Something to write about...

I'm currently starting this blog post in between what seems to be a never ending night of discipline, corner time and reflection.

I've been given a break before the next round to focus on how I got to where I am.  What were the choices I made in the past few days, the signs that I can look for in the future to keep me from this situation again.  

I cannot promise you much structure in this post.  Judge or don't judge me on the babble you are about to read.  I am compelled to put my thoughts down.

At this moment, I am calm, for the first time in days, and I'm turning to the outlet that I have made for myself.   An outlet that I have neglected for weeks now.

I began to justify my neglect by telling myself there was simply nothing to write about.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  I would stare at a blank page and refuse to write about what was really bugging me. I felt it would show weakness if wrote about my fears of being off schedule for the holidays, or how lately I can't shake this weight of insecurity off of me.  Instead, I went to my old bag of tricks and pulled out my pride and denial.  I don't NEED to write, I don't NEED to reflect.  What is a few weeks going to hurt?

It's not really about the lack of writing, it's the lack of processing what is going on in this head of mine. Shoving down and pretending that these feelings do not exist has boiled over making me anxious, unfocused and defiant. 

I have outright disrespected Aaron, along with the two most patient mentors a girl could ever ask for. 

With the mentors, the effects of my decision were subtle at first.  Instead of talking about my insecurities, I pouted and figuratively stomped my feet.   I knowingly neglected Sir-ing most of the time, particularly when required verbally.  I resisted much of what was asked from me this week and last. Meeting requirements set for me by the skin of my teeth would be an overstatement.  I covered up my submissive shortcomings with excuses and jokes in hopes they wouldn't see the threads unraveling.  I should have asked for help.  I should have fessed up that I wasn't trying as hard as I should have been.  Being deceptively unsubmissive left me frustrated with myself, making me in turn, even less willing to do the tasks needed.  This morning I did not do what was asked and was out of excuses. I resorted to lying to cover it up.

Covering up situations does not help any relationship.  Lying will kill one faster than anything else I can think of.

The physical consequences have been accounted for, Aaron made sure of that.  I have been told that I will make it right tomorrow.  I plan on it.

With Aaron, my mistakes this week have taken a little longer to come to a head.  We jumped into the holidays together as a team, both knowing how exhausting it can be to feel like you're needed two places at once.  I did not take the opportunity to relay the worry to him that the holiday celebrations play havoc on my need for structure.  I should have asked for help in this area as well, I should have communicated better.  Today I believe the post Christmas adrenaline subsided, leaving me irritable and testy.  I made choices that disrepected him at work, argued and pushed buttons.  


Between the mentors and Aaron today, I knew I was on the road to a "reboot".  I could see my train going off course.  I just didn't have the tools to stop it myself. 


Aaron with one too many buttons pressed today is putting me back on track.

I'm relieved and ever so thankful for it.  








 

Controlling the Chaos

In the continuation with the confessional theme I've got going on my blog, I'd like to make another announcement.....ready?

I'm a control freak trapped in a submissive's body.


Phew. I feel better. Cleansed even.


In a non DD relationship, it would be my way or the highway. However, Aaron and I both agree he's better suited at calling the shots. I'm obviously okay with that. I know that if I'm not the one in control, I sure as hell better trust the person that is. And he'd better be good at it. Being cute (err manly) doesn't hurt either.


Not to worry, Aaron fits that bill on all accounts and then some.


So we've gone along with in this set up for our entire relationship. Win win for both of us really.


It's when I feel things are genuinely out of both of our control I begin to panic. I attempt to change our way of life by taking the reins, in hopes of giving myself a false sense of security. I do this by pushing the boundaries I have agreed to live in. Testing my limits and walking right over the line, often going toe-to-toe with the person I love the most.


I need him to push back.


I need him to gain the control back if not of the situation, but at least of me.


Allow me to further explain with an example:


A year ago, Aaron and I decided it was high time we had a little one running around the household. We dove in head first and I just KNEW we'd succeed after the first month.

Months and quite a few doctor visits later, it was clear that we were in the midst of a reproductive mutiny. Things were going to take longer than we expected, with no clear-cut answer on how or when we were going to get our end prize.


The news was frustrating to say the least.  But we marched on, hand in hand and went on to the next step.  Two weeks ago, we got some news that our first medicated attempt was unsuccessful.
 

Upon hearing the news, I sucked it up and took it like a man.


Or cried a lot.


I'll let you decide how I took the news. Consider it a choose-your-own-adventure book throw back.


Anywhoo.


I came to the grim realization that neither myself or my husband were in control of this. Neither one of us can will this to happen.


This realization didn’t sit well for me. I slid into my own little whirlwind of irrational disaster over dinner that night. I’m sure the people in the restaurant enjoyed the show. I can guarantee to any of them that although I enjoy chicken wings and mugs of beer the size of your head as much as the next person, it was not the hot sauce that had me crying.


Aaron, bless him, stood strong as I spouted fears of the unknown and attempted in vain to “pull the plug” on the whole ordeal. I felt that we could control the situation by just stopping. We’d just quit and our problems would be over. I was willing to throw a year’s worth of hard work and emotions away. 

I was testy, belligerent and down right rude to my husband when he disagreed with me. I was pulling away into my own cocoon of deconstruction and trying to bring him down in the process.


Aaron has quite a few years under his belt dealing with me. He fortunately knew exactly what I needed.  Even when I didn’t.


I’m still ashamed to say that the session was not met with easy submission.


He stuck with it (did I mention he’s full of perseverance?), we reconnected (finally) and I can say the next morning I was feeling a little down (and to his satisfaction, sore), but had an overall better outlook about our situation and our next “plan” of attack.

This is just one (although very big and recent) situation where my control issues have gotten the better of me.


I’m hoping that eventually I’ll learn to roll with the punches and not have such a dramatic response to feeling out of control.  However I'm not quite sure what to do in the meantime. 


Or, I could also just hope that eventually EVERYTHING will go EXACTLY how I want it to go from now on for the rest of my life.


Remind me to start on a denial confessional post next.

The Limit (Monica's first story, complete with preemptive subliminal apologies!!)

So with help from a friend of mine, I got a hold of one of my very first spanking stories. It's a little rough around the edges, and I feel like I have improved a bit, but I was happy to find it. 

It's funny to me that the "story line" of this one also involves shopping and spending limits, which is exactly the same line as "The Dress". I had no idea I had written two stories so closely related.  Somehow my subconscious was trying to warn my future husband of my poor abilities to deny myself that one "special" outfit. 


Although the story line is the same, I feel that when I was writing this (7 years ago maybe?) I was a bit more naive in all areas of life, and Catherine reflects that. The dialogue and reactions between the two are a bit more romanticized and sugar coated, but it is what it is.  

Anywhoo, before I critique the story apart line by line for you, I'd better just zip it .

Enjoy!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The Limit

By Monica

Catherine unpacked her sacks and tried not to think about the evening that lay ahead of her. The day was spent have a blast with her sister at the mall. It was nice being able to spend some gossip time with her sister. Sam never had a problem with this. His only request when they went out was that Catherine keeps a budget of $80.

“I don’t need to remind you of your limit today do I Catherine Elizabeth?” Sam said just hours earlier.

“ No honey, I remember” she replied adding a kiss on his lips.

“Alright, you make sure to be my good girl today” he said between kisses.

“Uh, always” she laughed as she headed out the door to meet her sister.


Her intentions were good and valid, as usual. “Just a few skirts, maybe a cute outfit he’d like” she thought. Shortly after entering the mall, Catherine found “the outfit.” Catherine glanced at the price tag. $100.

“Just a tad over my budget” Catherine thought about it. Surely he wouldn’t mind since it wasn’t everyday she got to go out and buy something really cute. She began to justify her thoughts. Catherine remembered just how good she had been the past few weeks. “Hmm, I just don’t know.” she said.


“ Sarah, I’m going to call Sam for just a second ok?”

“Sure” Sarah said and headed towards the other end of the store to finish her shopping.


Catherine picked up her cell phone and started to call. No answer. “Well,” she said, “He can’t tell me no, I can just explain it to him when I get home.” She thought as she reached for her checkbook and headed towards the cashier’s station.

Now that she was home, she was having more than just simply buyer’s remorse. Just thinking about the last time she went against his wishes made the butterflies in her stomach flutter faster. Catherine barely had time to think more about it before she heard the unmistakable noise of Sam coming home.

“Here we go.” She thought and went to got meet him at the door.

“Hey Honey!” Catherine said as she went to greet him with a kiss. “Whatcha buy me?”

“Dinner, Hon” he replied putting the grocery sacks on the counter before grabbing his girl by the waist. Doing this under any other circumstances would have made Catherine weak at the knees with want. This time however, Catherine was a little weak for other reasons.


“How’s my girl?” He asked, grinning. “Did you behave today?”

“Well,” she said as coolly as she could. Her voice was already starting to crack. “ I was on my best behavior, honest.” She added, looking down.

He had seen this look more than once before.

“But…? “ Sam finished her thoughts aloud. “Catherine, is there something you need to tell me?” He used two fingers to gently tip her head up by the chin.

“Can I show you? I bought something really nice today.” Catherine asked.

“Hmm, well ok you go change into it and I’ll start dinner.” he answered. 

Catherine was out of the room before Sam finished his last word. Catherine had to think fast. “Maybe if he SEES me in it he’ll understand.” She thought, slipping on the flowery skirt and pink blouse, forgetting all about the tag on the edge of the skirt.

A few minutes later, Catherine walked into the kitchen. “Tahh Dahh!!” She exclaimed giving a twirl.


“Oh baby, that looks great!” Sam said, turning around from preparing dinner. 

“Come here and let se a bit closer.” Catherine was so pleased that he liked it she forgot all about the price until she saw Sam’s hand reach for the tag. Her face immediately turned up to look at Sam’s. He was still looking at the tag in thought. A few seconds passed before any words were spoken. Those butterflies, they were back and in full swing. Catherine tried to calm her nerves with a few deep breaths. Sam didn’t even have to say anything. She jumped him to the gun.


“Honey, listen, I can explain everything I thought..” Catherine was stopped by his finger over her mouth.


“ Young lady, what have we discussed about your spending limits?” He said in a slow and serious voice. Catherine knew his voice just as well as he knew her looks. This tone always made her react. She sighed.

“Sam, I know you said $80 but…”

“Honey there is no need for discussion now is there? You disobeyed me again Catherine.” He continued in a soft voice. “Look at me. What happens when you disobey?”

Catherine shifted her weight. No matter how many times he asked this question she still couldn’t answer him above a whisper. “I get spanked.” She breathed softly.

“ That’s right, you Catherine, when you disobey me you get to go right over my knee. I want you to go straight to the corner and wait for me, do you understand?” He asked as he placed Catherine directly in front of him, holding her arms to her side.

“Yes Sir.” Catherine said meekly.

“Good, you know what I expect.” he said and sent her to the bedroom with a hard smack to her backside.

By the time Catherine had reached the designated corner, her mind was flying mile a minute. She stepped into position and waited, forgetting all about dropping her panties. She could hear Sam preparing dinner. Never had Catherine hoped that dinner would take so long to make. The corner was a small start much larger things to come. Her mind wandered as she tried to think about why she was there. It was only when Catherine heard sounds from the kitchen did she start focusing on her fate. The noises she had become accustomed to hearing suddenly stopped. She listened intently for any signs of movement. Soon, the familiar sounds of his footsteps down the hall caused an excited yet sinking feeling. Sam walked into the room. Catherine straightened and held back the urge to turn her head to investigate. She one again relied on her sense of hearing. She heard him walk across the room. The sound her him moving “the chair” to the center of their bedroom made Catherine jump instinctively.

Sam sat for a minute and watched her. He noticed how hard it was for her to keep still, even in the corner. He looked her over again. It WAS a nice dress. He thought. He noticed then that she had forgotten to remove her panties. This made him chuckle to himself. He knew she hadn’t done that on purpose. “Even in trouble she’s forgetful.” he smirked and continued to look. “Time to get down to business.” He thought.

“Catherine,” he said in a tone not to be argued with. “You’re little bottom is about to be tanned.” Catherine sucked in her breath and turned around. This moment was the start of a few very conflicting emotions. Half of Catherine insisted on finding the nearest exit. This feeling was so strong her eyes glanced from his lap, to the door, and ultimately to his lap again. The other half, which was thankfully logical at times like these kept Catherine’s feet planted firmly on the floor.

Sam noticed the hesitation. Although Sam was very patient, he did not like having to repeat himself.


“Young lady, where should you be right now, do you need help getting there?” He asked. Catherine knew better than take him up on his offer. She puffed up, her body stiffened. “Stay calm,” she thought to herself as she slid closer to Sam who helped position her semi-comfortably on his lap. As soon as her body made contact with his she knew the whole tough cookie act was going to be a bit harder to keep up in such a vulnerable state. Sam acted on both intuition and experience with Catherine and hooked his legs through hers to keep them still.

Catherine, feeling impending doom was just seconds away, began once again to plead her case to the judge, jury, and what now seemed to be her executioner.

“Sam honey, please don’t do this, I’ll take the dress back, I’m sorry.” She squeaked. His response was quick.

“Yes little girl, you WILL take the dress back, but first we have some business to take care of.” He followed his statement with a few swift swats to Catherine’s backside. Sam lifted her skirt to reveal his covered target. Before Catherine could even think about reacting, Sam removed the thin barrier of clothing between them. Just then it dawned on her. “These are for forgetting” he said simply and delivered three firm swats to her now exposed bottom. Catherine’s back began to arch. His hand led her shoulders back into position and continued.

“Catherine, why are you over my knee?” Sam asked between swats. She couldn’t think. How could he expect her to form sentences at a time like this? Although she knew the session was probably going to be worse, all of her energy was focused on the warmth he was creating. After a few seconds of waiting without a response, Sam began to spank harder.

“Catherine you do realize that I expect an answer don’t you?” He continued to spank her. Catherine managed to make the murmurs out of her mouth form words, paying close attention to the tone of her voice.

“I spent too much money.” She said with a whimper. Sam continued to swat her backside. Each time his hand lifted it was replaced with a stinging sensation that caused Catherine to struggle. Sam felt her body tighten and try to maneuver. His spanks became harder.

“Young lady, I am growing tired of this struggling. Do we need to add a paddle? “ Her ears perked up. It was all Catherine could do to command her muscles to stay still as best as possible. Sam though it best to continue the lecture.

“Catherine, did you ask me if you could go over your limit?” His spanks continued with vigor.

“No Sir.” Catherine sniffed, on the verge of losing all control. Sam continued.
 
“I am very disappointed Catherine.” He said, pausing for just a little bit for Catherine to catch her breath. This was all she needed to hear to lose it completely. Her whimpers turned into sobs, her body stopped struggling, and she let herself go.

Nothing more needed to be said as Sam administered the final swats to her red bottom. Catherine began to mix her sobs with almost incoherent statements of “I’m sorry Honey, please Sam, I’ll do better.” Sam slowed the pace down and softened the swats to eventually just a little more than brushes of his hand. He stopped, listening to her breathing pattern. In one smooth movement, Sam turned her towards him and kissed her forehead. Although the punishment wasn’t exactly over, she still needed a second for her brain to catch up with her body. Catherine’s sobs calmed down considerably. It was more now soft words and tidbits of sentences. Sam’s voice was low and collective.


“Catherine do you know where you need to go next sweetie? Come on let’s go.” He took her arm and helped her to her now wobbly feet. Anything more she had to say was lost between his hushes and her irregular breathing. Sam led Catherine to the corner. He trusted she would stay there without any trouble.

After a few minutes, Sam, sitting now on the edge of the bed, spoke up.

“Catherine, come here please.” He could tell by just her stance she was feeling vulnerable and extremely submissive. This side of Catherine no one but him got to see.

Quietly, she turned and walked towards him. He placed her body between his knees, lightly touching her warmed bottom. One hand moved to yet again lift her chin up and found the small of her back.


“Baby, you know I love you, tell me why you were spanked?”


“Cause,” she replied. “I spent over my limit without asking.” She looked into his eyes just a second before looking down at his lap.

“That’s right honey, it’s all over now, you’re forgiven, you know that" he smiled just a bit to show her how sincere he was.


“Now comere.” He said as he cradled her into his arms. Only split seconds passed before Catherine placed small pecks on his cheek before resting her whole face in his neck. She let out a sigh of contentment before closing her eyes to rest.

His office just got a little more cluttered

So, I thought he was kidding.

Maybe that was my denial speaking.

For weeks, Aaron has been talking about some sort of  structured "tally" system.  Some visual aide to remind me (and him) of things between sessions. He gets these strange ideas in his head when he talks to other HOHs.  

Mental note: Keep him away from the rest of the menfolk. The  track record hasn't been pretty thus far.

It's always been an open table discussion when it comes to developing concepts in this crazy DD lifestyle of ours.  Key word there is discussion.  The DECISION of course, ultimately is his.

Anywhoo, when he brought up this idea, I foolishly showed a bit of enthusiasm.  He must have caught me in mid-bite of a chocolate bar.  Or maybe it was in the middle of a Grey's Anatomy episode. I urge anyone to attempt to have a decent conversation with those lovely doctors running around half naked on your television.  I mean, come on. Owen? Yes please and thank you.  My two cents in the matter probably consisted of a "uh huh", followed by a "sounds great" hinted with a  "Can you let me get back to my show? Someone is bound to have sex in this episode" tone.

Yet again, I digress.

So the next time he brought it up, the conversation went more like this:

"So, Monica,  we're getting the whiteboard today."

 "Whatever are you talking about sweetest, dearest husband of mine?"  (Verbatim-ish)

"We discussed this.  The whiteboard. For my office. For rules and infractions.  Remember?"

I did remember, vaguely.  But worked my Monica magic and played dumb, in hopes him talking through it one more time would change his mind.

No dice.

We are now a proud new owner of a whiteboard.   

For a few days, I pretended it didn't exist.  I would walk in his office and refuse to make eye contact with it. (Yes, I personify inanimate objects, it's part of my charm).  

Then I started my attempt to befriend it.  A few doodles as I was in there straightening up.  A heart, a generic smiley face calmed my nerves about the whole situation.  It wasn't SO bad.  It's just a little whiteboard. 

It wasn't until the morning after a impromptu "we're taking care of this now" session that the white-board's purpose came to fruition.

Infractions, with consequences, scrawled out in my husband's writing for the world (or our cats) to see.

Sneaky, that man is.

I went to Aaron for a bit of protesting. 

"What if someone comes to our house unannounced?  You can't just have this kind of stuff displayed." 

"Behave and you won't have to worry about it now will you?"

He's working with a bit of fuzzy logic I think.

And that whiteboard is a traitor. 

That 3 letter word

This post was inspired by my friend Galway.  Go check out her blog!!

Sir [sur]

                -noun

1. A respectful or formal term of address used to a man: No, sir.

Such a simple definition for a word that for many carries so much weight.  Ask any woman, particularly a woman who has chosen DD as a lifestyle and you will get a reaction as varied as the women you ask.

Early in my DD “journey”, I walked around with a bitter taste in my mouth.   My association with the word could be linked closely to my past. It was uttered forcibly growing up, under less than ideal conditions, giving this particular individual a false sense of respect. 

In my eyes, anyone asking for a Sir was looking for a power trip.  I declared to myself it was a word I would never use again.  Ever.

A discussion with a good  friend helped change my manifesto. 

"Monica, it doesn't have to be demeaning.  Let's redefine it.  You can decide what that word means to you from now on.  Who would deserve that title from you? What would it take? Describe him."

"I'd have to trust him." 

"Ok Monica, that's fair.  Go on."

I reluctantly continued to describe the criteria.  After a few minutes, we had quite an extensive list of requirements (surprisingly, none of these included the provision of chocolate). Then, just when I was getting comfortable with making the demands, he switched gears.

"Monica, what do you want to express to him when you say it?"

This question was a little harder.

What could I pack into this little word, besides the obvious? It meant so much more to me than showing my submission.   That I knew he cared?  Thanks and gratitude?  Awareness of what was being said?  That even though I was vulnerable, I trusted him as well?

Once we got through that list, I admitted that I had a more positive outlook on the whole idea.


"Good.  Now that we have a  brand spanking new definition of the word, you'll have to practice using it. " he said.  "No time like the present, don't you agree?"


"Practice? Yes, sure, I guess"  I totally knew where he was going with this.

"Yes what, Monica?"

I paused and held my breath.

"Yes Sir." I replied. 

"See?  Was that so bad?"  

Since then I can name on one hand the gentlemen that I've felt comfortable enough to address in this manner.  If I was REALLY honest with myself, I would have to also admit that it's much easier for me to type it out in an IM than verbalize it out loud.  I know it pleases Aaron a great deal when I use it and with a little guidance, I'm getting much better at using it without prompting. 

After all, practice makes perfect.

An Open Letter to Mr. You-Know-Who-You-Are:

Dear Sir-

Although I enjoy getting presents like anyone else, I believe you, and my husband, have some deep seeded roots of wickedness that should be discussed in detail with a professional. 

I should have known when the box came and Aaron snatched it up fast as lightning.  He placed in on the table with strict instructions not to touch it.  Sure.  Put a present on the table clearly addressed to both of us expect me not to poke at it?  Cruel.  Both of you.  But I digress. 

 

What on Earth could it be? I pondered at the table and sadly came to the realization that it wasn't a puppy. 

I'll save you the complaint that I NEVER get want I want.  Ever.  

   

Aaron grabbed a pocket knife while I  feverishly texted to let you know our surprise had made it here safely.   As he was opening the package I thought to myself, "My my what great FRIENDS we have!"

Allow me to help you with a few friendship skills.  

Take a note from that beautiful wife of yours.  Friends send pretty, soft, beautiful things that keep the receiver warm.  (To my favorite partner in crime, consider this a fist bump of gratitude for the lovely neck wraps.)

Exhibit A:

Let's continue shall we?

See, you almost had me fooled with your trickery.  Wrapping your so called "present" in a bag kept the mystery for just a little while longer.  Even Aaron's cackle did not deter me from thinking anything was awry.  I was too busy wrapping myself up in cloth extravagance.   

Still I kept guessing.  What delightful little gift could this possibly be?  Aaron interrupted my thoughts of  possible pleasantries with a "Ohh, he TOLD me about THIS!"

So sweet that you two have bonded.  Really. 

I was just as excited as he was until he began to pull this object out of it's wrapping.  

For those with weak stomach, I urge you to cover your eyes. 

This is not chocolate.  This is not a vase of flowers.  You should even check into the legal fine print about sending such things to innocent citizens like myself.  

My thoughts of admiration flew out of my thoughts as soon as Aaron began chasing me around the living room.  I believe I may have attained a nasty splinter.  If I get tetanus, are you going to feel sorry then?

To think I almost made you a carrot cake.

You still have one fan in our household.  Aaron still hasn't stopped grinning.  He has named it "The Beast".  I'm sure he would appreciate it very much if I thanked him for you.  Fat chance of that happening.

In closing, I would like to give you one last chance at redemption.  I accept all forms of handwritten apologies.  I can also be bought.    Until then, consider yourself officially off my Christmas list. 

Yours, 

Monica

Struggles

This may come as a shocker, but I'm what some may label as stubborn.

Yes.  I know.  I'll give you a moment.

I prefer to call it tenacity. 

Nicer ring to it.

Whatever you call it, it's been with me for as long as I can remember.

It hasn't always been a negative trait.  There have been times in my life where it's paid off and I've prevailed.


But looking back, I can say that most of the time it's made things a bit difficult on me.

For example:

In college, fresh in my discovery of DD, I decided I would take on the task of molding the man I was dating into the perfect Dom.  Sure he couldn't keep a job, was on academic probation for the second time in his 7 year college "plan" and had the classic deer in headlights look every time I uttered a word with more than 3 syllables. I could FIX him.  Make him into what I needed.  My own social experiment.

For years, YEARS  I worked on him.  Precious energy wasted.  We parted ways for reasons I won't get into here (two words: stripper and rent money.  I'll let your imagination run with that.)

The point of this (other than releasing a bit of old animosity..did I mention I hold grudges too?)  is that I couldn't throw in the towel, even when there were signs all over the place.

Present day- It's becoming a problem.

Stubbornness is getting in the way of my submission.

Although it's not a constant problem, I find myself digging my heels in on some occasions. It makes the act of submitting more of a process.  Aaron has to crack the shell of hardheadedness before he can even reach the good stuff.  

After the cracking has commenced and he's gotten through, there is a ping of guilt.  I feel like I'm not "walking the walk" correctly.  I tell myself that next time, I'm going to just ignore my first reaction and not fight what I know works for us so well.  

But that next time comes, and I keep digging in.

Do others struggle with the same problem?

Times they are a changin'

I’m thinking about changing the blog, going public.

I think it would force me to  update more often on my thoughts and what’s going on here.

I’ve also got so many great ideas, about 3 drafts going on at the same time.  It would be nice to have them read and maybe tweaked a little with some advice.  I still really like the characters in the dress story, so I’m going to continue in that direction for awhile.

I just have to tweak a few things, and keep writing for myself, write what I enjoy and how I’m feeling.  That’s why I started the blog in the first place!


Edit: Home Sweet blogger Home!  All my posts from the past couple of months have  been moved today.  This little spot of the internet needs a touch of Monica, some sprucing up with frills and femininity.  Work in progress!!

Speeding (Story Starter)

He was finished.  He gave her a few moments to catch her breath, laying his hand gingerly on her now warm backside, one eye admiring his handiwork, the other looking at the ground towards Elaine .  Hair covered the majority of his view, but even through the strands he caught a glimpse of her tear-streaked cheek.  Dan  spoke quietly.

“Elaine , let’s go to the corner now.”  He released her slowly from his hold and helped her up.  The repentant sobs were now just sniffles as she placed herself back into the corner.   Dan  leaned back in the chair and watched her before turning his attention to the little slip of paper that started the whole session.

Dan  read the title over again, Department of Public Safety, traffic violation.  He had warned her numerous times about her lead foot. This time it had caught up with her. Ten miles per hour over the speed limit.  Not much, 

Dan  admitted to himself, but enough to warrant some discipline. He placed the ticket back on the coffee table.

Thirty minutes had past.  Elaine was quiet and calmer. By the looks of her body language Dan could tell she was not enjoying her time spent there. Her bottom was still bright red. He was unmoved.  It was all part of the process.  He spoke up again.

“Come here.”  He demanded. Elaine dropped her skirt, covered her bottom and walked towards him, ready to take the rest of her scolding.

“Are we going to speed again, young lady?”  He asked, grabbing her wrist, pulling  her closer.  She shook her head.

“That’s not an answer Elaine .  Are we going to speed?”

“No, Sir. ”

“Good.  If you ever, EVER get a ticket again, you’ll be in much worse shape than you are now.  Are we clear?”

“Yes, we’re clear.”  Elaine  stated.  With that he sent her off with one last smack to her bottom.

Moody (story)

Eyebrows would raise as soon as the fiery comment left my lips.  I would be summoned closer and asked if I could repeat myself, for surely I was misunderstood.  When I'm asked if I felt it was an appropriate comment to make, I would answer with excuses, only to be cut short with a simple "Enough."

I would be sent to reacquaint myself with an old friend, the corner.

"Obviously you're in need of a little attitude adjustment.  I know a well spanked girl would never speak to me that way. " he would say, leading me by my arm.  "I think I have just the thing to remind you of your place."  

Further protests are spoken, but ignored as garments are removed and I'm placed into position.   In my thoughts,  I'm brave, shooting silent remarks in his direction.  Soon vulnerability  prickles my skin and I am quiet.

Time passes.  My attention moves from the texture of the walls to the stirring behind me.  He would be busy gathering his supplies for the job ahead of him, occasionally slapping one against his the palm of his hand.  The noises would cause me swallow hard and shift my weight.  Familiar uneasiness would settle in, driving my body further into into the corner in a vain attempt to become unnoticed.

But he would notice.

Getting to know you.....

...getting to know all about yoooouu!  (Bonus points if you can  name that tune)

Over the past few weeks I've been introduced to some new DDers.   It's been nice, really nice, to reconnect to the community.  I've rejoined a few groups in hopes that it helps me with expressing my ideas.  (That is, when I get brave enough to post more than just an intro).

The conversations have been general, for the most part.  Questions such as where I live, what I do,  how long have I been "into" DD are all answered pretty easily.

I'm having a bit of a problem however. There is always one question that comes up that makes me hesitate.

"How old are you?"

They don't usually come out and ask at first.  Usually I can sense the calculations in their head once I start talking about how long I've been married, kid free, ect.

As soon as it's asked, I panic.

The last time I was asked (yesterday) the conversation  stopped dead in it's tracks.  It was at that time I wished I had just avoided the question, maybe with a witty "oh, a lady never tells her age" sort of answer.  The lady was nice and chatty up to that point.  Then all of a sudden she had to go and signed off.

Well Crap!  Is usually my first reaction.  Then I start over analyzing.  Does this mean "word" is going to get around that I'm just a "kid", therefore any post or comment I make is going to be dismissed?  These new people, are they going to think I have no idea what I'm talking about because of my age?  Who can I get to 'vouch' that I know my stuff?  What's the magic word to be accepted?

Anxiety makes meeting people in person is hard enough for me.  That's a whole other post  Adding the fact that it's all online  is even harder.

My logical side (yes, I have one) pipes up amidst the deep sea of self doubt  Why do I care what these people think?  I don't have to prove anything to anyone! I'm me!  I'm awesome!  I should be comfortable with that.  Right? Right!

But unfortunately all the inner pep talks give me about 5.7 seconds of confidence.  This is the precise amount of time it takes me to go to plan B, a little chocolate therapy.

Expectations

The streets were dark with something more than night.
Raymond Chandler

About a week ago I was with a friend, K, for a bit of shopping and dinner downtown.  As we were leaving, I asked if her husband was going to pick her up, or if I needed to drive her home.  She laughed and told me that she was going to walk the 6 blocks or so back to her apartment, no big deal.  Now, K is petite and this particular part of downtown has been known for it's unsavory atmosphere.  I kept insisting that she let me take her home, but she kept laughing it off as no big deal.  I struck a deal with her that she at least had to text me when she got home so I wouldn't worry.

Last night, we were over at their apartment for a dinner party.  K began to talk to her husband about how concerned I was with her safety and how "cute" it was that I cared so much.  I turned to her husband thinking he would agree with me.  Instead, he laughed and shook his head, as if it wasn't a big deal.  When I at least suggested mace, or a knife (ok, the knife may have been a bit of an exaggerated suggestion on my part) or something, his response was " Don't give her any of that, she'll use it on me."

His reaction bugged me.  Where was the reaction I was looking for?  Shouldn't there be some concern for her safety?  Shouldn't he have told her under no circumstances would she ever walk home alone?  At least a acknowledgment that there was some concern.

She kept saying "Monica, I can take care of myself."  

Ouch.

That bugged me too.

In bed last night I was trying to process why it had bugged me so much.  I'm still having a hard time with it.   Has the DD lifestyle changed my expectations how husbands should treat their wives, even if they aren't into DD?  Is it fair to compare their reactions to how I would react?

And the whole line about "I can take care of myself."  If I was not into DD, would I be okay with walking in the streets downtown alone?  Has submission totally killed my sense of what I'm capable of doing?

The Dress (Story)

It all started out as an innocent trip to the store.  In the window next door, she saw THE perfect dress hanging there, calling her name. Sure she lots of things to do today, but trying it on wouldn’t hurt, right?

So now of course, standing in the dressing room Elaine  had a decision to make.  She smoothed the dress out against her hips and gave herself one final look in the mirror.  Justifying to herself why she needed the dress was easy.  A girl could never have enough clothes.  Convincing Dan however, was another story. Particularly when it meant having to use the emergency credit card for the purchase.  She thought about it for a little while and came up with an idea.  She would buy the dress and have Dan take it out of her spending money for the next two weeks.  It was bending the rules a little, but Elaine was sure Dan wouldn’t have a problem once she explained the situation.  Happy with her decision, Elaine quickly changed back into her dress and went to go checkout.

At the counter, as she was thinking of the game plan for the next few hours of errands, she felt a tap on her shoulder.  She turned around to see a familiar face.  It was Tony, Dan friend.

“Tony! What are you doing here?” she reached over and gave him a quick hug.  They continued to make small talk while the cashier rang up her purchase.   She grabbed the dress, said her goodbyes, and went on her way.

A few hours later, with all of her errands run, Dan called to check in.  She filled him in on all the errands, but thought it best not to mention the dress purchase over the phone.   Although she felt a little guilty about omitting that, she quickly put it out of her mind.  He’ll understand if he sees the dress first.   Coming closer to the house, she noticed an extra car in the driveway.  “Who could that be?” she wondered to herself. Elaine knew Dan was home, so she grabbed her bags and made her way into the house to see who the visitor was.

“Well, there she is” Elaine heard as she opened the door.  She looked up and felt an instant pit in her stomach.    That was Tony’s voice.  What the heck was he doing here? Elaine kept her eyes to the floor as she took her shoes off to grab some sense of composure.  Her plan of telling Dan face to face may have just been blown.    A million thoughts flew through her head.  “Stay calm, he wouldn’t have said anything to Dan about the seeing her earlier, it wouldn’t have come up in conversation,  Besides, it had only been a few minutes since she had spoken to him.  She didn’t notice hearing him sounding angry, and she KNEW that tone. Elaine swallowed hard and looked up at Dan to search for any sign of anger.  None.  She sighed in relief as she made it into the living room.

“Tony just got here.  I was going to invite him to stay over for dinner and watch the game.  Did you remember to put something out for us?”

“Crap!!” Elaine thought.  Dan  saw the look on her face and knew the answer.  “No hmm?  Well,  I suggest you get something started.  You and I will have to discuss later how we can better plan the rest of the week.   

Dan's  tone had changed slightly as he gave her a look.  Elaine knew exactly what that meant.  Those types of discussions started with her nose in the corner, and ended with her backside on fire with a clear reminder of the expectations he had for her.

Elaine accepted her fate silently.  She made her way to the kitchen to start dinner, keeping one ear on what the guys were talking about.

Soon Elaine had dinner placed on the table.  They ate and continued casual conversation.  All of a sudden, Tony  got up out of his chair and reached into his back pocket.

Elaine  I totally forgot!  I didn’t know if you kept these or not, but I picked it up for you.”  He handed her a tiny piece of paper folded from his wallet.  As soon as she saw it, the pit in her stomach returned.  She slowly took the paper from Tony, knowing full well what it was.

“What is that?”  Dan asked as she opened it up.

“Oh, I ran into Elaine today while returning some clothes.  It’s her receipt.  She left it on the counter.

"What was it?"  Dan asked.

"A dress or something”  Tony answered for her and continued eating.   Dan and Elaine exchanged glances.

“A dress, hmm? That’s interesting.” Dan said as he took the slip from Elaine’s hand.  He read it more in detail.  Elaine looked down at her plate as he continued.  “Credit card purchase? Elaine, am I reading this right?”

She didn’t have to look at the receipt for the answer.  She confirmed with a nod of her head.

“Elaine, was this an emergency dress purchase? Surely there is a good reason for using it.  Did something happen to the clothes you were wearing? I don’t recall you mentioning it over the phone today either.”

“I was planning on telling you when I got home, so you could see in person.  I had a plan, and Tony had to go open his god damned mouth!”  As soon as those words left her mouth, she knew she had just dug herself into a bigger hole.  Cursing was not tolerated, period.

“Let’s Go.” Dan got up and started moving towards the kitchen.  Elaine hesitated, looking at Tony.  “Not here, not now, please”, she thought closing her eyes.

“Elaine.”

He was not letting her out of this.  She got out of the chair and met him in the kitchen.  Dan was already soaping up a washcloth..

“Let’s talk about this later, I can explain everything later if you give me a chance.”  She whispered, trying to stay out of earshot from Tony.  She looked at the table to see Tony, watching with total confusion.

“Elaine, you know what happens when you don’t watch your language. Open. Right. Now.”

Elaine tried to back away from the sink, but Dan kept her pinned.  Elaine tried again to protest, but Dan was too quick.  He grabbed her chin, and forced the washcloth past her lips.  Although this has happened more than she would like to admit, she still couldn’t get used to the taste.  Dan meant business, scrubbing every last inch of her mouth.  She kept her eyes closed, afraid that if she looked at Dan, she’d really lose it. She couldn’t afford to do that, not in front of Tony.  She heard him get out of his chair and come to the kitchen.

“Dan, what the heck are you doing?”

“Tony, we have a rule in this house about cursing. Elaine has broken the rule, so this is her consequence.”

“Wait, you’re doing what?  Listen, Dan, it’s not her fault, I’m sorry; I didn’t know it would cause such a fuss, or THIS for that matter. “

Dan was finished.  He moved away from the sink, and let her go.  She straightened herself and turned her back quickly so Tony could not see the tears down her face.

Tony couldn’t believe his eyes. This was all because of a receipt?  He had never heard Dan talk this way either.  Rules?  Consequences?  Soap?    “Elaine, seriously, what is this?  Are you okay?”

“Tony, she’s fine and at the moment, she’s got a bit more than soap to worry about. We’ve just started, haven’t we young lady?”

Elaine sniffed silently.  Her hand went up to her mouth, touching her lips.  Her tongue burned.  She knew every swallow she took for the next few hours would serve as a reminder.  Dan continued.

“Elaine also knows what happens when she uses the credit card without permission, doesn’t she?”  Dan took Elaine by the shoulders and spun her around, moving her back into the living room.

“Elaine, tell Tony what happens when you use the card without permission?” Elaine could feel Dan's squeeze on her shoulder.  She couldn’t, wouldn’t!  What was he trying to do to her?  After a few moments, she felt him squeeze a little harder.

“ I get spanked.”  She could barely get it out in a whisper.

“Speak up, Tony didn’t hear that.” He moved her closer to the table.

“I get spanked, Tony” she couldn’t believe she was saying it.  She couldn’t bring herself to look at him.  What was possibly going on in his head?

“She’s WHAT?” Tony was stunned.  Was this a joke?  He looked at Elaine,  clearly upset.  Her face was red.  He looked up at Dan firmly gripping Elaine by the shoulders.  Neither one looked like they were kidding.

“Spanked?  Are you kidding me? Like, now?”

“Well, not at this moment, she’s not.  She’s going to clean up the dinner plates first.  Let’s go into the living room and let her be.”

With one final squeeze, Dan let Elaine go.  She began to clear the table and headed towards the kitchen, relieved to be away from Tony’s stare.  Elaine dawdled as long as she was brave enough to, and made her way into the living room. Dan was still in conversation, while Tony was sitting on the couch, looking to Elaine’s surprise, relaxed and comfortable.

“Oh good,” she thought, sarcastically  “at least someone here is ok with the situation.”

Dan changed his focus when she walked into the room.

“All finished?  Would I approve?”  She nodded yes.  “Good, then you know where to go next.”

“But, What about Tony?” she protested, stomping her foot.

“Are we going to add disobedience to the list today, little girl?”

She huffed and made her way to the corner.  A few moments passed.

“We’re still waiting.  That is not how we stand there now is it?”

“But, Tony!!” she repeated, this time to the wall.

“I have talked Tony , Tony understands.  He stays.  We have a game to watch. “

“Dan, please, I’ll be bare!”

“Tough.  Tony, you’ve seen a backside before, haven’t you?”

He was a little taken aback by the question.  “Sure, sure I have”  Tony answered with nervous laughter.

“Good. That’s settled.  Elaine, I’m not going to ask again.”

Elaine slowly moved into the proper position.  She could feel the heat come off her face.  Hands behind her back, skirt lifted, and bare bottomed, she closed her eyes and waited.

After a few seconds, Elaine could hear the T.V. turn on.  She began to relax slightly as the game started, thankful that the focus was off her backside, for now.  She couldn’t bring herself to think about what came next..  These type of spankings were never pleasant, Dan made sure of it.  “How long am I going to stand here like this?

Tony had just as many thoughts.  How was he possibly going to watch this game with Elaine standing like THAT?  He looked over at Dan. He was so, relaxed.  Dan could sense Tony was uncomfortable.

“Tony, it’s ok.  This is definitely not the first or last time she’s been in that corner.  Dan’s tone was back to normal.  Tony sank back into the couch and tried to concentrate on the game.

Back in the corner, Elaine  strained to hear what they were talking about.  She was sure it had something to do with her.  “Is he going to make me stand here the whole game?”  Elaine thought.  She tried to remember how long a game usually lasted.  An hour? Elaine came up with two options.  Either he was going to send Tony home at halftime, or she was going to have to stand here for the entire game.

An eternity went by before Elaine  heard the sounds she was waiting for.  Halftime!   Finally!  Dan turned down the T.V.   She could hear him get up off the couch.  She focused on each sound around her, trying to make out exactly what was going on.  Elaine heard his footsteps go into the bedroom. Was he doing what she thought he was doing?

Seconds later, Elaine had her answer.  She heard Dan move the wooden chair from it’s place in the bedroom.  Elaine's heart rate became faster as she heard him sit.  All of a sudden, waiting in the corner until the game was over didn’t seem such a bad idea after all.  She squeezed her eyes closed and buried her face deeper into the corner.

Tony sat back up in the couch as Dan started to lecture.  Flashbacks of his childhood were pushed out of his mind as Dan spoke of his disappointment.   Tony sensed Elaine’s voice start to waiver as she answered Dan’s questions.

“Now, enough of that.” Dan said, adjusting himself in the chair.   Elaine, come here.” He instructed.  It took a few seconds for her body to obey.  She turned and walked towards him, knees weak.  She couldn’t look up as she made her way towards her punishment.

Tony caught himself staring at her as she moved closer to Dan.   Not knowing what else to do, Tony gave her a small smile to make her feel better.  Elaine did not smile back.

In one fluid movement, Dan had her over his knee, securing her legs under his.  She gasped as he lifted her skirt.   Elaine  gasped again as the first hard swats fell on her bottom, one after another.  She arched her back and began to struggle.  Dan rolled Elaine  slightly and gave her a hard smack on her thigh.

“Start fighting now, Elaine, dear,  and I’ll have Tony go get the paddle.”

Tony jumped upon hearing his name.  He could see Elaine’s skin become pink very quickly.    Dan repositioned Elaine and continued the swats. Elaine whimpered.  Dan was not fazed.  He began swatting faster.  Between the sounds of the smacks, to the sounds of Elaine’s pleas to stop, Tony could hardly keep up with what was going on.  He watched as Dan worked all areas of her bare bottom.

Finally, Dan felt Elaine submit.  She was no longer kicking against his legs.  He continued the swats in a slow rhythm.  Seconds later, Elaine began to sob.

It was more than Tony could take.  He winced at each swat.  He spoke up, his voice shaken.

“Dan, she’s crying.   Please, stop.  Will you stop?  She’s hurt.”

Dan rested the palm of his hand on her now red flesh.  He looked up. “Tony, this is supposed to hurt, that’s the point.  She’s broken the rules.  Next time she’ll think twice about using the credit card for trivial purchases.”  He emphasized the last two words with swats, one to each side of her bottom.  Elaine yelped.

Dan looked back at Tony.  He could see Tony was really feeling sorry for Elaine.

“This is nothing, Tony.  She’s got another session coming to her later tonight.  Let’s wrap this up, the game is about to start back.”  With that he slowly stood Elaine up.

"One more thing before she goes back to the corner.  I think it best she gets a few swats from you."

Tony was shocked.  He watched Dan place her hands on the back of the chair.

“What?  No, no.  Dan, I couldn’t”

“Come on Tony.  I want Elaine to get a taste of what may happen next time she raises her voice at you.  Just a few swats.”  Dan looked at Tony, reassuring him as he lifted her skirt one more time.  “You can do it.”

Tony let out a long sigh and considered Dan’s request.  What could a few swats hurt?  He stood up and placed his hand on Elaine’s back.  What the heck.  He cleared his throat and pulled out his most stern tone of voice.

“Elaine, you will not speak to like that ever again, is that clear?”  He watched in utter amazement as her head nodded.  With that he lifted his arm and gave her one, two, three smacks.  Elaine jumped slightly after each one.   His hand was stinging, but from the looks of it he was sure Elaine was much worse off

He looked back at Dan, who seemed pleased as he moved the chair out of the way.  He lead Elaine, still crying , by the arm, back to the corner.

Returning to the couch, Dan turned the volume back up on the game.  He turned to Tony.  “Good job!  Next time we’ll have you use the belt.”

Finding A Balance

"“There's a balance in my life, there's reality and there's the part that looks really glamorous, but we're all just people in the end.” Olivia Newton John

Some girls day-dream of a prince charming coming to sweep them off their feet . While developing my ideals of DD, I dreamt of a prince charming alright, just not exactly putting me on his horse and riding off into the sunset. No, my prince charming had a few other positions up his sleeve. I sometimes imagine a highly romanticized version of DD. Heavy in discipline. My every move micro managed,a consequence for every single smart mouthed comment I'd make and every misstep would be noticed and taken care of on the spot. I would spend my days in full "submission mode". Intriguing? Of course! Realistic? I'm afraid not. How could anyone possibly get anything done with all the upkeep involved? How emotionally exhausting would something like that be?

Then you have reality, where every day mundane tasks and responsibilities that have to be taken care of whether I'm submissive or not. My job, for instance, is not exactly chocked full of opportunities to submit, even if we're working side by side. If I stood around and waited to be TOLD what to do at work, deadlines and details would be forgotten.

I constantly sway between these two worlds. My goal is to find better ways to make them meet. In the past few weeks, I've managed to wear skirts and heels to work everyday. That's a start! Feeling feminine at work is a big deal to me which in turn helps me feel submissive. I think my next step is to do some sort of action when I come home from work to transition into a more submissive role. I don't know what that is just yet. It'll come to me soon enough.