Distance Running

If you ever want a good exercise in communication with your significant other, go on a distance run together.

I'm an avid distance runner--I ran cross country through high school, and I've more recently done both half and full marathons (slowly). My husband and I have been training for an approaching 10 mile run. Usually we have to run separately, since our work schedules do not coincide, but, on the weekends, we can usually get a long run in together.

Now running is frustrating enough as it is. Anyone who runs knows that the benefits of running are far better than the actual activity itself. I'm never in a good mood by the end of my run--I'm usually hot, tired, sweaty, and in the mood to sit and cool down for a while. Then, after about a half hour, I start feeling pretty good and energized. But the run itself...

I was not prepared for the frustration of distance road running with a partner. When I run by myself, I can cross roads when I want, stop when I want, and turn around when I want, and I don't have to say anything to anyone--I just do it. When I'm with my husband, I have to convey all of these things in an intelligible sentence, which is not always feasible at mile 5 of an uphill--or at any other point, for that matter.

For example: say there's an approaching car on a mildly traveled road with lots of curves. What do you do? Well, my habit has been to cross the road so as to allow the car to continue on without having to cross the center line. My husband's practice is to stand his ground in the middle of the lane, forcing the car to briefly face oncoming traffic, if any. So, what did we do in this situation? Well, I often crossed, and my husband often stayed, creating a sort of runner "tunnel" through which the car had to travel. Or, one of us would make a mad dash at the last second to the other side of the road, followed by a statement such as "I hate when you do that!" or "Would you please say something when you're going to cross!!??"

We got a little bit better at it, but not much. We were constantly dashing around the road, trying to predict what the other would do. By the end, we had developed a sort of grunting, breathy language of commands, such as "Cruuss (pant) now," "Rit," or "Lft," usually accompanied by some vague pointing and/or flailing.

We were never in a good mood by the end of the run, especially if it was hot. But we agreed that it was definitely a good lesson in communication and adaptability. And we did enjoy the feeling of having accomplished something together, even if it was a simple 6 mile run. That feeling of enjoyment was usually enhanced by something like beer or ice cream, perhaps lessening some of the health benefits of running.

In any case, I still think I prefer to run on my own, but I like a good challenge with my husband :)

Guilt Absolved

We got in a fight. I was disrespectful. He was disrespectful. He stormed out of the house and was gone for a few hours.

He texted me later:

"I'm sorry I left the way I did, babe. I thought it was a good opportunity to be a Dom, but I blew it by storming out."

.     .     .

There is no rule that an HoH has to be perfect in every situation. Passion and emotion can get the best of anyone, at times, and my husband and I both work to keep our negative emotions in control when we disagree. We've learned a lot already and we work hard at it, but, inevitably, we misstep and both act the way we don't want to act sometimes.

I know this question gets thrown around a lot in reference to DD, but how does an HoH handle a situation where a punishment would be helpful, but both he and his partner are at fault for something? 

I suppose in any DD relationship, since no HoH on earth is perfect, there has to be an agreement that an HoH can use punishment in a situation that merits it, even when he has made a mistake as well. I can't speak for other couples (in fact, I'm interested to hear how others have handled this), but I can tell you how we deal with it.

This is something I foresaw when we first started DD. I knew there would be times when we both made mistakes--where we both said things we didn't mean. But I convinced my husband that it was OK for us to absolve our guilt differently. I reassured him that I would not hold a grudge against him when he needed to punish me for something he himself had also done. In fact, I asked him if he would spank me when we fought or argued disrespectfully, so that I could get rid of my bad feelings and move on from it. I told him, I would do whatever he wanted to help him move on from those situations, as well--though I knew he wouldn't be asking me to spank him, haha.

So it was, when we argued the other night, I hoped he would come home and give me the spanking I knew I deserved. But it seemed his conscience wouldn't allow him to punish me for something we'd both done. He decided not to spank or punish me for my role in our earlier fight. At first, I thought I was OK with it, but, as the night wore on, I felt as if there were still a wall between us--as if something were preventing us from moving on.

Upon my request, he finally took me over his lap before bed.

"The way you acted this evening was not acceptable, young lady," he said, as he smacked my bare cheeks. "Yes, we were both disrespectful, but this is how I deal with your disrespect."

He used only his hand to punish me, and I felt my hard feelings from the argument melting away with each blow.

His smacks were hard and firm for several minutes as he lectured me about disrespect. Then, they subsided into lighter, more playful smacks, and I knew the punishment was over. It was becoming something else.

We recently decided to clearly differentiate between pleasure and punishment spankings, but this seamless transition between the two did not bother me. I knew that I had been punished and that now I was supposed to enjoy the rest.

His playful smacks turned into light taps in all the right places. I squirmed over his lap, begging with my actions for him to stop teasing me, and he sternly told me to "Calm down, young lady," which only made things worse.

Finally, he flipped me over and did something to absolve his guilt ;)

Domestic Discipline 2.0

We've developed an unhealthy pattern over the past several weeks. I won't bother listing the possible reasons for it, but, the truth is, we are far from living DD 24/7. I'm OK with that. I don't need the lifestyle 24/7 to be happy, but I need to practice it sometimes--a couple times a day, once a day, even once every couple of days. But it's been more like once every other week, which is not good, because this is what happens:

It starts with one remark from me. I'll snap at my husband, say something disrespectful, or order him to do something, and he won't respond. Even if I apologize, he'll brush it off and we'll move on without any consequence other than guilt. But the hidden consequence of leniency, as any submissive in DD can attest to, is resentment. 

It doesn't happen all at once, so it's hard to tell exactly when I begin to resent my husband. But I'll admit that if I get away with disrespect once, it's that much easier for me to do it again. Pretty soon, I'll have frequent bouts of disrespect, and my resentment will grow with each remark that goes unpunished, and I'll start to think that my husband doesn't care or that he's ignoring DD. And then one day, I'll have what I call a "mini meltdown," where all of my frustrations and stress and resentment come pouring out in a river of complaints, and I'll finally get a serious spanking.

Then I'll feel loved, cared for, happy, and respectful for a few days, until I get away with another remark, and the cycle will begin all over again.

This is no way to live a DD life. I like to compare our current situation to "going on a diet"--we are on the diet where we eat nothing but healthy stuff for one week and then completely let go on day 7 and binge eat all the junk food ever, rather than the diet where we eat healthy, but allow ourselves small treats every day or couple of days.

I need to stop "binge living" the DD lifestyle. I want to live it more frequently, but in smaller portions, rather than every other week in one large session.

So, after a particularly frustrating venting session of stress and resentment to my husband the other night, I told him that something needed to change. After some serious discussion, we came up with Domestic Discipline 2.0:

1. Less spanking. I know, this sounds counter-intuitive, but the fact of the matter is I love to be spanked. And the problem we run into is this: my husband will hug me, then, in the middle of the hug, lightly chastise me and spank me. In my mind, it's a fun, playful spanking, and, in his mind, it's a reminder/mini punishment for some remark or behavior from me.
2. If spanking is used for punishment, it is a separate action from any intimacy. This stems from the previous item, in that, if my husband does decide to spank me for something, it will not be while he's hugging me or cuddling with me. If it's a punishment, it will come with no touching or intimacy, so that I don't become confused about what kind of spanking it is.
3. Other forms of punishment. In order to have on-the-spot discipline more often, we needed to come up with other things besides spanking, since my husband often doesn't have the desire or energy to give me a full-on punishment spanking. So, we've come up with many other "mini punishment" ideas, including small amounts of corner time, responding with "Sir" for the rest of the evening, writing and reflection, and--my husbands idea--physical exercises!
4. Weekly check-in. Once a week, we will check in with each other on how DD is going and decide if anything needs to change.

My husband decided to try this new version out last night when I rolled my eyes at something (jokingly!), and he made me stand in the corner, take off my clothes, hold my arms above my head for several minutes, and, finally, do 5 push-ups. Oh, and I also was spanked somewhere in the middle of that.

I have a feeling this new version of DD will not only improve our relationship, but also my arm strength!

Easy Access

Pants suck. I mean, they are practical, for sure, but I hate when I hug my husband, and he can't even grab my bare bottom because there is material and a belt blocking every access point. We usually don't have time for him to undo my belt and slide my pants down if we are having a quick hug before he or I leave the house.

But when I'm wearing a skirt or dress...that "quick" hug is also accompanied by some delicious hand on bare bottom contact. I get turned on by the simple act of wearing a skirt, knowing that my husband can, at a moment's notice, flip it up with a flick of his wrist and start caressing or smacking my bottom.

I bought this summer dress on sale a couple of days ago. It's cute, short, and flouncy--in other words, an all-access pass for my husband's hands to my bottom. Despite the obvious temptation, though, he did take the time to snap a picture:

I've been wearing the dress a lot lately. I have to take advantage of it while I can, because fall is right around the corner, and I'll be right back in boring old pants, boots, belts, and sweaters. Cold weather is such a buzz kill!

Secretary

The movie Secretary came out when I was in high school (sorry to make anyone feel old by that statement). At that time, already an avid spanko, I was a devoted lurker of the online spanking community. (Another apology guys, those "18 and over" warnings are there to make you feel good, not to actually deter anyone under 18). So it was that the first reviews I ever saw on the movie came from fellow spankos. It seemed everyone generally liked the movie, albeit with some complaints (specifically that the female protagonist is fresh out of a mental institution at the beginning of the movie--she's institutionally crazy so she must be submissive!)

I decided in high school that I had to see for myself what this movie was all about, so I watched it...alone. I don't remember much of it. I was too young to really get it, because, although I was into spanking I was turned off by BDSM, so I did not grasp the subtle nuances of power exchange and D/s between the characters. I walked away from the movie wishing there had been more spanking scenes, hahaha.

A few days ago, my husband and I watched it for the first time together. He'd never seen it before and I hadn't seen it since high school. Holy cow, what a different experience. Let's just say I've grown up now, and I understood all the subtle nuances of the intense battle between sexual and emotional desire and societal norms/obligations.

Let's back up, though. I jumped on the 50 Shades of Grey bandwagon two years ago and read the book series all the way through in about a week. I admittedly panted through most of the spanking and sex scenes, but generally thought that the books were terribly written with a plot ripped off from Twilight (also terribly written), and characters that were about as "relatable" as a pile of cow manure.

Well, re-watching Secretary not only confirmed those suspicions that 50 Shades is absolute shit, but I also realized about, oh, 5 minutes in, that the author also jacked over half of the beautiful, subtle, and powerful niceties of this movie, starting with the name of James Spader's character, E. Edward Grey (come on, that can't be a coincidence!) It was as if E.L. James saw Secretary, read Twilight, and thought "Hey, there's an idea...except I'll make the characters even better by making one an abusive, emo, billionaire control freak who gives up pretty much all of his sexual fantasies and life goals for an unbelievably naive, virgin, vanilla college girl who thinks her man's abusive and obsessive behavior is totally "going to change for her" because they're in love, of course."

Sarcasm aside, I understand the draw of 50 Shades of Grey, I really do. There's a reason it's so god damn popular. But after watching Secretary, I thought, now here is the closest our world has ever come to being realistically depicted in Hollywood, and here we are bitching that the protagonist isn't quite as feminist/strong/normal as we would have liked. Come on, people! I think it's time we make a vow that, on February 14th, when 50 Shades of Grey hits movie theaters, we spankos/DDers/Dsers/TTWDers cozy up at home with our significant others and rent Secretary.

Whether you re-enact the scenes afterward is totally up to you.

For more information on why Secretary "should be viewed immediately" and 50 Shades of Grey never, see this article on Buzzfeed (yes, Buzzfeed!)

Interrogation: Part II

This is the second part of a two-part post. If you want to read the first part, click here.

"Take off your shirt and your underwear," he said, firmly (my pants were already off at this point). I readily complied. "Go pick out two implements."

I opened our closet door and dug through the bag of implements. I couldn't see anything because we didn't have a light on in the room, so I chose to pull a "Mary Poppins," stick my hand in, and pull out whatever came up. Later, I would very much regret this decision.

I handed over the two implements.

"Now go stand in the corner, young lady; hands at your side," he said.

"What?! I wanted more spanking, not corner time! It's really dark over there," I whined.

"Go stand in the corner NOW," he replied.

Yikes, OK. I scrambled over to the corner. It was incredibly dark, and the door to the dank bathroom that we never use was open next to me, and it was creeping me out. I reached over and pulled the door shut, so I'd have more of an enclosed "corner" in which to stand.

"Did I say to close the bathroom door?" my husband walked over to me.

"No sir," I replied. He slapped my bare bottom several times and opened the bathroom door again. He left me there, and, when he was sure I was staying put, left the room. I was curious.  I wondered what he could possibly be doing in the middle of our time together...

The answer arrived in the form of a bright white light. He was wearing a headlamp for hiking that sits on a band around his head. The lamp has three settings: red, low beam, and high beam. The high beam lit up the room, focused directly on me in my corner. I'm sure he could see me rather well. I, on the other hand, could not see anything except for blinding white light. I squinted my eyes shut.

He told me to step forward and face him.

"What did you learn this evening?" he asked. It was hard to think while I was being temporarily blinded. I um'd and hmm'd a few times and came up with this:

"I need to be constructive about channeling my feelings, and, when I want your help, I need to ask you for help instead of asking if you want to do something," I said. (Pretty good, right!?)

"What else did you learn?" he asked.

"Ummmm...," I said.

"Get back in the corner," he said. I settled back into my corner, his piercing white light still fixed on me. I lasted 5 seconds at the wall before I burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of it. He looked like a coal miner, and this was like an interrogation session! To my knowledge, we hadn't discussed anything beyond what I had just told him. I knew he would not respond well to my laughter, but I truly could not keep it in.

He came over with implement number one: a light, plastic spatula that is quite sting-y. He slapped my bottom cheeks with the spatula for a few minutes, causing me to yelp and jump all over the place. I was not laughing by the end of it.

"Turn around and face me," he said, after several more minutes. "Now, tell me what you've learned."

"I've learned to ask you the right way when I need your help with something, I've learned to take your instructions seriously, and I've learned to respect you," I said. (Man, I nailed it! I thought).

"Yes...and? What else?" he said.

What?! He couldn't be serious. I was at a total loss. I racked my mind for anything else we had talked about or even didn't talk about, and came up with nothing. I stared into the bright white light questioningly.

"Back in the corner," he said.

Now, what happened next, I'm convinced was completely involuntary, as I couldn't look anywhere but down at the floor or up at the sky for being blinded if I looked straight ahead. Apparently I rolled my eyes and gave a little laugh before turning back around to face the corner...

OK, I probably rolled my eyes, and it probably was semi-voluntary, as I did not know what in God's name he wanted me to say.

Oh boy, this really did not go over well. I hadn't realized I'd done it, so when he charged over to me with implement number 2--a thick, thuddy wooden spoon that does not in any way contour to my bottom--I thought it was because I had failed to say something I should have learned that evening. He smacked my bottom over and over with that damn wooden spoon. I was cringing and yelping even more so than before.

"Do you want to know why I'm doing this?" he asked. I replied that I did. "Because you rolled your eyes at me, young lady."

Oh.

He sent me over to the bed where he laid me over the edge in preparation of roasting my bottom.

"Don't you EVER roll your eyes at me during a punishment, do you understand me? The next time you do that, you'll be in the corner all night--I'm not joking. That is a blatant sign of disrespect and contempt, and I will not have it from you when you're submitting to me," he smacked my bottom hard with that awful, thuddy spoon, and it hurt like hell. It was beyond the pain of any of our other implements. It went deep, and I was shaking, kicking my feet, gasping for breath, and grabbing the comforter for dear life. I thought for sure that I would pass out if he kept this up. Not to mention, I was sorely regretting my choice of implement.

He can read me too well, though, and he knows how far to push and when to let up. He switched to the sting-y spatula for a while that felt like near relief after the harsh wood. He ordered me to take a deep breath and to go get my body lotion from the bathroom. I complied, thinking we were done and he was going to soothe my bottom with some lotion.

Nope. He wanted to "prepare" my bottom for round 2 of the wooden spoon :(

He didn't want to chap my skin with the dry wood, so he massaged some lotion in and began anew with the assault on my now soft and supple bottom. He pushed me to my limits again and didn't stop until my bottom was on fire and I was one sorry young lady who would never roll her eyes during a punishment again.

When it was over, he set his headlamp on the dresser where it spotlit the bed. He gently laid me down on my stomach, and, for several minutes, I watched the wall behind the bed, mesmerized, as the magnified silhouette of his fingers stroked the curvaceous silhouette of my bottom. I could see my shadow bottom jiggle as his shadow hand lightly tapped it a few times.

Then we made love where I, once again, felt as if I were not myself, but a part of him--like we were one entity.

When we were cuddling together afterward, I asked him what on earth he expected me to say when he was grilling me on what I'd learned.

"Oh, nothing in particular," he said. "I was just playing mind games with you--classic interrogation technique, you know? You ask the same question over and over--make them think they're leaving something out." He laughed.

I have a mean husband.

Interrogation: Part I

Boy, did I get it good last night. More on that in Part II of this story, but, for now, let me describe the events that led to it.

A whole host of things happened throughout the evening to irritate me: it was my day off work, so I spent hours cleaning the kitchen and making a nice pork roast and cobbler dessert. I asked my husband if he wanted to clean up after dinner (we'll get to the wording of this request later). He hummed, hawed, and sighed about it, so I got up in a huff.

"Fine, I'll do it. Don't worry about it," I said, as I made my way into the kitchen. At that moment, I took the spoon out of a boiling hot BBQ sauce on the stove and it splattered all over my jeans, shirt, and feet :(

Later (after I changed, unloaded the dishwasher, and my husband cleaned up ;), we were sitting in the living room, and we somehow got into a debate on global warming, which irritated me to no end (I honestly don't know how we get into these topics).

The debate wound down into cantankerous silence, and he asked if I wanted to go for a walk, which I did. We stepped out into the late summer night and walked together around the neighborhood. I was somewhat distant, and, at one point, he asked if I wanted to walk separately. I said no, and a few minutes later, he turned me to him, grabbed my hair, and kissed me for several minutes right in the middle of the street. We walked for a few more minutes, when he did it a second time.

"Again?" I asked.

"What do you mean "again," he said. "I can stop and kiss you whenever I want."

I didn't argue with that, because it was really turning me on, kissing there in the middle of the street.

But by the time we got home, the "mood" had gone, and we were back to sitting in silence in the living room. I was unhappy, and he could tell.

"Come on," he led me to the bedroom, where we had a "discussion" over his lap. I was feeling particularly defiant and didn't bother to call him "sir." I laid out all my feelings and frustrations over his knee, and we talked about how I should word my requests from now on when I want his help. Apparently "Do you want to clean the kitchen" is not a good way to ask for help...

"You know what it comes down to, young lady. You're a woman. And you know I would do anything for my woman. If you word something in such a way that makes it seem like I'm helping you out, you're a lot more likely to get a positive response from me," he said. "If you ask me if I want to do a household chore, then no, I'm never going to want to do a household chore."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said, and then we thought of examples of how I could word requests in the future.

At this point, our "discussion" was just that--a discussion, and I was not getting the spanking and the submission I craved. He told me to roll off his lap, but I was not done.

"I want more," I said. "Will you please give me more?"

To be continued...