Very good post, I’ve been looking for something straight-forward and no-frills to read to DH on this topic.
Originally posted on AN EMERGING DOM:
I can recall the moments leading up to, during, and afterwards with great clarity. But I’m not sure I was prepared for how each of us would respond.
As her pussy began to saturate with each strike, I found my own desire intensifying. There was a release within both of us to something primal. And we each began to crave it deeply.
What is it about spankings that can stir up something so deep within us? How do you go about administering a spanking that deepens a bond and level of trust?
There is a plurality of understanding when it comes to spankings. On one hand, we are raised to not hit…
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Having recently returned from working in one of the poorest countries in this hemisphere, it is not difficult to count blessings I can often take for granted, the “”basic human needs that some of us just expect:
- A hot shower
- Drinkable water from the tap
- A/c and Heat
- Hygienic conditions for food
- Laws and protections
- Good roads
It’s also a time to think of all the blessings of my personal life:
- At the age of 34 (after a long, sometimes lonely single life) I married for the first time to a wonderful, good man; 22 years later still married and better than ever, and I get to spend the rest of my life with this amazing man!
- Our three amazing children, and their lives and accomplishments as young adults
- Parents who are well cared for in their old age
- A lovely home
- Financial stability
- Our health
- Our love renewed in this now properly-aligned, D/s marriage
- Trust in my Sir, my man, my husband
- Amazing sex :-) and kink :-O
So much to be grateful for, the list is unending. However I would be indeed remiss if I didn’t express my gratitude to the many wonderful bloggers and other subbies out there who have reached out and connected with me… Angel, Cerita, Annie, Renee, Time8, Kayla, Elle, Mel, Peep and Mynx are among them; as well as a few very cool Sirs: Tom Wolf, Captain/Wilhelm, Experienced Husband, HusDom. There are many more of you who check in from time to time, and I am grateful for your follow! This blog has helped me to work through so many issues, has helped me to claim who I am, and has made me a better person because of the followers who comment and help me think! Thankful for you all!
Have a wonderful Thanksgiving!!
Soli Deo gloria!
At the kitchen sink.
He comes up behind me.
His palm spanks my thinly-covered, yoga-pants-clad, sans-panties bottom.
“Mmmmmmm,” I moan my approval and wriggle.
He circles and tickles.
He teases about the old-man neighbor he spies across the street working in his yard.
“I think you’re looking at his sexy legs.”
“Uhm no, my eyes are closed enjoying this…”
“Hmmm… what do we have here?” he proposes, as he reaches over to the kitchen utensils caddy and selects the widest spatula. My eyes widen and I giggle a little.
Whoa, the big plastic spatula delivers quite a sting.
He then picks up the wooden spoon. I’ve heard about these…
“Uh-oh…” I mumble and brace myself for the whacks. Whoa.
“Ouch, ouch, ouch!” I cry out.
“Ouch?” he asks.
“The good ouch,” I reply. But yeah, that thing really does sting!
“Are you getting wet?”
“Mmm hmmmm,” I purr and wiggle my bottom.
He then goes for the red rubber-coated, sturdy, industrial spoon. Oh no…
“Yikes! Ouchy, ouchy, ouchy!” I cry, gripping the kitchen sink and trying not to put my hands back. Man, that one really hurts.
And I love the hot sting on my bottom. I’m kinda panting a little now.
“Hmmmm, I think maybe you like having me at home, huh?” he asks as he pulls me into his kiss.
“Oh yes, sir…”
I want to feel like this is a breakthrough moment, one of many we’ve had and probably will have over the life of our relationship. Because I am learning that you never really “arrive” at the perfect place in marriage or a relationship. You are always working at it. You may have nearly all of the pieces of the puzzle for an almost “perfect” relationship (and it’ll never be perfect), but sometimes the pieces don’t seem to fit, they get lost, forgotten or misplaced–even hidden by a reluctant partner or a past hurt. And this is a tough puzzle because between the two people working on it, it can look quite different. It’s more than 2 dimensional. Bottom line, is although we THINK we may have an idea of what our picture “should” look like, neither of us ever really knows what it will be.
DH has the wonderful gift of humor. It is his hallmark and he is well-loved for it. It is part of his amazing character. I’ve written about the humor “issue” before. It sometimes can be a double-edged sword. However I love and appreciate DH’s humor–most of the time.
This past weekend I realized though, there is a time and a place when his humor has not felt right. And I’ve never been able to put my finger on it. His humor is rarely overtly scathing, and seems to never be intentionally hurtful or demeaning, but subtly it can be all of these things. He justifies his humor in all situations because “it’s just a joke.” I was confused because at times when I felt attacked by humor, I was told to “lighten up,” or “don’t be so serious,” and I began to wonder if I was a humorless person.
I’m not humorless. I know this. I enjoy good humor, and even can be funny myself at times.
DH will initiate a tender or romantic moment with me… I start to melt… let down my guard, desire to put myself into his safe hands and control, trust him fully with my whole being… and then he cracks a joke, sometimes crude or off-color humor or mocking the situation at hand. It brings the lovely moment to a screeching halt. It can be so out of place that it just ices my veins. It feels like a trap door, or like you’ve been lured into trust when suddenly they shout “Gotcha! Psyche! You thought I was being romantic? Haha.” I’m not saying that’s how he intends it, but it’s how it comes off. In that moment, to me, it feels like a cruel joke, that he finds intimacy with me funny or ridiculous. Not to mention my desires for D/s or BDSM. D/s and BDSM, in my mind, have little in common with light humor. They are intense, potent moments, and while perhaps at times playful and teasing, not a time for silly jokes or mocking.
Bingo! I had a moment of clarity regarding some of the difficulties I’ve experienced with orgasms from him. Trust. When I am naked, vulnerable, and exposed to him in intimacy or a rare scene, I am holding back in a somewhat defensive flight stance. Ready for him to crack a joke. Perhaps judge my imperfections.
We had a useful discussion about this after a particularly hurtful moment of humor. I think he recognized how he does tend to misuse humor, to cover up a whole host of feelings that he believes are “unacceptable:” anger, frustration, insecurity, fear, defensiveness. He understood how I felt when he derails a tender or Dominant moment with humor. I also could understand how his humor was a sort of denial or pushback on the D/s-BDSM, without having to just say it.
Most significantly in our discussion, was my definitive, no-excuses declaration to DH of “who” I am:
I am wired to be kinky, enjoy intense and rough sexual experiences, BDSM. This is a very real thing for me, it’s not a joke.
I have spent most of my life wondering why I’m “deviant,” why I’m not “normal,” looked for excuses in my childhood that would make me “so warped.” I spent 20 years of a 22 year marriage hiding this wonderfully passionate, kinky sexy side of me from DH, and from myself. It’s like being gay and trying to talk yourself straight. DH even ventured to ask, “how long have you known you are this way?” “Always,” I finally admitted. “From before my first sexual encounter.” “And you’ve actually experienced it?” he asks. “Oh, yes,” I reply. This is not just a fantasy in my head, an erotic fiction novel. There have been a few real-life Fifty Shades and Story of O scenes in my past. And I loved it.
This is me. No more apologies, no more excuses, no more explanations, no shame, no jokes. I am kinky. I love BDSM and scenes and rough play. I want to be spanked, flogged, whipped, bound, blindfolded, sexed roughly, and controlled. I also adore being stroked, caressed, kissed and cuddled by this man I love with my whole heart, experiencing his expressions of soft love. I am a submissive at heart, who wants my Dom, the man I love, respect and choose to follow, to take control. It’s my responsibility to submit and surrender and respect and serve, to feed his leadership and Dom. If he loves me, it’s his responsibility to acknowledge who I am, learn about my needs, find a comfortable place in his head with it, and earnestly attempt to feed this beast within me, without mocking it.
It’s just one more piece of the puzzle that is us.
This is me.
Flooded with relief and gratitude.
That was my initial feeling when I saw DH waiting there at arrivals, after 10 days and two worlds apart.
In spite of the witness of others from my group, I lost myself in DH’s wonderful arms and gave him a long, passionate, pressed to him, tonsillectomy kiss. God, it was so good to be back in his arms, to be kissed hard.
This trip was difficult for me on many different levels, which shocked me and rocked me. After all, I’ve spent many years traveling and living in the third world, even in this very same poorest country in the hemisphere. There were the discomforts I knew and have experienced before: little electricity, stifling heat, poor sleep, primitive sanitary and bathing facilities; and really horrible food this time (like the smell of an open sewer food…). Heavy lifting and difficult physical labor. A bad belly for most of the time. The deprivations were compounded by the poor organization of our mission, and not feeling productive. The poverty and need of the people we served overwhelmed me this time, left me feeling hopeless and helpless to make a difference. Compound this with some difficult and passive-aggressive/ combative personalities all within close quarters for 10 days… and yeah, it sadly was an experience I hope fades into a distant memory very soon.
Add to this a weird rash. Down THERE. Yeah, DOWN THERE. Ugh.
All through this trip I kept asking God to reveal to me His plan and purpose for me, the lesson I was to learn. Patience and humility for sure (not the easiest lessons). Maybe a little surrender in circumstances where control was not to be realized. I felt like the purpose of this trip remained shrouded up until I stood impatiently waiting for the baggage to appear at our ultimate destination, anxious to forget this experience.
When I saw DH and felt his arms around me, I finally got the lesson. Maybe not the one I expected or thought was the “appropriate big God plan.”
In Sir’s arms is where I belong; His arms I will always return to.
When we cuddled last night; as he took me this morning; my heart rejoiced that I was his.
And that he was here waiting for me.
DH IS my first world, my last world, my whole world.
It was a gorgeous, cool morning yesterday. Our 4 mile walk would incorporate a few errands along the way, last minute purchases for my journey to the third world. My friend Angel has a great date jar idea, and this is one I’ll put in our jar: Target sodas and popcorn. Came in under $4. That makes DH very happy. I was pretty good, just about 3 handfuls and a diet coke. Hey, 4 miles should have burned it?
As my flight leaves at zero dark 5 am… ugh… (this means deciding whether to sleep a few hours or stay up, since we need to leave for the airport in the middle of the night), I realized I should pack some healthy snacks as the airport vendors even have the good sense to not be open at that ungodly hour. Our local store doesn’t always carry them, but lo and behold, my VERY VERY favorite Cortland apples. Not on my diet in the least, but better than a muffin. Of course, I needed to taste-test one to make sure it was OK…
Oh, and what have we here? Why, there was some dulce de leche (aka caramel!!) loitering in my pantry.
Grateful for these simple things: walks on cool mornings, popcorn and cokes, and sweet juicy fall apples. The health to enjoy these things, my Sir by my side. In my bed. Between my knees…
Oh, and this… Sir gave me an afternoon to remember…
He’s become quite skilled with wielding this baby, among other things… it was a blindfolded, two-toy playtime today, resulting in three explosive Os, being taken before I could stop trembling, and some more Os, and this young lady is thoroughly well flogged and F**ked. Whoa. Still tingling.
DH will be staying home for this trip. I will really miss him, but he says he has lots of projects to keep him busy. Just in case, I left him with a stack of books for “research purposes.” Most of what Sir knows about D/s or BDSM is from me and his instincts (unless he’s not telling me about independent research). I’d love for him to read, research, and form some thoughts/ideas/fantasies of his own. The books were recommended by helpful Doms (The Control Book and SM101; along with volumes 2 and 3 of FSOG… where has volume 1 gone?) Maybe when I return I’ll be the “naughty librarian?”
I’ll miss blogging, and keeping up with all of you! See you in a couple weeks.