It is difficult to see what you're doing, the wax winds up getting everywhere, and after all of the effort, you still don't manage to get all the hair. You get most of it, sure. But not all.

But, you say, you're not an idiot. Anyone would have thought this was a good idea and tried it. And you're right about that.

But would an idiot have done it three more times after that?

I have got to find a better way.

Spankings Hurt

2008-07-21T15:20:00.002-04:00

I know what you're thinking. "DUH," if you're a bottom, and if you're a top, the ever-annoying "Spankings are supposed to hurt." Grr.

I know that they hurt, and that they are supposed to hurt. But lately spankings really hurt, if you know what I mean.

I haven't had many, which is probably a large part of the problem. I know my bottom has basically become virgin again. But spankings now actually hurt worse than when my bottom was virgin for real. Handspankings leave me gasping, and even if they are brief they leave me with at least a little lasting soreness.

Red has given me a couple handspankings, and one evening about a week ago, he ordered me to pull down my pajama bottoms and panties for a spanking. I was less than thrilled by the prospect. He was digging around in our toy box and emerged with a London Tanners strap that I had mercifully forgotten that we owned.

I didn't want the spanking. I wasn't afraid of it. He'd made it clear that it wasn't punishment and I wasn't in trouble. But I knew it would hurt and not in any kind of good way. But I also wasn't going to argue with him. I agreed to submit to spankings whenever he decided they were necessary. So I stood up and began to lower my pants.

But then he stopped me. He could see the truth in my face - that I didn't, really didn't, want the spanking.

I apologized to him, which he insisted was unnecessary. I don't know if it is hormones, or stress, or what, but spankings don't feel the same to me right now.

I want spankings. At least, I want to want them.

I don't know what is going on with me right now.

Good surprises

2008-06-07T11:27:00.004-04:00

Sometimes my wonderful husband really amazes me. Sometimes I am actually shocked by how generous, understanding, and accepting he is. Sometimes I wonder what on earth I did to deserve him.

Red and I have certainly been having our share of ups and downs lately. Even though we've been married more than five years now, I guess I still react to our difficulties as if they were conflicts happening between my parents. My parents (whom I love very much) were disasters as parents, and as a married couple. (By "parents" I'm referring to my mother and the stepfather she was married to during my teen years. He was the only one of her husbands with whom I developed any kind of father/daughter relationship. He passed away suddenly several years ago.)

My parents were drunks. I remember one time, early in their marriage, they'd been out all night drinking with friends. They didn't come home, and my stepdad's kids (who were younger than me) were at the house with me for his visitation time. I didn't know where they were. I was trying not to panic because his kids were there and I didn't want to frighten them. I was always hyperaware of how close my parents were constantly putting themselves to death.

Finally, somewhere around 10-11 the next morning, I got a phone call from my stepdad. He was drunk again/still. He and my mother had apparently argued, and she left. The only thing he said when I answered was "Tell your mother I said GOODBYE." To me, it was clear that he meant permanently. Now, they didn't divorce. But I, knowing that I was basically at his mercy, had already accepted homelessness and packed up my car by the time they both arrived home. Mom had begun packing too by the time he settled down and agreed to talk about the situation.

I tell this story only to explain that to me, needing another person is dangerous. You never know how easily you can be thrown away. That wasn't the only time my stepfather threw me out of the house. Because he was always drunk, it took literally nothing from me to make him angry. I know now that he was basically making up reasons to get angry with me so that he could justify his drinking to himself. But there were times when I'd literally be woken up in the morning by his rage. Sometime during the night he would have found something I'd done (like parking the car crookedly in the driveway) that would send him into a rage.

I think one of the major reasons why I am so attracted to the idea of discipline in my marriage is that it gives a structure for dealing with conflict that is predictable. It has boundaries. It helps me feel safe that I'll never be thrown out of my own house, that Red will never break down the bedroom door at night because I parked the car wrong. I know how conflict will be handled now. It will be handled by talking, and possibly by discipline.

However, I fear sometimes that this is asking too much of Red. I feel like I'm telling him, "You must deal with your emotions on my terms. And then once discipline occurs, you must let it go forever." I know that I would have an extremely hard time if he told me how he wanted me to deal with my emotions.

Earlier this week, Red and I were in the car together on a long drive to a business meeting that we both had to attend. I told him about this concern and how I'm not sure what to do about it. I mean, this predictability is a major benefit of domestic discipline for me, and if I cannot rely on it, then I don't think I'd want to continue down this path.

As I explained my feelings to him, I was bracing myself for him to say something like, "You're absolutely right. It's completely unfair to me. You are asking way too much of me. How dare you try to dictate how I deal with my feelings with you."

Instead, Red shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and said, "I know. It's okay. I accept it."

I admit to expressing disbelief at this point.

Then he explained, "Look, it is what you need. And to be honest, exercising the authority you've given me will help me. I've been sick for a year and a half. Having control in our relationship helps me to feel like I have some control over my own life."

And that was it. No explosions. No arguments. No tossing me out of the car on the side of the highway. Just complete acceptance.

I've never experienced this before, but I like it. I hope I'll be able to get used to it.

Question for Other Bloggers

2008-06-06T19:55:00.003-04:00

I've been getting some seriously creepy emails. I've gotten some that are clearly just looking for me to link to their websites and probably have never actually read mine at all.

I've gotten others, though, like one I got today, that are particularly creepy. I find them particularly creepy because I can't tell what the author is looking for. It may be that it is just some pervert looking for details about my sex life, but the email I got today also talked about Christianity and DD. Somehow the author has gotten the impression that I am submissive to my husband because of my religious beliefs, which simply isn't the case.

I should probably blow this off, but it is just so icky. Any suggestions as to what I should do?

I'm in a book

2008-05-27T12:02:00.004-04:00

I'm in a book. I can't believe I forgot to mention that. It's called Being Virtual, by Davey Winder.

A while ago, maybe a year or so ago, someone posted on ASSville about their friend who was writing a book, who was interested in interviewing people from the group. So, I contacted Mr. Winder and ended up exchanging emails with him for a while. I was under the impression that there would be more spankos in the book, but I'm half way through reading it, and so far, I'm the only one.

I had a panicky moment when I realized that the book had been released. Contacting Mr. Winder was totally out of character for me. Although I insisted that he use a pseudonym for me in the book, I still felt like I outted myself to the world. Not to mention, I gave him a TON of personal information. I had completely trusted him to not hurt me... not something that I do easily.

But it paid off. Mr. Winder handled my portion of the story, as well as all the other stories that I've read so far, with grace, insight, and compassion. He didn't make me look like a twisted pervert. He even made me look at myself a bit differently, more gently.

He also made me realize how incredibly lucky I am to have an online community like this... The other bloggers and forum members with whom I established acquaintances have given me a great deal of comfort. You've all helped me feel like a "normal" person. You've helped me to see that I'm not alone in a world that tends to ignore people like me... I'm an introvert, an abuse survivor, a sexual deviant (for lack of a better term)... I don't easily make friends. I don't easily trust people.

So, thank you, to all of you who have reached out and made contact with me. It means more than you know.

Desperate Measures

2008-05-24T16:54:00.003-04:00

As they say, "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

Various issues have kept Red and I from engaging in the kind of play, or the kind of discipline arrangement, that we both seem to want. I've gone back and forth between having a sense of humor about my frustrations and feeling totally hopeless and angry.

Back when I had a better sense of humor about the attention that I was not receiving, I made this tshirt:

Only to discover that Red was not wearing his glasses that day and could not read it.

Then, a couple weeks ago, Red and I were perusing our local Target store when I saw these:

and was reminded of this post, by Sparkle, in which she talks about using socks as a signal. I put the socks in the basket and quickly explained my thinking to Red. He agreed, apparently grateful to have some indication of when he should spank me.

I wore them the next day, for a couple of hours. I propped my feet up on the couch, and wiggled my feet when Red was near me. I swear he looked right at them once. But alas, they didn't work either. There was no spanking that evening, and when I later talked to Red about it, he explained that he simply hadn't noticed the socks.

I suppose it is for the best, though. Both times, I felt wrong about trying to signal him in that way. It is extremely important to me that I feel he is in control when he spanks me. I need to feel like it is his decision. Signalling feels like I'm topping from the bottom, which takes an important emotional element away for me.

Still, I feel like there are times when I need to be spanked. I wish there were some way that I could trigger a spanking without having to be in control of the situation.

Update/Confession

2008-05-10T16:14:00.004-04:00

Again, I'm still here. I've been quiet lately. I don't exactly know why. I have been sort of depressed lately. Red's illness had been getting better but then worsened again lately. Nothing fatal or anything, but he's experiencing a lot of pain. We're working with pain doctors now to try to come up with something that can help to eliminate or at least manage his pain.

Honestly, though, I haven't been writing much because I just feel like I don't have anything useful to say. I don't want my blog readers to get bored by listening to me whine about my problems and my insecurities, so I've stayed quiet. There has been no spanking around here lately. Red and I have talked about it some, but I'm starting to think that maybe this isn't something that will work out for us in the long term.

My spanking mojo seems to have disappeared, as had any inkling of a desire I might have had to be submissive. Lately I've been frustrated as hell that I can't be the dominant one in this relationship. The other day I told Red from between clenched teeth, "Are you sure you don't want to be the submissive one in the relationship? Because I sure as hell can think of plenty of reasons to spank you." Frankly, if he isn't going to be dominant, then I just want him to do what he is told!

One of Red's issues is that he apparently can't think of any reasons to spank me. He can, apparently, think of plenty of reasons to be annoyed with me, but he never spanks for anything anymore. When he does want to spank, it seems like all he wants to do is play at it. As much as I love play spanking, lately it just grates on my nerves because I'm not getting what I need emotionally from it. I don't get any kind of emotional release from it. It doesn't make me feel submissive. It doesn't make me feel more connected to him. It just makes me feel like an ass to spank.

I get jealous sometimes when I read my favorite blog writers. I know you all have problems of your own. But I feel alone with my problems. I feel like Red and I have lost a major part of our connection. I haven't felt submissive in a long time. I haven't been properly spanked in a very long time. I hate myself because whenever I open my mouth (or my keyboard, actually), I end up sounding like a whiner, and I say negative things about Red. I don't want to bash Red. He's a good man.

But I find myself thinking... why can't we be more like Sara and Grant, or Sparkle and Chris?

What a terrible thing to think, when I have wonderful man at home. He's good to me. He's honest, honorable, and trustworthy. I really do love him so much. So, why am I so unhappy?

I'm ashamed of myself, and I don't like exposing the ugliness in my head to the world. But I know I've been MIA, and an email this morning from a fellow blogger made me realize that I probably should post something to let everyone know that I'm still alive.

I'm still alive.

Grumble, Grumble

2008-04-27T17:33:00.003-04:00

Red says that I can't stay in bed wallowing in depression. He says I can either get up and do something or I can get spanked.

So, I'm up and doing something. I'm grumbling about what a butthead he is.

I'd rather be in bed right now.

But I'm not in bed right now, and do you know why?

That's right. Because Red is a butthead.

I'm still here...

2008-04-10T12:22:00.002-04:00

Hello all... This is a "Don't worry about me, I'm still alive" post. I'm not sure why I've been so quiet lately except that I've just not been feeling inspired to post. There have not been many spankings around here, although things look like they'll be picking up again soon, as Red seems to be feeling more comfortable with the power that I've given him. We'll see what happens...

I have read the (in)famous Wakeman article. I, too, should be posting a response to it. I put the article aside so that I could do some mental processing. I'd like to reread it one more time before I formulate a response. Here's hoping I can quit being so damn lazy about posting!

I've received some comments on older posts lately. For those who've commented, I've finally managed to post responses to you. Please don't think that I'm ungrateful. I really am so happy to have readers who find something that they can relate to here and/or about which they feel inspired to comment.

So, I guess this is it for now. I hope all of you are doing well. I hope to be posting again soon. I certainly plan on it! I guess this is as good a reason as any for Red and I to start fooling around more... Wish me luck!

_____ and Punishment

2008-03-10T07:01:00.003-04:00

I hope that this post makes sense. Not only am I confused about the topic myself, but I'm awake earlier than I should be thanks to a kitten who decided that nibbling on my fingertips was an absolutely irresistible idea.

I've had this internal debate going on in my head for a while. Sometimes I wonder if spanking is a healthy thing for me. The thing is, I have this guilt that builds up in me that is unattached to any real crime. I'm not sure where this comes from except for a desire to be perfect that I cannot possibly fulfill.

Sometimes, an intense desire to be punished creeps up inside of me. When I tell Red how I feel, he always asks me if I've done something wrong. I never really have an answer to that... Oh, it's a bunch of things. Maybe I ought to have stayed awake just a little bit longer the day before so that I could have unloaded the clean dishes from the dishwasher. Or maybe I forgot to return a phone call to someone. Little things that happen more because I'm human than because I'm bad.

I've heard that so many people experience guilt relief after they've been punished. I can't say that I ever have. I'm not sure if this is because I'm a black hole of guilt and no amount of punishment could ever balance it out. Or maybe because Red never really punishes me, so I can't reach that elysium.

Red tends to shy away from punishing me for a few reasons. The main one being that he is afraid of reinforcing my unreasonable guilt. He doesn't want it to be an affirmation to me that I am "bad." He also has trouble getting upset with the things that I feel guilty over because he believes that I am just being too hard on myself.

I get angry with him sometimes over this. A while ago I asked him, "Are you waiting for me to murder someone?" I am generally a good girl. I can't help that. And I don't feel like I should be forced to purposely do something bad in order to be punished. I've been tempted, but I just can't bring myself to do so. So, I'm left unable to experience whatever benefits punishment might ultimately offer.

On the other hand, I share his fear. My guilt is so bad now... What if it got worse as a result of punishment? What if he punishes me just as hard as he safely can, and I just end up feeling more guilty than before because now he thinks I'm bad too?

Is there a guiltless elysium waiting for me just on the other side of a thorough punishment? Is there relief to be reached on the other side of all these raging emotions?

I've grown up feeling like I needed to put a cork on my emotions because life was already too unpredictable and I couldn't afford to rock the boat (which was already leaking and sinking quite fast). Sometimes it makes a hell of a lot of sense to me that I'd feel so much better if I could safely allow all of this fear and anger and guilt (reasonable or not) to come flooding out of me, and that I'd be so much safer in doing so with Red's support. It would be a new experience to have someone there who would love me and take care of me through all that.

On the other hand, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I am an endless pit of anxieties and ugly feelings and no matter how much pours out of me, there will always be that much and more still there.

Is it really even fair to ask Red to take all that on?

Testing?

2008-02-22T10:38:00.002-05:00

Ok, I'm still fairly new to blogging so I could be doing something very very stupid...

I've posted comments on others' blogs today, but when trying to post a comment on my own to reply to someone else's, it isn't letting me! I'm wondering now if it'll let me post a regular post. If anyone knows what the heck is up with this, please let me know.

ARGH!

Well, sorry for the boring post, but I'm trying to figure this thing out. Oh, and I guess just so that I can save the text of this response somewhere, I'll stick it on the bottom of this for now.

In regards to comments on "Men in Uniform:"

Sparkle and Chris,

Please forgive me for taking so long to respond to this... my own embarrassment over it has made it difficult.

Sparkle - I'm utterly tickled that out of 741 posts, my blog stood out enough to be worth a read through. That made my day. :)

Chris - Thank you for your understanding. This little issue of mine has been particularly concerning to me because I've recently learned that my neice is also afraid of firemen. A fireman came to her school and she was fine when he was out of uniform, but had a meltdown when he put his uniform on. Also, she's autistic, and from what I've heard, a lot of autistic children tend to hide in closets and under beds during house fires because all of the chaos is too overstimulating to them. So it is really really important to me that she knows to run toward a fireman instead of away. So I know that I need to get this problem under control NOW. How can I help teach her not to be afraid when I so clearly am?
Anyway, thanks to you both. :)

Rose

Kinky or Vanilla?

2008-02-19T11:40:00.003-05:00

So, Red and I had house guests this past week, who just left this morning to return home. Our guests were a man who has been one of Red's best friends for about twenty years now (whom I will call "A."), and his wife (whom I will call "M.").

As far as we know, this couple is entirely vanilla, so before they arrived I carefully made sure that our toys were all put away and out of sight. After having spent the past week with these people, Red and I are left wondering whether our discretion was really necessary.

On separate occasions over the course of the week, Red and I each witnessed A. deliver a playful spanking to M. When I witnessed it, M., who is much smaller than A., was climbing onto A.'s lap. He was sitting in our recliner chair, and she is tiny, so it took a little effort on her part to do this. Before she could sit down, A. wrapped his arm around her, pulled her OTK (well, OTL, really) and delivered several firm (but not really hard) swats to her bottom. She wiggled and whined, and he let her up. And that was that.

Apparently Red witnessed a similar event later in the week, as well as being a part of an interesting exchange in a local store. Red took them both to a local Walmart-type store to do some shopping. As they were walking through the kitchen section, A. apparently pulled a spatula down from the display.

"Do you know how I know this is a good spatula?" A. asked Red.

"No... how?" Red asked.

A. slapped the spatula hard against his hand. M. jumped and again protested. A. laughed and put the spatula away.

Things like this, along with some other general toppiness that occurred, has both Red and I wondering if these people are spankos (or at least the guy, anyway).

So, what do you all think? What clues do you look for to tell whether someone is kinky or vanilla?

Vanilla Spankings: Part 3

2008-02-07T05:17:00.000-05:00

So, during my senior year of high school and freshman year of college, one of my closest friends was dating a guy whom I will call C. C was very tall and very slender - the kind of guy who, even though he was much bigger than me, I simply couldn't see as physically imposing because he looked like he was all skin and bone. I spent quite a bit of time with my friend and C, during which I learned that there was definitely more to him than skin and bone.

During this time, my favorite way to deal with stress and insomnia was to go for long walks. It didn't matter to me what the weather was like, or what time it was. When I felt I needed to walk, I walked.

C hated that I did this. In fact, Red hates that I do this too. It seems that I most want to walk when I can't sleep at night. Only last night I was told that there was NO WAY that he was going to let me go out for a walk in the middle of the night. He said it in that grumpy voice that makes me think I'd better listen.

I remember one weekend night I'd gone out for a walk. It was sometime around midnight or 1 a.m. C was driving home from his job as a dishwasher at a restaurant and happened to spot me. He slowed his truck to a crawl and barked at me through the open passenger-side window.

"I'm fine, C," I called to him, trying to wave him off.

Suddenly the truck was parked and I walked into a wall of C. My nose literally hit his chest. Suddenly I was airborne. He'd lifted me off my feet and tried to put me into the passenger seat of his truck. I struggled, and got a hard smack on the behind for my efforts.

"What the hell was that?!?!" I remember asking. He'd slapped my butt so hard that I thought he'd managed to make a paddle materialize out of nowhere. But it was just his bony hand. My butt ached for a while from just that one smack.

I remember that he scolded me the whole way home and made veiled threats about what would happen if he ever caught me out walking by myself after dark again. I pouted and tried to argue, but didn't push my luck.

Later, after I complained to my friend about what a Neanderthal her boyfriend had been, she confided that he'd spanked her once after she'd done something he found particularly frustrating.

I suppose that C is probably a spanko, though that was the last time my friend ever mentioned having been spanked. He was certainly always a toppy kind of guy. But I guess I'll never be sure about him though.

Vanilla Spankings: Part 2

2008-01-28T13:38:00.000-05:00

My memories of high school and my antics with my friends are a blur of random ass-slappings. No proper spankings, mind you, but one or two of these events had a similar feel.

I can't say I was a part of the in-crowd. I wasn't really a part of the out-crowd either. I spent most of my time in the fine arts department, participating in extra-curricular activities. I was in theatre and in multiple choirs. The other students were a mixture from all different cliques, with the exception of jocks because their practice times always conflicted with the practice times in fine arts. So I was friends with almost everyone in high school. I can't really remember having any enemies. If I wasn't friends with a particular student, it was only because our conflicting schedules kept us from getting to know each other.

The fine arts department was a particularly friendly place at my school, as I recall. I've even continued to be friends with the teachers from that department. Anyhow, my point is that within my circle of friends, we were all fairly free with our bodies. It was not unusual to receive a random goose from someone in passing. A bunch of horny teenagers, we were.

I couldn't possibly recount all of the ass-slappings that occurred during my high school years. There are a few that stand out in my mind, though.

I remember rehearsing a scene on stage after school with a few other friends. I was always extremely afraid of being on stage, so silliness became a method of coping with my anxiety. My friend Brandon was good to me though. He was very comfortable on stage, so he made sure that we were always paired together in theatre class. He became my support system in the class and coached me through each scene to help me feel as comfortable as possible. Anyhow, during this one rehearsal period, we'd let the silliness get out of hand. It was around 6pm, so we'd been rehearsing for more than three hours for a scene that was supposed to be less than ten minutes long. I was giggling with a girlfriend of mine who was also in the scene, when all of the sudden I felt a sharp slap on my bottom.

"Pay attention," Brandon growled. And with that, I was completely focused again.

I also had other male friends who were frustratingly chivalrous. Now, in my late twenties, I recognize chivalry for what is is, and most of the time I think it is sweet even when I think it is annoying. Back then, however, I just found it annoying.

Again, in the theatre, I was working after school to prepare for a play. I was carrying a large box of props back to the prop room. My friend Jason appeared next to me and tried to take the box from me.

"I can do it myself," I protested.

"That box is too heavy," he insisted. "You're going to hurt yourself."

I rolled my eyes. He slapped my backside and took the box from me.

"Bully," I muttered after him.

You know, now that I'm writing about this, a bunch more examples are coming back to me. I don't know if perhaps I was somehow releasing spanko pheromones wherever I went, or if I just attended a school full of spankos. Or perhaps I just frustrate everyone around me into becoming temporary spankers.

Red would probably think it is the latter. But then, he's a bully too. :)

Vanilla Spankings: Part 1

2008-01-21T14:34:00.000-05:00

A recent Sunday Brunch at My Bottom Smarts got me thinking about this topic. I've decided to break this post up into parts because I know I tend to be extremely long-winded. I really am trying to be more reader-friendly. :)

Bonnie cites a statistic from the game show The Power of Ten that says that 13% of Americans admit to having been spanked as adults. Participants in the brunch discussed their scepticism about the accuracy of the statistic and the variability in the definition of what constitutes a spanking.

This made me think of my experiences as a teenager and an adult. I've been threatened with spankings multiple times by people who I believed to be vanilla, and who did not know that I am a spanko. Most threats were never followed through on, but only because I managed to wiggle out of the situation somehow.

I am generally a good girl, but somehow I manage to frustrate people enough that they threaten to spank me. I've often wondered if somehow my spanko thoughts are being broadcasted to others without my knowledge.

One of the first examples that spring to mind was when I was eighteen years old. I was a senior in high school, and I was very active in extra-curricular activities. I'd been injured in a car accident so badly that I could barely move. I had severe back pain. My doctor had ordered me to take at least a week off of school and spend the time in bed recovering. I refused. I simply had too many important things to do. So I forced my way through my usual activities.

At an after-school meeting, I was working away diligently on a project when a teacher and one of the mothers approached me and insisted that I go home. I argued that I was perfectly fine and didn't need to rest. The mother then looked me dead in the eye and said, "If you don't go home and rest right now, I'm going to put you over my lap and spank you." Shocked, I stared at her for a moment and then decided that she couldn't be serious. I was a student, so she couldn't spank me. More importantly, I was an adult, and you can't spank an adult... right?

So I ignored her and went back to what I was doing. A little while later she spotted me working and came charging down the hallway after me with a look on her face that I hope I never see again. I hobbled away as quickly as my wounded body would carry me. I hid behind a friend of mine who was a football player and begged him to protect me. He scooped me up over his shoulder and carried me out of the building, and put me into the driver's seat of the car that I'd borrowed from my mother. He told me that if I didn't go home right then that he wouldn't protect me from the spanking next time. I decided to believe him and drove home.

That certainly was not the last time I was threatened with spankings. It always freaks me out, though, when someone other than my husband brings up the "s" word. I can't help but worry... do I have a neon "spanko" sign on my forehead?

Men in Uniform

2008-01-17T12:11:00.000-05:00

I apologize for being off the radar lately. I've been in a bit of a funk, and frankly I have not been feeling the least bit interesting lately. Even when it occurs to me to talk to people, call a friend, or whatever, I have not been able to come up with a single thing to say. So, I've stayed quiet.

I learned something about myself yesterday that I've been mulling over, and I thought perhaps it might have a place on this blog. It isn't really about spanking (well, maybe it is, but only marginally), so if you're here for spanking, skip this entry and go down to my last post.

A few weeks ago I got a traffic ticket. I made a turn in a residential area that I did not know was prohibited. In fairness, it should not be prohibited because there is absolutely no reason for it to be. I was pulled over. I gave the officer my license and registration, which he took back to his car to check. When he returned, he handed them back and said, "Your driving record is impeccable." He then proceeded to apologize for having to give me a ticket for such a ludicrous thing (even he thought it was), but apparently the residents had been bitching and his hands were tied. "If you have time, call and schedule an appointment with the District Court to fight this. It'll be taken off your record." I thanked him, and did just that.

My hearing was yesterday. I should not have been nervous. There was no reason for me to be - the cop himself told me that he would speak to the prosecutor for me. But I was terrified. So much so that I only managed to sleep for a couple hours the night before.

There are times when I think I have two of me inside my mind. One half of me is perfectly logical and rational. This is the me I wish I could be all of the time. But then, there is also the other half. This is the hysterical me, the one who embodies all of my fears and phobias, the one who overanalyzes and reads way too much into everything. This is also the me that controls all of the responses that I have to things which I don't understand. This is the me who was up all night worrying for reasons I could not explain.

Sitting in the courtroom the next day, with Red by my side, Rational Me kept trying to convince Irrational Me that there was no reason to fear. Irrational Me was bouncing up against the sides of my skull trying to flee for her life. Rational Me had plenty of evidence to support her position. Irrational Me had none. Still, Irrational Me was the dominant one at the moment.

I've mentioned in the past that I'm a rape survivor. I've also talked about how rape didn't traumatize me in and of itself, but was traumatic because it taught me lessons that I was not prepared to know. As a child I'd been taught that there are people in this world who can always be trusted to protect you. Both cops and firemen had been to my elementary school to talk to us about what to do in emergencies - don't talk to strangers, stop drop and roll, call 911, and all of that. I trusted them implicitly.

Once the police found out about the rapes, I learned differently. Most of the professionals I encountered were not outwardly mean to me (with the notable exception of my rapist's defense attorney), but I did learn that protecting me was not even on their radar screens. I no longer trusted the police officers who came to help me, the judge who heard the case, and certainly not the lawyers involved.

I don't know if all children think this way, but I am learning that as a child, and even as an adult sometimes, I thought categorically. I didn't just stop trusting those police officers, I stopped trusting all police officers. Actually, I stopped trusting all of the people whom I'd been taught to trust. They were now all unknown and unpredictable entities to me.

Rational Me understands how this could happen to me as a child. What I can't seem to figure out how to do is reverse this distrust as an adult. Sitting terrified in the courtroom, I simply could not figure out how I could override my ingrained fear of these individuals. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how this fear has been limiting my life. After September 11th, I wanted to be able to stop by my local police department and fire department as so many other people were doing to thank those individuals who risk their lives to protect the lives of people whom they don't even know. I never managed to do it. All I could do was write donation checks to various police and firefighter associations and say some quiet prayers. Even when the firemen stand in the intersections with their boots to collect donations, my heart pounds and my breath quickens. For no logical reason at all, I'm afraid of these people.

Now for the silliest and most embarrassing part of this confession - I've realized that I'm even afraid of a certain Fireman Spanko who I don't even really know and who lives almost all the way across the country from me anyway. One of the blogs that I enjoy reading on a regular basis is Chris' Firehouse. He seems like a really wonderful person, and I've exchanged emails and blog comments with his wonderful wife Sparkle several times. When I decided to become active with the online spanko community, I decided to contact those blog writers whose blogs I most enjoyed to let them know how much I appreciate them. To date, I still have not managed to do this for Chris (although I'm proud to say I've managed a couple of brief comments on his blog). Rational Me knows he's not going to fly across the country and strangle me with a fire hose, but Irrational Me is wetting herself right now and trying to convince me to delete this paragraph.

So, Chris, if you're reading this, I love your blog. I'd like to be able to send you a proper message the way I did with Sparkle and others, but for now I'm only comfortable hiding behind my own blog readers and waving from a distance. I don't know if I'll ever have the opportunity to meet you, but if I do, please don't take personally my uncontrollable shaking and inability to speak. It really has nothing to do with you. I'm just Irrational.

Discipline and Eroticism

2007-12-16T17:25:00.000-05:00

So, I tell myself that when I am disciplined, it is something separate, albeit marginally connected to, sex. Spankos who only use spanking for erotic purposes cannot seem to believe that spanking between adults can be anything other than sexual. I still believe that it is different.

However, they do clearly go hand-in-hand for me. For the past month, I've been trying to adjust to a new birth control. The old one had me feeling weepy and hormonal all of the time. During the time I was on it, I was desperate for discipline. The new birth control seems to have had the opposite effect on me. I do not feel at all submissive right now, do not feel the need to be submissive, and I have no interest in discipline. I also have very little interest in sex.

Like it or not, it seems that my need for discipline increases and decreases in direct proportion with my libido.

So, I clearly cannot claim that the two are completely separate. But when I'm being disciplined, there is so much going on that I simply do not associate with eroticism. I experience a lot of guilt and remorse. I frequently cry. I'm often scared and consumed by anxiety. I hate making mistakes. I can't say that I ever feel horny during these times.

However, when I'm over Red's knee getting the squirmy, fun kind of spanking, I end up practically humping his leg like a desperate puppy.

I was thinking a few nights ago about the connection between discipline and sex. The only explanation that I can offer right now is that the end results of both are extremely similar. After an orgasm, I feel completely relaxed, warm, and pleasantly sleepy. All of my cares are gone. I'm able to be in the moment, which is not something that I am frequently able to do.

Discipline is different than sex during the act, but the stress and catharsis of the event leaves me with a similar exhaustion. There are times when I feel the need to be punished, but I've done nothing wrong. I feel a bit crazy during these times. I hate being punished, so why do I feel such a strong need for it? Well, I suspect that it has something to do with the end result.

Sex and punishment are the only two circumstances wherein I surrender control of myself and my body. It is only when I stop trying to control things that I'm able to live in the moment and my other anxieties fade away. During sex, all of my sexual tension is released during climax. During punishment, all of my fear and stress is released. Both leave me feeling relaxed and refreshed.

I'm not sure I have any major point to make. I'm neither disputing nor affirming the claim that discipline is just sex in disguise. I'm just offering up some thoughts I've had recently for whatever they're worth.

Anyway, the month of December has been chaotic with holiday preparations. I may not post again until after the holidays are over, so I'd like to take this moment to wish you all the happiest of holidays.

Outted By My Husband

2007-12-09T22:00:00.000-05:00

I'm still here. I apologize for not posting recently. Preparing for the holidays in addition to caring for Red has left me tired and a little depressed, which I generally cope with by being quiet and introverted.

On a good note, though, while the doctors still have not found a diagnosis, they have given Red some medicine that helps him cope with his pain. "This Thing We Don't" is "This Thing We Do" once more. Fortunately I've been good since Red told me that he was ready to be consistent with discipline, so I haven't been punished at all. During the time that we were not using a discipline structure, I started to think that maybe it was all about my libido after all. That what I think of as "security" is really all about having my sexual needs satisfied. But starting up again has dispelled that myth for me. As soon as I knew that consequences were back in place, I immediately relaxed and my obsession with spanking diminished back to its normal level.

Of course, there are times when I feel more submissive than others. When I am at my most submissive, I get frustrated that Red is not dominant enough. But Red surprised me recently by handing me a printed copy of this post by Angie at The Punishment Book.

"What's this for?" I asked him.

"This is just like you," he said. "You're not a real submissive either."

I scoffed. Of course I'm submissive. And if I'm not, it's his fault, I thought, for not being dominant enough.

"I am submissive," I protested.

"Right," Red snorted. "Except when you want to do things your way. God help me if I try to get in your way or tell you what to do then."

He had me there. I am frequently submissive. I'd love to be submissive all of the time, and I wish I were. I feel so relaxed and safe when I'm submissive. It seems like the Holy Grail to be able to stay in that mental space.

But I have to admit that there are times when I get it in my head to do something, and come hell or high water, I'm going to do it. There is no look, no tone of voice, and no paddle that could stop me from doing what I want.

Fortunately Red has never really tried to stop me from doing what I want to do when I'm like this, but I can't help but wonder what would happen if he did. I like to think that I would submit graciously.

But if I'm honest with myself... well, I'll just say that submission will probably be something that I have to work on for a long, long time.

Women, Stress, and Discipline

2007-11-11T09:36:00.000-05:00

So last night, after returning from our six-hour visit to a local emergency room, I sat reading one of my favorite spanko stories while my husband blissed out on the morphine that was coursing through his veins.

Instead of horny, I got depressed. I've always had a bit of discomfort with the spanking stories that attract me, because I've worried that perhaps they indicate that I want to be treated like a child. A child is exactly what I don't want to be. But the hints of childishness are certainly present in these stories.

I tend to most enjoy stories about women who are taken in hand by some powerful and confident male suitor. The women are all used to doing everything for themselves, being mistreated by past men in their lives, and have come to resent being told what to do. The men are all apparently enormous and strong, while the women are all tiny.

I've always found traditional romance novels ridiculous because of how completely unrealistic they are. Yet in the corner of my mind, I do realize that the spanking romances are equally unrealistic... so why do I love reading them so much? I think it is because, no matter how exaggerated they may be, they do reflect certain emotional needs of mine, and probably of many other women too, given how many of these stories exist.

While I hate that these women are all tiny and the men all huge, to me it seems to be an outward expression of an internal feeling. It bothers me because as a feminist I recognize that women are starving themselves out of existence in order to meet this unattainable ideal of being waifish, while men are shooting up with steroids in order to become almost cartoonishly strong and muscular... It is as if as a society we're saying that, while men deserve to take up as much space as possible, women are worthy of very little space and therefore should strive to take up as little as possible. It is even reflected in how we tend to sit... men often lean back in a chair with their legs spread out in front of them, while women cross their legs, or even sit on their legs.

But the fact of the matter is, I do feel tiny, even though I might not be so physically. I feel much too tiny to master this giant world that is constantly throwing obstacles in front of me. I, like so many women, was taught to be a caretaker growing up. Now that I'm married, and my husband has been sick for nearly a year now, I've realized how overwhelming this role can be. It is not that I didn't understand what "in sickness and in health" meant when we took our vows... I vowed to be here in times like these, and I always will be. But it is incredibly difficult. And it isn't so much the catering to him, or the trips to the ER, or any of those things that make it so difficult - those are the things you'd fully expect when caring for a loved one. It is that he is so emotionally absent for me. I suddenly find myself feeling single within my marriage. Only, unlike when I was actually single, I'm single with a full-grown adult man to care for in addition to myself, and with no one to care for me.

On top of that are all the other responsibilities I have - I must be the sole homemaker, since Red is generally unable to help with chores or errands. I must work to fill in the financial gaps that his illness has left (he is able to work much less than he used to, leaving us with a lot of financial stress with the decreased income and the mounting medical bills). Also, I am still working on my graduate degree. As much as I've been wanting children, I am so glad that we do not have any yet. I simply can't imagine how I'd be able to take care of a needy child in addition to all of these other things.

I guess I should mention that I've been sick for the past month and a half too. My doctor has plainly stated it is because I'm under too much stress and my immune system is suppressed because of it. I'm exhausted and feel yucky all the time now, which only makes it more difficult for me to take care of my responsibilities.

I've heard so much about how domestic discipline is a reaction against feminism, that women are realizing that they just weren't made for equality and they need a man to take care of them. I respectfully disagree. Okay, perhaps a little less than respectfully... I think that is complete and utter bullshit. What women have now is not equality. Equality would be men taking on more responsibilities as home-maker and caretaker as women take on more responsibilities in the workplace. Men are simply stepping aside in the workplace to make room for their female colleagues, and then coming home and expecting their wives to do all of the work at home. (Of course, this is all MHO, and is not meant to apply to all men, just many.)

When I read about a strong man feeling completely justified in taking the woman he loves over his lap and spanking her silly because she is working too hard and not taking care of herself enough, it speaks to the part of me that is feeling overworked and overwhelmed. It seems to me that as a woman I'm expected to be an endlessly self-renewing font of caretaker energy. This just isn't possible. And when my doctor looks me in the eye and tells me that germs are bludgeoning my defenseless body because of stress, it makes me strongly desire someone who will step in and confirm to me and everyone else that my responsibilities actually are unreasonable. I work hard. I don't have the opportunity for a break, and I've had it ingrained in me that I don't deserve and shouldn't need one. I feel guilty for ever wanting one.

Nothing sounds so good to me right now as a lover who will step in and say, "not only should you not have to work this hard, I'm not going to allow you to do so because it is harming you. I care for you too much to sit idly by and watch you work yourself sick. Not only am I willing to take on some of those responsibilities, I am willing to take them from you against your will if need be, thereby relieving you of your automatic I-should-be-able-to-do-it-all-myself guilt response. I demand that we share responsibilities equally."

Jesus, what I want is a man who is so adamantly feminist that he'll stand up to the woman he loves at all costs in order to make sure that the two of them are equal...

This Thing We Don't

2007-11-10T12:05:00.000-05:00

This week has been a rough one for me. Between my husband's illness and some added responsibilities over the past week, I've found myself feeling hopeless and desperate. When the world feels out of control to me, I need my husband to prove his control even more in order to feel secure.

That just hasn't been happening. What is even harder for me to handle is that he hasn't even been showing any interest lately in maintaining a discipline relationship.

Red has told me in the past that he feels a bit insecure because he isn't sure he knows what he's doing. So, I did everything I could think of to help him. I bought him a book about domestic discipline, suggested websites to read through, and got him signed up for a few different forums. Whenever I've done these things, he's responded gratefully and said that it will be a big help to him. But then he completely ignores them. I don't think he's visited any of the forums since his introduction posts. Nor has he visited any of the websites. He only read the book I bought after a couple months of nagging.

I'm feeling incredibly hurt right now. We met online in a chat room that was geared toward discipline relationships... so he knew from Day 1 that this is something that I was looking for in a relationship. He indicated to me, and continues to indicate to me, that it is something that he wants as well. But he isn't doing anything that makes me feel like it really is.

A couple days ago I had a meltdown. I screamed at him about how hard I've been working to be supportive to him and to fulfill his needs. I told him how I felt he'd neglected me. I told him that I was revoking my consent, and that "I'm not following any fucking rules any more."

I have always taken our rules very seriously, and I experience quite a bit of guilt when I screw up and break one of them. When he doesn't follow through with discipline, or gives what feels like a half-hearted effort at discipline, I feel like all of the effort I put into respecting the rules and taking care of his needs doesn't mean anything to him. I feel invisible, like I don't matter.

When I screamed these things to me, I told me that he understood my feelings and that they were justified. He said once again that he really does want to have this structure in our relationship. He promised to start visiting the websites and forums, and to have a topic of discussion for the two of us everyday, so he can begin to feel more secure in his role. He asked me to trust him to do these things, that they were entirely up to him.

And I've heard nothing about it since...

Virtually Exposed

2007-11-03T13:48:00.000-04:00

Being new to the blogging world, I haven't really known what to expect. I'm an avid reader of many blogs, and the bloggers I read make it look so easy! They write about such personal things in a way that reads so comfortably.

It is an odd thing for me. Those of you who've read my blog posts, or my messages on other forums and such, don't even know my real name. Yet you know so much about such intimate parts of my life. You know things about me that even the people who are the closest to me do not know. I've already divulged things about myself and my past that I never even told my therapists.

I thought that perhaps blogging would be easier because of the anonymity. In a way, it is. I can talk about things that I cannot with people in my everyday life, like spanking, because the social constraints are not the same, and I'm less embarrassed since none of you could pick me out of a crowd. Sure, there is always a risk on the internet that you could be discovered. An ambitious computer-saavy person could trace me somehow and figure out who I really am if they were so inclined. But I'm simply not an interesting enough person to give someone a reason to do that, so I'm comfortable that the risk is sufficiently low.

The unexpected issue that I've run into is that I still feel incredibly vulnerable. My face is hidden, but my metaphorical heart is exposed to the world. Being a blog reader, I feel like I've gotten to know some people in an odd way. What I realize, of course, is that they still do not know me. It is an odd and fragmented form of "friendship." I say friendship because I hold some people in the same regard that I do friends. I worry when I learn that they're going through times of stress, have family problems, health problems, etc. I say my unpracticed prayers for them (I'm in an odd spiritual place right now), and wait anxiously to learn that they are doing okay... "Dear God, please watch over... um... [screen name]." It is an odd thing for me.

My insecurities are quickly rising to the surface. My stat counter and Google Analytics have only made it easier for me to become anxious. I know people are finding my blog... but are they reading it? Do they find things that they relate to, or do they think I'm a freak? I know from reading others' blogs that it is only a very small portion of visitors will leave feedback of some variety. I was excited and happy to receive my first comments. What I didn't expect was to worry so much about what the lurkers are thinking, or worse, are they even interested enough to think about it at all?

Further - how do you know as a blogger what is okay to post, and what is TMI? Theoretically, since this is my blog, I can write whatever I choose, so long as I follow the terms of service that I agreed to when I signed up for the blog. But understanding the social rules helps me to feel safe. How do I know where the boundaries are?

Yesterday I posted about something intensely personal. There are no social guidelines, even in real life, about talking about rape. As a survivor, I've learned just not to do it. People know that rape happens, even that it happens to children, but the important thing is that it always happens to other people and other children. On the one hand, as a survivor, I know that I should not be embarrassed about what happened to me. What I apparently should be embarrassed about is talking about it. Unless I'm speaking to a therapist, mentioning that I've been raped only puts the listener in an uncomfortable position. They don't know how to respond to it. They feel sorry for me. I suspect they feel afraid that rape has come so close to them. Now they know someone who has been raped.

So, I know that I shouldn't talk about it. But is it okay to talk about online? Are people visiting my blog, reading it, and being repelled the way that they are in real life? What are the rules here?

So, bloggers, how do you do it? How do you handle the anxiety about spilling your heart out to strangers? How do you stop worrying about the people who do not respond? How do you know what is acceptable blog material, and what isn't?

Submission and Empowerment

2007-11-02T06:43:00.000-04:00

A couple of quick notes before I dive into my ramblings :)... I added a section to my blog called "Coming Soon." This is basically my To Do/reminder list of topics that I'd like to blog about in the future. Some days I'm filled with ideas to blog about, but many others I feel like I don't have a single intelligent contribution to make within the spanko community. My hope is that this list will not only remind me of my thoughts and enable me to record and flesh them out, but that it will help me get through those periods of writer's block and hopefully help me to find even more topics to blog about.

Also, I just wanted to state again that I tend to use the terms "domestic discipline" (DD) and "this thing we do" (TTWD) loosely and interchangably. Please see my "Domestic Discipline vs. Punishment Kink" post and the post immediately following it (the title of which escapes me at the moment) for a better understanding of how I personally define and understand these terms.

On that note...

I was lying in bed this morning, thinking (I've been up since 3am) about various things. I tend to do that when I can't sleep. Often it is the reason that I can't sleep. Anyway, my mind started to wander to my husband and how much I love him. Of all the weaknesses of language (at least the English language, which is the only one I speak fluently), the inability to express the depth and facets of love may be its worst. I find myself frustrated by my inability to express my love to him. All of the words and phrases at my disposal are overused to the point that they've lost their true definition. (I mean, seriously, Americans - do you really love that certain kind of food, that certain style of furniture, your new iPod, your new car, or any of the other things that aren't going to matter at all when your time comes?) I love him in a way that is more than an emotional feeling; it is a physical sensation as well. It is a sensation that is separate from physical sexual arousal, which I also experience with him, and that is harder than arousal to translate into an equivalent physical response such as love-making.

Part of it is expressed through my treatment of him. I do my best to show him my feelings by treating him with respect and consideration. I try to always put his needs before my own. I do the very best I can to stay mindful of his feelings at all times. I try to avoid doing things that hurt him, change habits that upset him, and so on.

But these are things that I try to do for all of the people I love, and different loves seem to call for different forms of expression. I love my mother differently than I love my friends, and my friends differently than I love my husband. And I love my husband so much more than I love anyone else in the world. He is the one person whom I love so much that not only do I choose to spend every day with him, but I've vowed to make this same choice every day for the rest of my life. Surely that kind of love calls for a special and more active form of expression... but I'm clueless as to how.

Ultimately, this is the reason that I want to submit to him. I'm not a submissive person by nature. I have no desire to be told what to do, and I value my autonomy. In fact, one of my main motivations to start my own business was that I couldn't stand being a subordinate in the workplace. I had better ideas about how to run the place, and I resented having to do what I considered to be a less-than-quality job for our clients because of the dictates of the distant and impersonal Powers That Be. So I quit my steady and secure job for a huge multi-national corporation in favor of an eternally unstable sole proprietorship.

Submission is one of the few things I can offer (in fact, the only one that I've been able to think of) that has real depth of meaning. My husband knows this - he certainly knows how dominating I can be in the outside world. We never would have fallen in love and gotten married if I hadn't argued with and been so infuriated by him when we first met that I couldn't let the issue drop and just had to stick around for as long as it took to PROVE HIM WRONG. I'm still working on it by the way. We're hopelessly deadlocked, and I wouldn't be surprised if we never manage to resolve the matter. ;)

I've learned a lot along the way about myself and this desire to submit. Of course, like many women, I had a difficult time figuring out how it could exist simultaneously and in harmony with my strong feminist beliefs. Fortunately I've worked my way through this issue enough so that I'm currently comfortable with it about 90% of the time. I want to leave that remaining 10% as it is so that I don't ever become so comfortable with submission that I lose sight of healthy boundaries or fail to take proper care of myself.

But submission has had unexpected benefits. Contrary to what I feared, it is actually empowering. I'd heard that before and never understood what it meant. I suspect that it still may mean something different for me than it does for others.

A little backstory is needed:

I am a survivor of childhood emotional, physical, and sexual abuse. All of the adults in my life were unhealthy in some way, and my father figures were the worst of the bunch. They were all abusive in different ways and to varying degrees, but the worst was Stepfather #1. He was a charming man to everyone on the outside. They all liked him and considered him one of the kindest, most chivalrous men they'd ever met. He was (still is, since he's still alive) a war veteran. And for the year and a half that we lived with him, he raped me about twice a week. He also enjoyed strangling me - occasionally in public to prove to me that I was utterly powerless and that no one would rescue me. No one ever did.

Now may be a good time to mention Rule #1 of this blog: Don't pity me. I neither need it nor want it. I write about my abuse history and past traumas as a way of working through them, and also to put them out there for whatever good they might do for someone else.

Having said that, I'm not going to deny that being raped is a horrible experience. It is terrible. But it (for me) is terrible in ways that are different from what people who haven't experienced it expect. It wasn't the rape itself that was so traumatic, although I'd heard that it is so many times that I believed myself to be so fucked up that I was even traumatized wrong. For me, the rape only traumatized me in that it revealed all sorts of vulnerabilities that I'd been unaware of.

As a woman (and as a child), I've been told that I'm more likely to be victimized than men so many times that it is ingrained in me. The fact that I'm so much smaller and physically weaker than most men, and even many women, is simply a fact of life to me. It is no more threatening to me on a day-to-day basis than my family history of cancer. It just is what it is - we are all vulnerable in some ways, and in order to function as people we must be able to accept it and move on.

So the rape came as no surprise to me, in the sense that I always knew that I was physically vulnerable to victimization because of my size. What did come as a shock were all the other vulnerabilities that I had never before recognized: the stunning revelation that my mother couldn't and wouldn't always protect me, that "nice men" are often the least so, that certain "friends" will abandon you in your time of need... These are all things that I would have naturally learned during my adolescence and adulthood, but having them proved to me so suddenly and violently at such a young age shook my foundation. It wasn't the known threats that I feared - it was the unknown. I suddenly knew that I could be hurt in ways that I hadn't even been able to imagine yet.

At the time I was too young to even have perspective on my reaction to victimization. After the abuse was discovered (I never told) and he went to jail, I started the court-ordered and state-funded therapy. My therapist seemed frustrated by me. I wasn't going through the "stages" that she insisted that all rape victims go through. Ironically, it was first in therapy that I began to fear that I might be "crazy." Since then I've also realized that therapists, who I once thought always knew what they were talking about, don't have all the answers. They are guessing just as much as I am.

I will admit that in all of the years since then, I've never heard of or read about another rape victim who reacted to rape the same way that I did. A little part of me still worries that I might be crazy, but after a lot of thinking, I really believe that my response was as healthy and as life-affirming as possible given the circumstances. I've never, ever told anyone this particular detail before. I have no idea the response I'll get, and it may even offend people.

I felt empowered. And it was my sense of empowerment, not the rape, that made me feel "dirty."

The best thing that ever happened to me were all of the times that I heard a teacher, or a police officer, or someone on television say it is never okay and never your fault when an adult touches you in a bad way. I believed it. I internalized it. It made sense to me, and I never once questioned it. So tell your children that. Often.

I knew from the very first moment that what he did was wrong, and that it was his fault. I never felt that I deserved blame for it. I never experienced the misplaced guilt that my therapist was so utterly convinced I should be experiencing.

I felt empowered because the moment he placed his hands on me inappropriately, he made himself my bitch. I didn't need him at all, but he needed me. He needed my silence. His future was mine to control. I could destroy his life with a word.

I did not feel angry with him for raping me. I felt disgusted by him, and I thought him pathetic for being less powerful than a child.

Perhaps it was an unconscious survival strategy. No matter. If it was, it worked.

This isn't to say that I never felt anger, fear, shame, and all of those other ugly emotions that come with victimhood. I just didn't experience them for the reasons that I had been told I should. Being made to believe that my feelings were wrong, that I was responding the "wrong" way to rape, screwed me up more than the rape itself did. My child logic was that the rape was all his fault, and that I was not responsible or blameworthy in any way for it. But my reaction to it was all on me - if it was "wrong," then there must be something wrong with me. I thought this meant that I was inherently sick, and the rape just revealed it to the world.

But then, I suppose that there are worse things in life than being bad at being a victim.

Anyhow, I explained that whole mess so that you could have a better understanding of where I am coming from now.

My desire to submit has always been baffling to me, given that I am not a submissive woman by nature. I do not think that it is right or wrong for a woman to submit. But I do think that there are right and wrong reasons for her to do so. If she does so because she thinks herself incompetent as a person, or undeserving of a relationship unless she allows her partner to always have his/her way, then that is unhealthy. If she does so because she believes that all women were put on earth for that very purpose, that (IMO) is unhealthy. But if she makes a conscious choice to do so, knowing that she can also make the opposite choice, then I think it can be beneficial in ways that are unexpected.

I have found submitting to Red remarkably empowering. At times in the past, I worried that my desire to submit, or be spanked, etc., may be unhealthy expressions of low self-esteem. I thought perhaps I was reenacting victimhood because that was "all I knew" (as in the "cycle of abuse"). But I've found that by submitting to my husband, I am affirming to myself that my agency is mine to give. If I can give it to him, then I can take it back. I have the power to manipulate my own power, to choose who to give it to, when, and how much. As a child, power was something that other people (adults) had. They all had it and could use it how they wanted, but they never gave it to me. If they sensed that I had any, they snatched it away. It was something that they inflicted upon me. I was never taught and never understood that I had agency of my own.

Submission is like stretching - I stretch when I work out in order to condition my muscles and make them able to be stronger when I need them to be. The more flexible I can be, the less prone to injury I am, and the stronger I can ultimately be. And just like when I'm able to lift heavier weights, or jog longer on the treadmill, I'm delighted by my own improvement.

It is pleasurable to me to be able to experiment with my own power. It is thrilling to me to see how much of it I can give to my husband, while still possessing it myself. It is also a wonder to me that I am with a man who I can trust so much. Should I slip, should I give up too much, should I start crossing invisible line between healthy and unhealthy, I know he will protect me while he helps me back on track.

I've found myself suddenly curious about my new found ability to be vulnerable without fear. Suddenly I find myself craving the feeling of being vulnerable to him. I want him to take more control so that I can give more. I want him to know all of my secrets (too bad I have none from him). For a spanko, I've always been extremely vanilla. I didn't know if I'd like being restrained, but found that the vulnerability felt good. It surprised me. Now I want to know how many other things that I will discover that I enjoy.

I've developed an odd fascination with anal play [insert blush here]. I say odd, not because I think anal play itself is odd, but because I've never associated my anus with any kind of eroticism. I'm a bit of a germophobe, so I have no desire to experience the physical reality of anal play.

What fascinates me so much is the intense vulnerability of allowing another person access to that part of your body. To me, that seems like the most vulnerable you could ever physically be with your partner. I wonder how that vulnerability feels.

I wonder if I have the power to be that vulnerable.

Dr. Gentle and Mr. Tan-Your-Hyde

2007-10-26T14:23:00.000-04:00

I nearly forgot how different the different kinds of spankings can be, but especially how different my husband can be while administering each kind. As I mentioned a few posts ago, I've gone unspanked for quite a while due to various reasons. My bottom has, er, make that "had," returned to virgin status.

Last night my husband decided to spank me. It wasn't a punishment spanking, it was a "because I can and you need it" spanking. Lately (relatively speaking, since he hasn't spanked me in a while), he has been sending me to the toy box with instructions to reach in without looking and pull out the first thing my hand touches. This time it touched the London Tanners ruler paddle. I groaned.

"You know, nothing in that box is going to make you any happier."

"Hmph." I know this. It doesn't matter if it is a theoretically less painful implement... it is all in how he uses it. And he seems to feel freer using the leather implements, given their relative safety compared to, say, our big wooden paddle. Hence, the groan.

So I got spanked. No warm up. With the ruler paddle. I was yelping and squirming immediately.

Now, I know it's been a while for me, but I'd forgotten just how much that ruler paddle can sting. Plus, my bottom was a lily-white virgin again. I could not believe how much it hurt every time that paddle made contact.

But I couldn't help but wonder at how different my husband is when he is punishing me than when he is giving me a more playful spanking. You'd think the punishments would be harder. You'd think.

When Red is punishing me, he is very quiet and somber. He speaks to me seriously, but gently, and spanks with a fairly consistent rhythm. I end up with a warm, sore bottom, but the pain generally passes quickly. I frequently feel that he let me off fairly easily, but then, I don't earn punishments very often.

When the spanking is more playful, for some reason Red seems to have far less discomfort with the idea of hurting me. He clearly enjoyed my reaction to each swat that fell, and he was downright gleeful after swatting me right across the middle of my bottom, catching both cheeks with roughly equal force. I emitted a particularly high-pitched squeal in response. Red said something about how he liked how my bottom looked when he did that, and swatted me again in the same spot. Grrr.

Afterward, he rubbed Capzasin on my bottom to make sure I'd feel it the rest of the night. He has become far too fond of the Capzasin lately. I'd like to confiscate it, but, well... that probably wouldn't be a good idea.

Today when Red asked me how I was feeling, I told him that I was sitting on a still-sore bottom. He grinned, and congratulated himself on his "craftmanship." Double grrr.

This Thing We Do: Domestic Discipline vs. Punishment Kink Revisited

2007-10-25T10:12:00.000-04:00

This post by Natty at The Punishment Book:

http://www.punishmentbook.org/2007/10/domestic-discip.html#more

made me think more about my use of the label "domestic discipline" to describe the arrangement I have with my husband. What those words mean to me intuitively seem to mean something very different to most people in domestic discipline chat groups. So I figured it was worth examining more closely what this term means to me, as well as other, related words, like "submission."

I suppose when it comes to the lexicon of "this thing we do" (a phrase that I've garnered from The Punishment Book, and now Dyke Grrl's new discussion forum which I've added a link to under the "Forums" section), I've taken a more literal view on the words "domestic discipline." I've used this term as a shorthand for "this thing we do," out of a sheer desire to have a name for it. I suppose it makes me feel like I understand it better than I really do.

To me, "domestic discipline" refers to a relationship structure that incorporates discipline within the private sphere of the home. My husband and I actually have an egalitarian relationship. We make decisions together, and my opinion has equal value to his, unless it is a decision that is within the realm of either his or my expertise as professionals. He is an attorney, so I tend to leave the legal details of running the household to him. Basically, he and I accept more responsibility in the areas of life where we are the strongest, and defer to each other where we are the weakest. We seem to complement each other well that way.

The term that I've always had the most discomfort with is "punishment kink," because it seems to validate the arguments of the spankos who can't imagine using spanking for anything other than sexual kicks. To me, it implies that our discipline arrangement is nothing more than elaborate foreplay which is ultimately for the purpose of getting off. I'm not going to claim that there aren't aspects of this discipline relationship that can be sexually exciting. There is an element of eroticism embedded in it, but to call it purely a kink would be much too reductive. But, in fairness, my erotic inclination toward spanking likely paved the way for my preference for and comfort with this particular structure.

But when I am disciplined, it is real. Perhaps this is where I need to clarify my use of "domestic discipline" even more. There seems to be a general attitude in online domestic discipline groups that it is somehow "natural" that a woman submit, that she was "created to do so," and most annoyingly, "God commands her to submit." To me, this is all bunk. If I "submit" to my husband at all, it is by my own choosing, and for exclusively secular reasons.

In a way, what I call "domestic discipline" is, at its base, is no different from a healthy vanilla relationship, except for that it incorporates spanking. Ultimately, what discipline does for me in my relationship is keep lines of communication open at all times, and keeps me in a receptive frame of mind. Let me be clear: I love my husband more than I even know how to cope with at times. He is a good, honest, and loving man who deserves the best of everything in this world. I don't ever want to close my mind to his feelings or to his point of view. I want him to be very comfortable telling me what he thinks and feels at all times, even if he fears that it might hurt me. My hope is that, by telling my husband that he is free to discipline me with spanking, or however else he deems appropriate, that it opens the path for him to communicate freely with me. Instead of worrying that he shouldn't let me know something I did to upset him because it might hurt me, I want him to think, "Well, if she can take a spanking, then she can surely handle hearing my opinions."

This also helps me to stay in a receptive head space. There are days when the little annoying issues get to me. I start feeling like I do everything for him, and that he makes life a lot harder for me. He freely admits that he can be a difficult man to live with. My feelings aren't necessarily invalid, but that is beside the point. I don't want to allow those feelings to place a wedge between the two of us. Yeah, it is fine for me to grumble when I wipe up the huge mess he left on the kitchen counter again, but that's going to be as far as it goes. I'm free to tell him about my feelings, and he has always been receptive to them. But I will not allow myself to treat him poorly in any way, or fail to respect his feelings, merely because I'm annoyed by his sloppiness. I didn't marry him for his housekeeping skills. Knowing that I've given my consent for him to spank me if I'm disrespectful, or if I've broken one of the rules that we've agreed to, helps me to always stay mindful of my treatment of him, and of our relationship. When I fail to treat him as well as he deserves, it hurts me emotionally more than he could ever hurt me physically with a spanking. And the spanking, when it happens, helps us both to attune ourselves to each other's needs once more.

There are other benefits for me as well. Having this structure helps me to deal with my insecurities. I've always had a "good girl" complex. I fear mistakes. I don't mean that I dislike mistakes... I mean I fear them. They have an unlimited and unpredictable potential chain of consequences. Mistakes leave me feeling incredibly vulnerable. Having this discipline structure in place is like having guardrails on either side of my path. If I start behaving disrespectfully, or if I start to disregard the rules that we've mutually established, then the discipline helps me get back on track. It also means that I don't have to fear making a mistake unwittingly that could potentially hurt our marriage.

Last night, Red and I were discussing my need for discipline. When I break a rule and know I'm going to be punished, I tend to get very upset with myself. I generally cry.

Red asked, "doesn't it make it worse to have these rules, because it gives you more fear of the ways in which you could screw up?"

"No," I explained. "It makes it better. Without clear rules and consequences, I have no way of knowing where the limits are, when I've crossed them, or where the unpredictable negative consequences will end. If I know where the limits are, then I can do my best to steer clear of them. If I do screw up and break a rule, then the consequences are limited too. I get punished, and then I am forgiven." The rules may seem superficial at times, but they protect the really dangerous zones. If I get a spanking for having a temper tantrum, then I'm not even going to have a chance to come near becoming a heinous, uncaring bitch of a wife who is steering full speed ahead into divorce.

I have a very good thing with my husband. I want to treat it with care so that it will last for a lifetime. When I say things like, "I submit to my husband," it doesn't mean that I'm a mindlessly obedient wife. It means that I do everything I can to put his needs ahead of my own, and to love him in the way that he deserves. I know that he does the same thing for me.

So I guess, the best way I know how to say it is that when you add (my notions of) "domestic discipline" and my "punishment kink" together, what you end up with is "This Thing We Do."

Domestic Discipline vs. Punishment Kink

2007-10-24T10:53:00.000-04:00

So, as a spanko who uses spanking for both erotic and disciplinary purposes, I'm always asked how a spanking can be punishment if I'm turned on by it. The question is certainly a reasonable one, and one for which I don't know if I have a full answer. But I can tell you from experience that spankings can be erotic, they can be punishment, and they can be erotic punishment.

Erotic spanking isn't something that I have to explain to most people, and certainly not to other spankos. The vulnerability and exposure to one's partner can be very sexy and exciting. The rubbing, and the wandering hands can certainly be arousing. Lighter swats and slower, firmer ones can provide wonderful stimulation. And the reason for it is simply that it feels good to us, it excites us, and it is a part of our love-making. It's all good... except the pain. I'm not a masochist. But the pain is usually necessary for much of the pleasurable aspects to occur. So it is worth it.

Erotic punishments are generally the same... many spankos play at punishments. Most of the spanking videos I've seen depict punishment scenarios. In personal scenes, a woman might don a schoolgirl uniform and bend over for her authoritative "instructor." My husband and I don't roleplay personally, but we still have erotic punishments... For example, if I playfully sass him, or tickle him, he'll certainly pull me over his lap and spank me - often quite hard. Once, he gave me a spanking with the remote control (the closest "impliment" at the time) that left me bruised and sore for a week.

The domestic discpline and punishment spankings are the trickier ones. The fact is, there are very few women who are willing to incorporate spankings as a form of discipline in their marriage (or discipline at all) if they are not first turned on by spankings. So is the whole discipline arrangement an elaborate kind of foreplay? Perhaps in an indirect way, yes. But punishment spankings are punishment. They are real and to be avoided. Ultimately, my husband and I are serious when it comes to discipline.

I've done a lot of thinking about this. There are all kinds of insecurities that come with a punishment kink. Most people have little reaction to a spanking fetish, but many people, spankos even, will think you're twisted if you get spanked for punishment. There are the constant, and generally unsuccessful attempts to explain it. Quite frankly, I'm tired of explaining it. Those who do not understand it will likely never understand it. And those who do may never be able to explain it, but they will also tell you that no matter how contradictory it may seem, it is real. It is what it is, and we've just got to struggle to come to terms with it.

But as for the erotic vs. discipline question... I'll give explaining it another shot.

Spankings hurt. Even the erotic spankings hurt. I am not sexually stimulated by pain. Therefore, it is not really the spanking itself that turns me on.* What does turn me on is the intimacy with my husband, the touching, the giggling, the teasing, and most of all, knowing that he is excited by me too. There is a special aspect of vulnerability to spanking that, for me, is an expression of love for my husband. It plays on a different set of difficult-to-describe emotions than intercourse. There is little, if any, power exchange play involved in intercourse. Sure, there is some vulnerability to it - you are naked and doing some very intimate touching - but ultimately, both partners are equal.

When I allow him to spank me, I am telling him physically that I trust him with my whole self. I am lying face down, and usually cannot easily see what he is doing... Now, for an abuse survivor like me, this is a huge deal - I'm taking a submissive, vulnerable posture. I'm at a physical disadvantage. I would not be able to defend myself well, should he choose to actually hurt me.** It is quite possibly the only time when I can honestly say, "I don't know what is going to happen next, I can't control it, and I'm okay with that." For me, that brings powerful emotions that I honestly cannot name. Partly, there is a sense of relief. It is the only time that I relax my defenses in any significant way. Another part is that it is incredibly healing to trust a man and have it turn out as a positive experience. But there is more to it than that that I don't know how to define.

Although I enjoy erotic spankings, I do not enjoy punishment spankings. They hurt. I feel badly that my husband is unhappy with me. More often than not, I cry. I'm embarrassed that I'm being punished. There is no sexual gratification involved with the spanking.

But there are positive aspects that, when taken all together, result in me being more relaxed, focused, and ultimately attracted to my husband (hence, the indirect arousal.)

First of all, there is the motif of cleansing, the journey from transgression to forgiveness. I've never been good at self-forgiving, so for me, that journey acts as a kind of instruction... I've done something for which I feel badly, I pay a price, and ultimately, I am forgiven. When I hurt a friend, I apologize to them, and hopefully they forgive me. But I have a bond with my husband that I've never had with anyone else. It hurts me much more deeply to know that I have hurt him. So making my way to forgiveness is a much steeper climb. The spanking is a climb we take together, that I ultimately feel brings us closer.

But being punished also makes me feel loved (I may not recognize it at the time, because I'm wallowing in my own misery, but ultimately, it does). To know that there is someone who loves me enough to pay attention to the things I do and step in, even against my will if necessary, and stop me from doing something destructive, is awesome. (I mean "awesome" in the literal sense, as something that inspires awe. Although it is "cool" too.) It is a powerful gesture for a man to make to risk rejection, or worse, criminal charges, by spanking me when I deserve it. To be worth that risk for someone... well, to me, I feel amazingly loved. It also tells me that he trusts me as much as I trust him.

Sure, you could argue that a crazy or abusive man would be equally willing to take that risk. You'd be right. But remember, we're only talking about my relationship with my husband, and our discipline relationship is something that we continually discuss and negotiate.

Ultimately, going through such a powerful experience (punishment) with my husband, becoming more connected with him, trusting him by placing myself physically in his hands, and having him trust me not to betray him... that is what leads to the sense of arousal. It is not the direct, physical, sexual stimulation of an erotic spanking, but it is an emotional arousal that results in a similar contented buzz. So, domestic discipline and the punishment kink are both present. They are not the same, but they are certainly connected.

Whew. I sure hope that makes sense. :)

*In case it isn't clear, all of this comes from my subjective experience. If you identify with it, great! If you think I'm wrong, that's cool too. To each their own. I'm not trying to speak from a place of authority. I have none. I am only trying to work through my own thoughts and feelings.
**This isn't actually a question - my husband would never abuse me in any way. I'm simply trying to say that willful vulnerability is not intuitive for an abuse survivor, or for any woman, for that matter. It has special significance.

Unspanked

2007-10-22T21:47:00.000-04:00

I've gone unspanked, not including the occasional swat in passing, for a couple of months now. There have been plenty of reasons and opportunities for my husband to spank me. There have certainly been at least a few occasions when I deserved one. But I've remained unspanked.

There are a few reasons for this. The main reason is that my husband has been ill for about 10 months now. Nothing fatal, but it certainly makes life harder for both of us. His energy is drained most of the time, and when he does have energy, he generally has quite a bit of pain too. So his ability to spank has been severely limited.

There are other reasons too. My husband (who is RhodeIslandRed on the few forums he is on - so I'll call him "Red" from now on) and I are still negotiating our roles. When we began our relationship, we only used spanking for erotic purposes, and even then there was some negotiating and learning to be done. But things fell in place fairly easily considering.

Discipline is a whole different animal. For my husband, he questions his "right" to punish me. He, like most men, was taught not only to not hit women, but also to respect them as equals in all things. The "no hitting women" hurdle has probably been the easiest hurdle we've had to leap. Spanking, in our relationship, is consensual, so it is simply not the same thing as abuse.

But what gives him the right to punish me? Neither one of us buys into the Christian idea that women were made to submit to their husbands. I'm an ardent feminist, and I must admit, this "created to be his help meet" stuff makes me sick to my stomach. We came into our marriage as equals, we believe that we are equals, and we treat each other as equals. So why does he get to discipline me even though I do not get to discipline him?

The truth of the matter is that I don't really know. The only reason that he has the "right" is because I gave it to him. Our discipline arrangement is largely for my benefit, although it does benefit him as well. It makes me feel secure, although the reasons for this I haven't quite figured out yet. Perhaps I'll write a separate post about my thoughts on this.

Just because I've explicitly given him the right to discipline me when needed doesn't mean that he's necessarily comfortable with invoking this right when the situation calls for it... partly because we're still negotiating which situations call for it. I've told my husband that I trust him... we do have a few specific rules, but I've also put myself into his hands. He is allowed to punish me however he deems fit (this generally means a spanking, but not always), but he doesn't always know when he is really being reasonable in choosing to punish me. Sure, there are times when I fly off the handle and am disrespectful to him, but what about the extenuating circumstances? His illness has been a major stressor - he can hardly fault me for being tense about it. I've told him that I'm willing to take the risk of receiving an undeserved punishment. I'd rather that than go unpunished when I do deserve it. Still, I see how this is a difficult decision for him to make. He needs to feel comfortable that he's not abusing me. I am hoping that the longer we do this, the easier it will become for him.

As for me, I struggle with integrating my need for discipline with my beliefs and other aspects of my personality. As I've said, I'm an ardent feminist. I don't believe that the two are necessarily in opposition. I believe that feminism is about choice, and so long as I'm in this kind of relationship by choice, then it is not in conflict with my feminism. As an overall ideology, I'm quite comfortable with this.

The day-to-day details are what give me trouble. I'm still not completely sure where to draw the line between when to defer to Red, and when to assert myself. I'm the most comfortable when I submit to my husband, but there are certain issues in which I am simply the better decision maker. I've been the better financial manager. I used to handle all of our finances, but lately we've been making a point of going over our bills and budget together every month. This is not something that either one of us is comfortable with putting it entirely in his hands. On the other hand, he is much better with business issues, dealing with the taxes, creditors, he is the one who handled the writing of our wills, etc. Am I giving up too much control by allowing him to make decisions on credit card accounts on which I am the primary card holder?

One of my biggest insecurities, though, has to do with being an adult. I know it is a common insecurity for women who get spanked to worry that perhaps they are not being adults... I worry about this too. For me, it has a lot to do with my childhood. There was a lot of ugly abuse that went on, and I was held responsible for being an adult while the adults in my life behaved like children. I worry that perhaps I am being a child now because I couldn't be when I actually was a child. I do not want my husband put in the position of "raising" his wife. He married me to be my husband, not my father.

And speaking of fathers... my husband is old enough to be mine. Which just makes the insecurity even worse... I've been the butt of well-intended jokes about looking like his daughter. What if in some ways I really was looking for a father figure? I don't think I was... but how can I really be sure?

I'm sure there are even more reasons why this discipline arrangement is complicated, and I just haven't thought of them yet. Online there seem to be so many couples who have it all together. I can't help but wonder how they do it. I can't help but especially envy those who are comfortable enough to be extroverted about it. I would love to be able to establish closer friendships with other people who have similar relationships... but I just haven't been able to "come out" quite that far.

Rough Start

2007-10-16T21:42:00.000-04:00

Even though hubby and I were both spankos, and both knew the other was a spanko from the day we met, we still have had our share of bumps in the road. It took a while for him to feel comfortable spanking me at all, and when he finally did, it was only for play, and it was fairly gentle. He was going through what I suppose many Tops have gone through... He felt guilty for wanting to spank me because he was taught never to hit a woman, and was so afraid of abusing me that he'd give me a few gentle pats, and it would be over. It was a frustrating period for me, because I didn't know how to encourage him. He already knew I wanted it, but I guess he needed to work through his feelings at his own pace.

Things did get better. Over the course of our marriage, we've amassed quite a collection of impliments. He's paddled me until I'm bruised, and given me welts with straps. It scared him, of course, at first. Seeing me bruised understandably brought back the "abuse" concerns for him, but I was quick to assure him that I didn't mind the marks at all. In fact, they were a badge of honor, in a way. Fortunately he overcame that bump a bit faster.

Now we are working on a domestic discipline relationship. Using spanking for punishment has been much harder to work out than play spankings were, for both of us. This is where things have gotten the most difficult for me. I have a "good girl" complex. I'm terrified of making mistakes, and most of the time I behave myself quite well. And yet for some inexplicable reason, I feel a very strong need for discipline. I need to know that my husband loves me enough to put his foot down with me. I need to know that he is interested enough in me to pay attention to what I do and don't do. But when spanking time arrives, it gets a little less clear...

The first time I was ever to be punished... I fainted. My husband had just begun to spank me, and he was scolding me at the same time. He told me he was disappointed in me, and that triggered a panic attack. I started to hyperventilate, and he stopped spanking me immediately and made me get up. Unfortunately, making a person who is hyperventilating get up quickly isn't the best thing to do... I dropped like a bag of bricks.

So we were right back at square one. Hubby didn't spank me again for a long time after that. It scared the bejesus out of both of us. For me, though, I was most afraid that he'd never spank me again. I was afraid that I'd never again feel the connection with my husband that I feel when he spanks me.

Fortunately, we did eventually move past that. We're currently working on a domestic discipline relationship... I have rules that I'm expected to follow, and if I break them, I get punished. My husband doesn't always feel it necessary to punish me... for smaller infractions he's made me write apology letters and things like that.

I still feel I don't get spanked enough. I'm not sure why I feel like I need to be spanked so much, but I do. Right now I feel like he could spank me every day and it still wouldn't be enough. I've considered deliberately earning a punishment, but I just can't bring myself to do it. I love my husband too much to manipulate him that way, and I really do respect the rules that we've established.

Well, hubby is actually calling me now. I'd better go see what he wants... or else I'll get punished. ;)

--Rose

Welcome to my spanko blog

2007-10-15T19:43:00.000-04:00

Being an avid reader of other spanko blogs, I figured I would end up creating my own at some point. I've got to be honest though - I have no idea how interesting this blog will be. I consider my life to be pretty mundane, and as I am still in the process of figuring out my spanko inclinations, I don't exactly have a lot of insight to offer. Mostly this blog will likely be a way for me to sort out my thoughts by writing, which is something that frequently helps me.

So, I guess I'll start with the spanko part... I've been a spanko for as long as I can remember. As a kid, I can remember being instantly interested whenever someone would talk about spanking. I'd blush and try to pretend that I wasn't really listening. I was too young to know about sex, so I didn't at that point connect the feelings that I had with sexuality. All I knew was that I was totally fascinated with spanking, and that somehow, this made me weird and I shouldn't talk about it. But I was always thinking about it. I can't even begin to estimate how many times I checked The Lonely Doll, by Dare Wright, out of the local library.

I tried to force spanking out of my mind, as I knew it was something "twisted" and that I shouldn't be thinking about. I failed miserably, however, and when puberty hit and the hormones began to rage, I found myself thinking about it even more. I felt a little paranoid that everyone could tell I was a freak, like I was wearing a "spanko" label on my forehead. In my teens, however, I finally got my own computer, and as I've heard so many others say before, I typed the word "spanking" into a search engine, and my whole world changed. I still felt like a freak, but at least I was in good company!

I met my husband as I was lurking in a spanko chat room. He spotted my screen name, checked my profile, which had numerous literary references in it, and instant messaged me. We chatted online for about a year and a half before I finally gave him my phone number. Then we spoke on the phone for about a year and a half before we finally met in person. We got engaged six months after meeting in person. We have been happily married for several years now, and and we've been working on a constantly evolving domestic discipline arrangement that includes spanking in addition to the erotic spankings that he gives me.

In the online community, I lurked on various spanking related websites, forums, and blogs until January 2007. I'd been feeling terribly lonely, since I had no one with whom to talk about spanking except my husband, and so my New Year's resolution was to come out of the online spanko closet and make some spanko friends. It has been one of the greatest things I've ever done. Since I began chatting with other spankos about my thoughts, feelings, problems, etc., I've come a long way toward accepting myself, my needs, and my sexual proclivities.

So I suppose that this blog is to be my personal contribution to the online spanko community. I hope that you will continue to read here, but even more than that, I hope that I will have useful things to say! Thank you for coming. I will be posting more soon.

--Rose