Examining Submission Journaling Exercise - Day 13

Is sexual availability, being available to your partner any time he or she wants, part of your submission? Why or why not? Are there limits to this?

I am available to him anytime he wants. And he is available to me anytime I want. I genuinely desire him. And he genuinely desires me.  It can be a distraction at times. As you try to get through a day, and thoughts of him dance through my mind and my body tells me- you need him now --- hey, I said now --- why aren't you listening? NOW! ----- leave the cart in the middle of the store...NOW! Hmmm, yup!

There are no limits, not for either of us. Even when one of us is tired. Intimacy is such a relationship affirming thing, that we each pull ourselves up for the other (barring actual illness, of course). Making those concessions, and reaffirming the connection is amazing.

With the crazy schedule Ward has,  in the months before a deployment they have increased duty. Every other day, or every 2 days he will have a 36 hour shift. That special shift leads right into a regular work day - ugh. I can be going insane by the time he gets home. He'll ask, I'll say, that's okay, you're tired (okay, so maybe I pout despite my best intentions - but I try REALLY hard not to), and he'll smile and say, no love, you need me, sleep can wait - how awesome is that? 

10 - wait 20 - oh no 30 - okay 34 Things I love about Daddy (in no particular order)

1. His heart
2. His soul
3. His mind
4. His open heart
5. His body (dang my Daddy is FINE!)
6. His voice (what that does to me!)
7. His smile
8. His lips (YUMMY)
9. His scruff! (YUMMY)
10. His arms
11. His hands
12. His scent
13. His shoulders (SWOON)
14. His lap (on and across)
15. His sense of humor
16. His laugh
17. His dimples
18. His eyebrows (like to bite 'em - don't ask - it is an unexplainable compulsion)
19. His stories
20. His patience
21. His sense of fairness
22. His courage
23. His honor
24. His grace (of body, mind, heart, soul)
25. His character
26. His chivalrous nature
27. His heartbeat under my ear
28. His sense of fun
29. His leadership
30. His love for me and our family
31. His yummy desserts
32. His honesty
33. His virtuous nature
34. His acceptance and support

Examining Submission Journaling Exercise - Day 12

Do you include financial submission within the definition of your own submission and if yes, how does it manifest itself? If no, is there a particular reason why? Are you familiar with the concepts of financial submission? Do you have an opinion about financial submission in general?

I'm not sure I really understand what financial domination is. I looked it up and came across a bunch of stuff looks like get rich quick by playing dominant- send-me-money-now-worm kinda stuff. So if that's what it means, then no.

Do I work? Yes, and will until at least my school loans are paid off, because I think that's an unfair burden to bring to our relationship if I don't contribute. Daddy says he is perfectly happy to support us, but I don't want him working himself to death. I incurred it, it's my education, I should contribute to it's repayment.

Does Daddy handle the money? Absolutely. Firstly, because we both see it as the role of the HoH, we discuss everything, but he's in charge. Secondly, I hate money. I am perfectly happy to hand over that responsibility, and he is quite skilled financially. I don't really see it as a separate entity, I see it as part of our particular relationship dynamic, it's just what works for us. I don't necessarily see it as a component of any part of certain aspects of our dynamic (like D/s, D/lg or DD). I just see it as part of his leadership.

How many of us?

This may trigger some readers, please be aware before reading. 

This is something that I have been wondering for a long time. I've talked to some friends about the experience. Daddy knows, of course, Daddy knows everything. Without outing anyone who is not ready, my very good friend Monster's Nightmare talks about her experience on her blog. My new friend faerie talks about hers on her blog. Faerie says she is tired of keeping the secret, and it made me think maybe I am, too. And I wonder how many of us have been broken...

My father was largely absent from my life. He technically lived in the house, in the spare room where his wife had relegated him, until she required his services. He worked three or four jobs, all the time, because she spent money like water. I learned as I grew that it was a relief, likely, to have the reason to be away from her. She slept with a loaded Winchester under her bed and took pleasure in threatening him with it at regular intervals, that someday she'd come in when he was asleep and blow him away.

'She' is the woman who gave birth to me. She is not my mother, mothers don't do the things she did. She was an unwilling womb-donor. My mother is the woman my father married when I was 16. She taught me what is was to be a mother as I observed her with my brother and sister. She gave me some kind of foundation for how to treat my children. I am grateful for her presence in my life. I would have been lost without her....literally. She welcomed me out of a black hole and into her home when I was 16 - right before she married my father - how great a sacrifice is that?

The womb donor was schizophrenic. She was an alcoholic. She was addicted to street and prescription drugs. She was abusive in every way possible. Once, curious about a Christmas present she threatened me until I told her what she was to receive, then beat me into the corner for spoiling the surprise. It was our secret, though & when she opened it and acted surprised, she gave me a conspiratorial wink. Things like that were commonplace. She would take the money my father would give her for bills and food and go away for the weekend with her men - another secret, wink-wink. She would wake me at 2 or 3AM, and I would be made to bring her dresser drawers down one at a time, stand behind them while she directed me how to clean & straighten them, and told me I was a worthless pig, a whore, a slut ...words I had no concept of their meaning, and which still bring violent reactions to me to this day. Hour after hour, drawer after drawer, hurtful word after hurtful word.

She was very promiscuous. There was an endless parade of men in and out of our house. My father was never there, his main job was shift-work, made it easy for her. Some of her men friends liked little girls. She made me available to them. My first clear memory was at age 5. It stopped about 12 or 13. Sometimes she would leave me alone with them. Sometimes she was there, holding me down, telling me this is what the big girls do, and I wanted to be a big girl, didn't I? I learned how to dissociate just to be numb, to not have to experience things, and to be able to save myself from worse, reaction meant it got worse- never show them how much it hurts.

She broke me. I disliked touch and intimacy - they are still hard for me. I didn't - still don't - trust easily. I am a big researcher. When I started exploring I learned that my submissive nature could have been nurtured by my childhood, and my need to be pleasing, loved and accepted. I've tried to understand why I need the things in my life that I do having come from that.

The Daddy part - heck that's easy - he is reparenting that part of me. I am free to be that which I never was before, sweet, small, innocent, and treasured. I am free to see and experience my sense of delight and wonder in the world, and someone is delighted by it.  I am free to trust, and know that my trust will not be broken. I am free to enjoy touch, with love. Thank you, Daddy, I love you with my all, your love is unconditional and that is my miracle. YOU are my miracle, and I am forever grateful for you.

The DD part, that's a little harder. This is what I figure - my world was inconsistent. There was no sure footing. Things were variable. With DD, there is surety. There is structure. There are rules which do not change. They are enforced with consistency and love.

There is another part of it - why do I crave spanking when I am stressed, when I am hurt, when I need to feel my place. Again, this is what I believe... I learned to shut off my emotions to save myself. But that doesn't mean that behind my placid face I was not screaming. I can take any physical pain you can give to me. I crumble under emotional pain. Spanking takes that emotional pain, transfers it to my flesh and it disappears - it is a purge.

I wonder all the time, and I see stories like Monster's Nightmare's and faerie's that mirror my own, and I wonder just how many of us have suffered like this. I wonder how many of us have found the love and acceptance that we crave in this lifestyle. And I wonder if that is why we are so tolerant of the variances in experience, and expression - because we sense that kinship.

Examining Submission Journaling Exercise - Day 11

Do you include service as a part of your expectations of your submission? How do you define service? What does it mean to you? If not, what is it about the concept of service that is not for you?

This one is answered solely in the context of my relationship with Ward. Because that has deepened and changed with our relationship.

To serve Daddy I let him know that he is respected and held in high regard. I elevate him not only in our home, but to the world in general. To the best of my abilities, and with acknowledgment of my humanity and it's inherent faults, conduct myself within the guidelines that he has set. I do my best to make our home a comfortable, peaceful place for our family.

I like having things done for him, if possible, or if not, providing him with the research so that he can make a decision (say a plumbing issue, I obviously can't fix it, but I will get estimates for the job ready for him). I try to be anticipatory. He's had a bad day, have things ready, a bath drawn, meal ready, pamper the day out of him.
He does all the same things for me. We serve each other. We relieve each other. We care for each other.

How I would define service? I guess the closest would be anticipating, meeting and exceeding if possible, the wants/needs/desires of the person you love, so that they understand how greatly they are valued.

Ten things I fear

• Spiders (see previous post on really icky HUGE spider)
• Mean/domineering people
• Snakes
• Not giving my children all the tools they need
• Big cities
• People who don't respect limits
• People who don't respect the sanctity of our personal spaces (homes, relationships, bodies, minds)
• The unknown
• Being alone
• Not being enough

Examining Submission Journaling Exercise - Day 10

Does any element of BDSM occur as a part of your submissive relationships? How do you feel about BDSM? Is it core to your submission, peripheral or non-existent (other than the submission part)?

Well now that's a question. I dunno. When I started exploring things, that's the place I started exploring. There are things that I am curious about, but would never had done with anyone, and thought were hard limits. Like, having my hands immobilized - say in Daddy's hands, or rope.I never trusted anyone enough. The idea of having Daddy do those things is very seductive. Another thing - I saw lots of pictures with men's hands on women's throats, that was another big no-no, but it's something I told Daddy not long before he was deployed, that I would not mind if he tried.

Other than the things above that I would like to try, and in the practice of our lives - I guess more of the D/s, part, but I don't necessarily see that as exclusively BDSM. I see it as an independent element that many lifestyles have in common. That being said, my submission to Ward is not just in scene, not just in the bedroom, it is in every thing we do. Again, spanking is not exclusively BDSM, but also an independent element that is D/s, but can belong in D/lg, BDSM, DD - all across the alternative spectrum.

BDSM is certainly not the core of my submission. I don't submit solely for sensation play, I submit to his leadership. And as I said somewhere before on this blog - if I had to put the core of my submission somewhere, it would have to be more based on the biblical model of submission.

Honor

 Honor is a concept that you don't see discussed much anymore.  To be possessed of honor is almost an antiquated virtue, something that went out with the age of chivalry. Honor speaks to personal dignity and character. It is an abstract concept that, psychologically speaking, is as real to the human mind as love. Dr. Samuel Johnson described honor as "nobility of soul, magnanimity, and a scorn of meanness." The modern dictionary defines it as: (n) honesty, fairness, or integrity. 

One who is possessed of honor is honorable, described in the modern dictionary as being of high rank, dignity, or distinction; noble, illustrious, or distinguished, worthy of honor and high respect; estimable; creditable.

We give honor to honorable people, we regard or treat them with admiration and respect.

Honor is a very large thing. It is something that we can possess, it is something that is the fabric of our being. It is something that we can gift to others.

In the world at large we don't see very much honor. We see things that are very wearying. One thing has struck me, as I find my way and make my home in this community of bloggers. Honor is a concept with which we are all well acquainted. It is at the center of our relationships. It is something that we value and strive to perpetuate. We encourage it in ourselves and in our friends. 
  

Honor is not a one way concept for us in this community. It is not something that comes from the bottom up. It is something that cycles from us to our partners and from them back to us. They honor our submission. We are loved, cherished, respected and elevated. We honor their leadership. And we love, cherish, respect and elevate our partners. This reciprocity builds bonds of loyalty, and we strive to maintain these positive relationships. We have a higher degree of empathy for each other.

We honor and support others in the community and their individual journeys, and we receive the same in return.



 
People think that we are an aberration, a throwback to times of servitude and subjugation. They do not see or understand the beauty, the gentility, the high standards to which each of us holds ourselves. I would rather live in this community of honorable people, than the world of 'equal' and 'liberated' persons.

I honor and thank my Daddy. He is the most honorable, honest, loyal and nurturing person I have ever had the privilege of having in my life. He honors my submission, and he asks nothing more of me than that I be the very best me that I can be. He honors and humbles me with his love. I love him with my all.

I thank each and every one of my new friends. I thank you for your humor. I thank you for your wisdom. I thank you for your insights. I thank you for your ears. I thank you for your ideas and your advice. I thank you for your welcoming acceptance of Daddy and myself, and of each other. I am humbled and honored to know each and every one of you.

Examining Submission Journaling Exercise - Day 9

Do you accept and/or expect structure, rules and limits as a part of your submission? How do you feel about them?

Well, yes. It's Daddy's job to keep order, to establish rules that move us to where we want to be. I've seen some rules that others have and they are prohibitive (yeah - yeah - no pun intended). They seem kind of frivolous. The rules that Daddy makes are rules that keep destructive influences out of our relationship.

Our rules so far are pretty simple, the basic 4 D's - no disrespect, danger, dishonesty, disobedience. Daddy added: no distance (bad habit & I think I'm being considerate when I do it - go figure), no self-deprecation (I have very poor self-image), no bad language (umm - yeah :">), and that I will engage in self-care (I overlook my own needs in favor of everyone else), no fit-throwing ("It would be beneficial for you, little one, if I did not find out you threw a fit" - when I said I was gunna throw a fit cause the post office lost an important package - ummm, yes, Sir :-> My behavior is a reflection of him).

I like structure. I like being under his authority. I understand the reasons for all the rules, they are not arbitrary, they benefit me as a submissive, us as a couple and our relationship. I'm content with what he has put in place, and grateful that he has given such thoughtful consideration to things that will enrich us and help us to grow.

Examining Submission Journaling Exercise - Day 8

Is spanking or corporal punishment a part of your submission? Why or why not?

Yes, Daddy and I have talked about this, and we're not sure how you can have this kind of relationship without having a correction dynamic. If he is my authority he has to have some way to make corrections. Yes, we're both huge spankos. Yes spanking is still an effective consequence.

Correction is much different than either maintenance/reassurance/stress relief (which have all the nice fuzzies, gentle strokes, words, kisses), and good-girls. I've only been corrected once. It started for me as soon as Daddy expressed displeasure. I was immediately remorseful, because I dislike disappointing him. That put me in the frame to accept correction, to actually need it to feel like the air between us is cleared.

The common thread in all the different kinds of spanking is that it allows me to express and to feel my submission to him. And it allows him to express and to feel his Dominance. It makes me feel safe, secure, loved, and grounded.

Healthy Pain (Erotica)

I know it hurts my darling,
I see how you struggle,
see you fighting
for what you think you desire.

Sometimes this is how it is,
the pain helps,
sometimes it's more
than just the sum of lashes,
 the blows from a paddle
or the calloused palms of my hands.

Sometimes it is a transport,
a vehicle that takes us
where we long to go the most.
You don't always see it but I do,
all of those subtle signs
that you give off
when you need me
to take control.

No,
I'm not going to stop yet,
so you might as well settle in,
you need this,
I,
no we need this
and I will not fail you.

You gasp for breath
as the bubinga slams
into the softest part of your ass...
you make that adorable noise
you make when you are being spanked.

You make me proud to know you,
proud to be yours,
proud to have you in my life
and when you kick your legs like that,
you have my undivided attention.

That big, lovely round bottom of yours
is red and hot to the touch
as I spank it
and even beyond that I notice the change.
I can feel it in your body
and almost smell it in the air around us.

After I hold you,
after you come down,
after we make love
you'll feel like brand new,
like the beautiful princess you are,
and like the loving, compassionate soul,
I've been lucky enough to find,
but not yet.

Right now
I need for you to feel this,
I need for you to release
the weeks of pent up emotion, frustration and longing....

This is healthy pain,
the kind that will help us grow
and become beautiful and strong,
timeless and sublime...
this is my devotion unto you.

I hold you in my arms,
nearly lathered
by my lengthy efforts
into a foray as necessary as breath itself.

You never did cry,
and I wasn't looking for it,
but when I look in those eyes so blue,
I see that glimmer of relief,
that release and trust that you save only for me...

You're blushing at both ends
and won't admit it,
but we both know you needed it
and I'm content that you know that I know.

It's not time yet,
but I long to take the pain away
Now, I want more than anything
to soothe the ache
and replace it with one of life's greatest pleasures..

But now, you need the heat,
and as I slide into you,
the latent kinetic force
slams into my body
and rocks me from head to toe...

I'll never stop taking care of you
and you'll never be alone....
I lost myself in you
 and as you scream your utmost
I know that there is no other place
 that we could be right now...

The aftercare soothes
and you wiggle and giggle
as I massage the oil
into your still red skin,
you tease and taunt,
and there she is,
my happy, special girl...
back at last.

Ward ~ 3-2011

UGH - this is Daddy's job!

Okay, so, Daddy knows I am afraid of spiders. And he has undertaken as part of his responsibility, to be chief spider slayer (well relocater - I don't kill 'em, but I don't want 'em in the house either). But of course Daddy is deployed (kicks the Navy).

I go out to put my daily letter in the mailbox before the mail person gets there. I have siding, so the mail box does not sit flush to the house. There is a space, and where the panels overlap, a fairly large gap. And I'm jiggling the lid to sit my letter so the mail person sees it (like they don't know by now there will be one or more letter to Daddy going out daily), and a movement catches my eye. I look closer & what do I see between the back of the mailbox & the siding?

Oh CRUD! Y'all Southern girls know what's comin', dontcha?

Then I see him - UGH - a forest wood spider! And these things are no little spider, or cute wispy little Daddy long-legs, all frail, little hair-like legs and a candy dot of a body, 2 inches off the ground. Noooooooooooooo, these things are HUGE HONKIN' SPIDERS - they are the MACK TRUCKS of spiders. And no - you do not need a close up lens to see those beady little eyes. They were glittering back at me!


Now, for those of you who have never seen one, and think I'm exaggerating, let me give you an idea of the relative size of this huge icky creature trying to keep me from my mail.

 I want my Daddy!

But I will put on my big girl panties, and get my bottle of Windex and assume a defensive posture on mail recognizance until my vanquisher of spiders comes home. I will not be deterred. *thumbs nose defiantly - then shudders*

Examining Submission Journaling Exercise - Day 7

Do you accept and/or expect discipline or punishments as a part of your submission? How do you feel about it?

I both accept and expect discipline and correction. Daddy dislikes the term punishment because it is negative, he prefers correction. Correction speaks to a positive change, resetting, clearing the air and wiping the slate clean. I personally do not understand how you can have this kind of relationship without discipline and correction. For me that would not work. But I need that.

I am grateful that Daddy loves me enough to provide guidance, and even when it is difficult for him, to provide correction. Aside from play, I need what some call maintenance/submission spankings to keep me grounded. I need to feel Daddy's authority, and I need to feel and express my submission. In times of high stress I need stress-relief/submission spankings. And if I have done something which is harmful to myself or our relationship, something disrespectful, I need to be corrected, or it will eat at me. I need to pay across Daddy's lap and I need the forgiveness it brings.

It seems incongruous, but I have seen it expressed on other blogs. The fact that he does this for me, the fact that he willingly leads our relationship and provides structure, discipline and correction makes me feel incredibly loved, cherished and safe.

Missing my Daddy

Some days are harder than others. This was one of those some days. I was coming back from getting some pictures made to send him. And on my way to the post office to pick up some "Love" stamps, cause I'm almost out. And I don't know if it was the calculation of how many I'd need to get through this deployment, or there was a song on the radio. I don't know what started it, but I started bawling, big heaving sobs while I was driving.

Enter the post office eyes red, swollen and brimming with tears, cheeks blotchy, nose red & runny, and said, "May I have some "Love" stamps, please?" The woman at the counter took one look at me and said, "Awwwww, sure, honey."  
Sigh.....



I made a project to help us both. I bought 2 packs of sleeveless t-shirts and washed them in our fabric softener so they smell like home. I wore one with one of my favorite perfumes, Butterfly Flowers. I wore another with a perfume Daddy bought me, Carried Away. And the last, I took a long soak in all the yummy lavender stuff Daddy buys me, and wore that. I sealed each one in two ziploc bags to preserve the scent. The other three shirts, I'm sending to Daddy and asking him to wear them & send them back to me.

Examining Submission Journaling Exercise - Day 6

What do you feel are the roots of your submission? Do you think it has something to do with childhood? Is it a relationship management tool as in the practice of domestic discipline? Is it a sexual thrill or something else?

I think that I developed a lot of my submissive characteristics as a survival mechanism during my childhood. But I also think that there is a component that is hardwired. I have had an interest in aspects since I was very young, and was researching things with the limited resources available.

I don't necessarily think of it as a relationship management tool. It's not something that came with the relationship, it preceded the relationship. Daddy's naturally, gently Dominant nature is what drew me to him. It oozes off of him, thick and sticky and deliciously enticing. It is, to borrow a line from Twilight "exactly my brand of heroine". And I have learned that my submissive nature was equally enticing to him. We just kind of fit, not a click, but a gentle filling of all the holes and gaps. It is organic and amoebic, it flows and shifts, and encompasses. He consumes me and I consume him. We feed each other in some very fundamental ways. It is just our natures.

What we would consider as relationship management tools, are the gentle stretching, discipline and correction, and all the yummy play. Those are the things that manage flux, and help to enforce, enrich and nurture our roles and our relationship.

Examining Submission Journaling Exercise - Day 5

Have you been or are you in a dominant/submissive dynamic relationship or is this new to you? Have you been in more than one D/s relationship? How were they the same? How were they different? What is unique about your relationships in your mind?

I have had Dominant play-partners in the past. This is what I would consider my first D/s-based relationship. I am a person who requires commitment to give myself fully. So I found having play-partners educational, but not in the least fulfilling. They were missing an emotional component, but they did prove that I had the capacity for this type of relationship. With those two partners, it was simply about learning my limits and abilities. I used my right to say no, I won't do that, you are a Dominant, but you are not my Dominant outside of play. And I used my safeword.

With Daddy, there are leagues of difference in how it feels. I am his - completely - totally. I give him the gift of my surrender. I have no need to say no - I want to say yes to all that he could ever ask. I want to anticipate things he has not even imagined that he wants/needs/desires. I give him my love, my trust, my submission, my surrender, and the power of authority over me, and I know that he will never abuse that.

Examining Submission Journaling Exercise - Day 4

Do you switch into a dominant role at any time? If you are in a domestic discipline relationship, are there things that you maintain control over? Are you a “switch” in BDSM terms? If not, have you ever thought about it or given thought to why it’s not for you?

Now that is just entirely too silly! I do not have a dominant bone in my body. Before Daddy I was approached by several lifestyle friends who asked if I could switch with them. And the mere thought makes me nervous & uncomfortable. I am not dominant. I do not like being in charge.It is tiring because it is not being true to myself.

In my relationship with Daddy, of course there are things I maintain control over. I maintain control over the way I represent myself. Daddy does not control that, but he does hold me accountable. I am mindful that my behavior not only represents me, it represents Daddy, and models for our children. I maintain control over my responsibilities. Daddy does not micromanage, but he does hold me accountable. I am mindful that when I uphold my responsibilities our home is a place of peace and respite.

Examining Submission Journaling Exercise - Day 3

How do you know you are submissive or have the potential to be submissive? How do you feel when you express your submission?

I have always acquiesced to those around me, and I have a heart for service. If I am with friends and they say they are too busy to cook with their schedule, I make meals and freeze them so they only need to pop them in the nuker. Or if someone says I need a doctor that does this and have no idea where to begin to look, I'll come up with a list. It is inconceivable to me if someone is in need, not to give the most that I can to alleviate the situation.

In my three prior relationships, I attempted to solicit my partners into being the dominant party, taking control. I tried to solicit them to institute a discipline aspect into the relationship. Yeah, ummm - that didn't work. But then again, they were domineering, but not Dominant. When I first started researching this lifestyle I learned that children who come from abusive homes can often become submissive by nurture, and that makes sense. We become used to being subjugated. I think this is part of the reason that I will bristle against chest-pounding 'dominants'.

With Daddy, it was slow and gentle. I saw the fabric of his character, my trust in him flourished, and I flexed under his hand. I am the willow and he is the wind that moves me, gently without breaking me. With him, there is no feeling of subjugation. There is exaltation. There is joy. He honors my submission, and I want to give him more. He lifts me up. He holds me up. He fills me up. He completes me. I am precious to him. And that leaves me completely awed and breathless.

Examining Submission Journaling Exercise - Day 2

Describe who you might submit to and how. Are you exclusively submissive in marriage or just in the bedroom? Are you submissive only in the context of a scene or in a role or throughout your daily life? Are you submissive to play partners or only in the context of a relationship?

 I only submit to Ward. And I am submissive in all ways. Ward takes care of finances, and that is fine with me. In fact, in the beginning I approached him and asked him if he could please be the money manager because it stresses me out. I'm always afraid I'll forget something.

We discuss all things, but Ward makes the final decision, and I'm comfortable with that. Ward will dig and dig (gently) until he is sure he has not only my opinion, but my feelings. Interesting qualification, huh? But sometimes you are either unsure, or you know what contributes to the greater good, but it may make you sad, or uneasy.

For instance, there is a decision that Ward is making now. He asked what I thought and I told him what I would like, and told him that I know whatever decision he makes will be to the greatest benefit of our relationship and I would support him. The fact is, I will support him, but I really hope that the decision goes one way, because it means more time together. We were talking and I said it's not fair that I keep bringing it up. You know what I think, and I trust you to make the decision. And to keep bringing it up seems like it would be manipulative. You know what I think. And he said, yes, I know what you think, but I need to know how you feel. So I told him, and he thanked me. And I felt better.

Now the blushworthy stuff, I am submissive also in the bedroom. I can, perhaps take the initiative, but I always say, I want to do this, would you like that? May I have this? May I do this? He likes that. It both shows my desire for him, and my respect for him as my Dominant partner. (And I'm not gonna lie - cause that's against the rules and stuff - but it makes him squirm & I LOVE that :"> )

Well what do you know about that?

I had therapy this morning. And it was a kind of low morning, I had eyes brimming with tears when she came in the room to get me. She said I see you're feeling sad and lonely - ya think? So we started talking, I said the first few days were not too bad, then I just went flat. That's how I've dealt with emotional pain all my life. And actually why I think I am a spanko. I would rather be spanked 16 ways to Sunday than to have to feel emotional pain. And spanking takes the emotional pain transfers it to flesh, and then like magic it's gone. Then yesterday and today, tears.

Now the funny thing about my therapist, when I first talked about Daddy with her, she was totally non-judgmental, but I could see her jaw muscles flex and every now and then her eyes would narrow ever so slightly. I don't know if she was even aware, but I was aware of it. Over all this time, she has said that she has learned so much about this lifestyle from me, and she has made peace with it. It's not the barbarous thing she thought it was. She is genuinely interested. And her face bears no shadows or tension. She has remarked on several occasions as to what exceptional communication, respect and consideration exists between us.

She asked me today what could I do to feel him while he is gone. I said I bought a special folder, colored papers and pens, envelopes, and I carry it around all day, and keep a running dialog with him. So it feels like there is an immediacy of communication, and I am still able to share the day with him. At the end of each day, I seal it and date it on the outside, so that when he gets a drop and a pile of mail, he knows the chronology, and if he wants he can parse them out till the next mail drop. I also got a call from the unit phone tree with a very special message from him that was like receiving a hug across the miles.

She said she was amazed at the level of intimacy that we have developed. She is amazed at how very in tune to each other we are, and how we care about and provide care for each other. She said that of all her clients she has never seen this level of commitment between two people. And she said....and here is the - What do you know about that moment - we have the healthiest, most intimate relationship she has every seen. That made me smile. For all the people that think TTWD is harmful or abusive,  we actually have above average intimacy. We're doing something right. I knew that, but it's nice to have that affirmation from someone outside our little sphere. And it's nice to know that others actually perceive us to have what we feel we have.

I don't know why that helped, but it did, and the ache is still there, but not as urgent. I miss him, my God, I don't think I could ever express how deeply I miss him. Just like I can never adequately express how very much I love him. They are emotions that are bigger than me. Maybe the point of it all is to remind us that we just can't live without each other. You know the saying, don't find the person you can live with, find the person that you simply cannot live without. Ward is my person. And you know what? As I typed that line a peace fell over me. True love waits, so do I.

Examining Submission Journaling Exercise - Day 1

I found this journaling exercise, and decided to work this on the blog. Both because I think it will be an interesting examination of my submission, and can maybe deepen over this deployment, and also to help me when I can't motivate my brain to do anything cause I miss Ward so much I want to lay on the floor, stare into the rain like a turkey and...well....if you know turkeys, you know what I mean.

Does your submission – either what you practice or what you strive for – have a label? Do you view your submission as Taken in Hand, domestic discipline, top/bottom, dominant/submissive, master/slave, owner/pet, or some other description or combination? If you do not use a label, why?

I don't really like labels. They are confining. I've also said on a couple of responses on others' blogs that they kind of make me feel we are out in left field somewhere.  There are lots of aspects to our relationship. Daddy is a Dominant. I am a submissive, so yes we are in a D/s relationship. He is Daddy, and I am his little girl. So we are D/lg. We incorporate discipline and correction into our dynamic, so we are DD. Daddy is the absolute authority, and makes all final decisions, controls the finances etc, so we are a '50s-style household.

We are not Taken-in-Hand, that implies a more assertive  non-Dominant partner. We're not M/s, though I have moved beyond submission to Daddy. There is nothing I would refuse him. But both of us dislike the term slave because of the negative connotations to us personally, though we do not judge anyone else to whom that dynamic speaks.

In all actuality, we dislike labels, because we are a lot of things, but we are mostly just ourselves, and it fits us and it feels good.

What kind of submission?

 I think too much, I always have, and I have an insidious, wrongly-programmed, little inner voice. I know that some things just are, and defy understanding, but it doesn't stop me from trying to understand them, cause, well I think too much (see how I made that a circle, being inside my head can be maddening sometimes).



Leaving all sensation out of it, from a strictly emotional perspective, sometimes I try to understand my need for submission and where exactly it comes from. I understand from research when I first started exploring this lifestyle that my incredibly screwed up childhood predisposed me to submission. As for the rest of it, I do believe that one can be hardwired to want/need/desire the sensation. It seems the desire for sensation can be on the nature side of the nature-v-nurture equation, and the need to submit on the nurture side. (And being that my children both have Sensory Processing Disorder, one being a sensory seeker, I can understand the sensation part pretty well - you can message me if you want to know more about SPD, and I do have more on that in our other blog A Day in the Life of Grass Eaters).

And I wonder how much is partner sensitive. I am naturally submissive, I acquiesce. But with Ward, oh my goodness, there is such a connection, he touches that place of submission in me and there is not a single thing I would not do for him. I trust him. There is such an incredible emotional connection, that fills me, and makes me feel whole.

When I started exploring that part of myself, I did as many do, and explored BDSM. It just didn't click all the boxes. But for some reason, I equated DD with Christianity, and I don't have a real good view of that. I was raised Catholic, and it is oppressive, not much concerned with the souls of the faithful, really - more with what comes in the collection plates. I know a few fundamentalist Christians, and I found the men to be controlling and domineering rather than Dominant.




Don't get me wrong, I am not anti-God. I love God. I believe that he brings all good things in my life, my children, my Ward. But I have a very difficult time with organized religions that are more administrative than heart of God. So I eschewed the idea of biblical submission.














Now a funny thing happens. I read all the time. I thrive on learning. I have found several very good books on submission and surrendering. And I just found A Submitted Wife, and she has a sidebar with several recommendations for books I had not previously known about. I always want to learn to be more and better for him, so I study, I read your blogs. I learn. (If anyone knows of any good books, I'd welcome recommendations).

So the conundrum is this, I find that my submission to Ward pretty well naturally follows the biblical submission model - how in the world did that happen? The more I read, the more I see the parallels. I'm not sure if that perplexes me, or amuses me. I wonder if anyone else has pondered that question.

When submission is hard

I'm sorry for my absence this past week, and the disruption in our normal kind of posts. As I'm sure you've seen, Ward has deployed. He had asked for a story to hold him over, silly Daddy. Aside from the private one that I write for us, which is a fanciful fairy tale. And my own emotions poured out in poetry - I write when I am overwhelmed. Aside from that, I have been thinking how I am going to live the next several months when my heart is out of my body and floating the seas, and how in the world I am going to breathe.


I feel a bit lost and rudderless (no pun intended...with Daddy being a sailor). But my guide is gone. This is when submission is hard for me. How do I submit? How do I serve? How do I do all of the things associated with the family when Daddy does those things better? I've been coping by keeping a running commentary, on paper, and sending daily letters. But there are moments when I feel I could crumble.

It was during one of those moments when I realized that he is still my authority, whether he is in the same room, across the country, across the sea or sailing it. I know the things he wants from me. I understand the expectations he has for me, for us, for our family and for our future. I know that in all things I represent him. I am the reflection of all the things he has gifted me, of his love, and all the things he has taught me.So I can serve him by doing this well. I can serve him by making him proud. I can serve him by representing him well.

So please everyone, say a prayer that Daddy comes home soon and safe. I've already told him I am going to be like the world's largest marsupial. People will look at him, "Look at that poor man with that large creature affixed to his chest!" And I won't give a darn, I'll be too busy showing him how very glad I am that he is home.

The Prince and His Princess (Poetry)

Every little girl

Dreams of her very own

Prince Charming

The one

That will sweep her off her feet

The one

Who will slay all the dragons

The one

Who will keep her safe

The one

Who will bid the sun to rise

Just for her

The one

Who will bring the moon and the stars

On a rope, place them in a bottle

And place them around her neck.

Every young lady

Sees those dreams dissolve

There is no one

Who possesses such a noble spirit

There is no one

Who is as unselfish

There is no one

Who is as strong and courageous

In this ordinary world

Some very lucky women

Receive a gift from the Creator

Some walk out of the heavens

Mine walked out of the sea

My Prince,

The one

Who takes my very breath away

The one

Who holds my beating heart

In his very hands

The one

Who would lay down his life for me

The one

I would die for

My Prince

My valorous one

Slays more dragons than mine

And he has a call

To protect a greater kingdom

Than the one we inhabit

He must leave me

For a time

I wish

Like a fairy tale princess

That I could be cast

Under a spell

That would let me sleep

Until my Prince returned

And with a gentle touch

And a soft kiss

Breathe life

Into my waiting heart, again.

4-11-12

Well I'm Off On An Adventure

I have asked June to make this post for me. As you know, I am a sailor. And I have just embarked on a deployment. I will be away for a little while, but June will still be here, and she could probably use your company while I'm gone.

I will return in late summer, early fall, and I look forward to seeing how we've grown, and how many new friends we've made. Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers.If the communications networks cooperate, I may be able to send June a post or two to make for me. If not, I'll see you all very soon.


Her POV:

My chest is empty, because my heart is on the seas, my lungs are empty, because he is the air that I breathe. He is my world. I love him with all that I am and all that I have. I am proud of him, and I will have my eyes on the horizon for that sweet, sweet day he sails back into sight.

Delightful (Erotica)

Water clings to your curves
in a passionate embrace.
You've always taken my breath away
when you step out of the tub
but somehow tonight is different.

Your eyes sparkle wickedly
and somehow they challenge me,
dare me to come to you...
to take what is mine.

You're still wet
when the towel falls away from you
and as I embrace you,
the water soaks my skin
through my shirt
and I laugh not caring,
knowing that in time
you will cling to me
and bring me to my utmost.

You squeal playfully
and kick those luscious legs
as I begin to spank
that delightfully round backside of yours...

I love the way you grind
against my knee,
the way you seem
to raise your bottom into my waiting hand,
the way your bottom bounces, jiggles, and reddens
and the way you spread your legs for me.

You give me access to all of you,
not just your body
and I honor your gift
with my devotion to your growth, happiness and love....

We move forward
and you do that thing you do...
 you know,
the one where those endorphins
catapult you into that special place,
the place you need to go
to feel complete, safe and happy.

I sigh as we wind down
and for a moment
I just want to hold you.
Your warm red ass
grinding against me....
arousing me
taking me through the cycle of feelings
I get for you making me want you...
making me take you...

I slide against your warm wetness
and in that moment
we are complete.

 I hold you in my arms afterwards
and in our security
I find inspiration.
I sigh,
and recount the day to be treasured
before sleep finds me...
it was delightful.

Ward ~ 4-2011

Prelude to the Lunch Date

Grace smoothed her skirt and her hair, and wondered if she were crazy to be doing this. A good friend, to whom she had confessed her desires and revealed her submissive nature, had given her the address of the club she now stood before. She debated, having left herself enough time for the inevitable inner dialog, outside whether this is really what she wanted. She knew that she was unfulfilled in her relationships. She knew she was weary. She knew that she longed for someone to be in charge, someone to take charge, for that finely honed masculine edge. Pursing her lips tightly, she rushed through the door before she could talk herself out of it. 

She approached the reception desk, trying to appear confident. From behind the highly polished, dark wood desk, an equally polished woman turned from her computer to face Grace with a warm smile, “Mr. DeMay is waiting for you, Miss O’Malley. Please have a seat, love.” Grace blushed, nodded, whispered a thank you, and took a seat on the elegantly understated and extraordinarily comfortable settee. She watched with admiration the fluidity with which the other woman moved, and was just studying the collar which circled her neck when the woman looked up, and said with a smile, “Mr. DeMay will see you now.” She rose and gestured to the door behind her desk, then as Grace approached she opened the door and held her arm out to usher Grace inside. 

An equally elegant gentleman rose, “Ah, Miss O’Malley, a pleasure.” He extended his hand to her and clasped her hand between his, “Please, sit.” He smiled warmly to the woman, “Thank you, Jenna, tea please.” The woman smiled and inclined her head slightly, “Of course, Master.” Grace’s eyes widened slightly, though she tried to remain inconspicuous. Her surprise was noted, and Micah covered his smile with a gesture, and it went unnoticed by Grace.

Grace was trying to appear even a fraction as poised as these elegant people, but her hands trembled, so she clasped them in her lap, chewed the inside of her lip and settled her eyes on the hem of her skirt. Micah smiled, laid a lovely tray of cookies on the table before her, along with a bone china plate and linen napkin, then went to the door and opened it for Jenna in a seemingly perfectly timed dance. Jenna entered and set a tray with a steaming pot of tea, cream, sugar and a plate of beautifully sliced lemons.  “And how do you take your tea, Grace?” he asked informally. Grace’s eyes flicked up momentarily, “With lemon and one sugar, please.” Micah spooned sugar into the china cup, then took a slice of lemon placed it in the cup, muddled it slightly with the spoon, and poured beautiful dark tea over top, turning the lemon a few times before placing a saucer beneath the cup and extending it to Grace. “Please relax, Grace, you’re entirely safe here.” Grace smiled uncertainly.

Micah took a seat in the opposite chair, set down his teacup and picked up a prepared folder at the side of his chair. He smiled easily, “So tell me, Grace, why have you decided to explore this part of your personality?” Grace nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice, she muttered an embarrassed apology and began, “Well, it is something I have always felt. But I have never felt that what I had to give was appreciated or accepted by my partners. I came here on referral of a friend, Maggie.” Micah smiled, “Yes, I remember Miss Warner quite well. We made a most successful match for her.” 

Grace smiled wistfully, “Yes, she is quite happy.” She raised her eyes to meet Micah’s for the first time and said softly, earnestly, “I would like to be as happy.” Micah reached over and placed his hand on hers, “We strive for no less.” She smiled gratefully before her eyes dropped again. Micah took up his pen, and said softly, “Please tell me, Grace, what it is you seek? Please be as specific as possible, don’t worry that it may seem fanciful to you. If you could create your perfect Prince Charming, what characteristics would he have?”

A smile passed across Grace’s lips, and touched her eyes which sparkled for a moment, before she began, “I would like someone possessing of quiet command, someone who can be felt when he enters a room, before he is ever seen. I would like someone in control, but not controlling. I would like someone who can make me feel small…not insignificant, but small and protected…cherished. I would like someone who understands that I give all of myself. I would like someone who will inspire my trust, my confidence, my obedience, my service and my devotion.”

Micah scribbled notes in the folder, nodding at points to indicate he was attentive. Laying down his pen, he said, “I have someone who may be a good match. He is seeking a life-partner, not a play partner. It sounds liked you are amenable to such an arrangement.” Grace smiled shyly and nodded. “Good,” Micah smiled and touched the intercom, asking Jenna to bring a file into the inner office. She complied a few moments later, and Grace noticed the way their fingers caressed the other’s as they passed the file, and she did not miss the look that accompanied the gesture and she sighed, yes, she thought, that kind of devotion. 

“This is the gentleman I mentioned,” Micah spoke softly, “His name is Thomas Ward. He has been a client and friend for many years. I can personally attest that he possesses many of the characteristics you describe. Please review the file, and if you are amenable, I will then share your file with him. Then we can arrange a first meeting.” Grace scanned the file and found the data to be quite intricate, several candid photos, where he shopped, dietary preferences, political affiliations, charities supported, volunteer activities, alcohol and tobacco consumption. 

She remarked on the completeness, and Micah laughed, “But my dear, that is what gave you the confidence to come through us, is it not?” Grace blushed and nodded, “And you have this information on me as well?” Micah nodded, “Yes dear, you signed the disclosure statement with your application, we began investigating then.” Grace nodded dizzily. Running through a dialog in her head, pros and cons,  and then Maggie’s obvious happiness, and the man on the paper before her that was seeming more like Prince Charming by the minute. Grace took a breath, and said softly, “He seems ….almost perfect.” Micah smiled and nodded. 

He presented her with a questionnaire, and explained, “Limits, my dear, what activities you are willing to engage in. You understand the terms hard and soft limits?” Grace nodded. Micah smiled and handed her the paper and a pen. She filled out the paper, sure that the tameness of her responses would dissolve the burgeoning match. When she finished she handed the paper to Micah, who passed them quickly into his tablet, and printed a report which showed a 100% match. Grace gasped. He smiled, “Thomas is also quite mild in his tastes. Shall we proceed?” Grace nodded. 

Smiling, Micah rose and helped Grace to her feet, “Most excellent. We will be in touch within a few days.” Grace thanked him and exited the office, passing Jenna, and thanking her as well. Jenna’s warm smile eased her anxiety a bit. When she exited the office Micah presented her file to Jenna and asked her to fax it to Thomas.

Thomas was just leaving his office when he heard the trill of the fax machine. He turned back, and with interest saw the fax from Micah’s office, with the note that he would want to read this right away. Thomas closed his eyes, dare he hope? He had given up hope of finding someone that shared his values, and his particular tastes. He took the last sheet off the fax and sat down at his desk, the more he read, the more his heart raced.

The next day, at lunch, Thomas went to the place she noted she favored for lunch, and he observed her. He found the reality of her much like the woman described on the papers he had received. She was sweet, unassuming and had a humble heart. She was exceedingly honest and unassuming, because she was more than she represented herself to be on the paper. He also noted with surprise that many of her reactions were genuine and childlike, he could see barely contained hurts, and joy that burst to be released over the simplest of things.Thomas’ heart squeezed in his chest, his eyes closed, and he resolved to reveal himself to her tomorrow. He got in his car and called Micah and asked him to please call Grace and let her know that Thomas would like to arrange a lunch meeting.

When Grace arrived home that evening, she had a message on her machine that Thomas had approved of her file, and would like to meet. The message went on to say that he would meet her for lunch one day the following week, in her favorite lunch spot, which was quite public. A very nervous excitement settled over Grace. And she went through the evening making plans on what to wear and what to say, because somehow she was sure that he would not make her wait long.

The Lunch Date (Erotica)

Grace stood in line at the counter of the bistro. This was her favorite lunchtime choice, with it's fresh menu and many vegetarian options. As she waited, she got the feeling that she was being watched, not in the casual looking-around-while-chewing-my-food kind of way, but in the way that meant she was the center of someone's attention. She turned inconspicuously to her left, and was met with nothing but the usual casual glances. She took a step forward in line, as she had advanced to one person from the order counter. Still uncomfortable, she glanced to her right, casually swept the patio full of  al fresco diners, suddenly, she saw him, a handsome, imposing gentleman, with a very commanding presence that rocked her back on her heels. Everything seemed to fade from the surroundings, only she and he remained, eyes locked.

Suddenly, an amused smile crossed his attentive face and settled comfortably on his lips. He raised his hand and twirled his index finger, indicating for her to turn. She started, turned, and became aware that the counter-person had had been calling, "Ma'am, can I help you? MA'AM, you're next." Her face blazed with an embarrassed blush, and she apologized profusely, and gave her order. She took her tray, and eyes down, walked towards an empty table, which as luck would have it, was behind the gentleman. As she approached his table he stood, and pulled a chair out for her, and across her path. Her heart began to race, and her mouth went dry. She looked up, only as far as his chest and spoke in a near whisper, indicating the rear table, "I, umm, I was..."

A deep, melodious, amused voice, spoke and seemed to pierce her to her core, "Please, sit, I hate to eat alone." Her hands shook as her tray was removed from her hands, and her meal spread on a thoughtfully spread napkin. The gesture was enough to make her blush deepen. he stepped behind her, and took the chair, touching it to the back of her knees, and she sat, as he placed her chair at the table. She was sure the beating of her heart was visible from across the table, and she clasped her hands so that their shaking could not be seen.

He, however, had noticed all the signs, including the slight tinge of adrenaline that mingled with the scent of her perfume. He extended his hand, palm up, on the table in her line of vision, and for reasons that were entirely unclear to her, she was compelled to place her hand on his. He smiled, closed his fingers over hers, and drew her hand to his lips. "Thomas, and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance." Something drew her eyes to his, and she met them from under her lashes, with a small gasp at the essence that rolled off of him in nearly palpable waves. "I'm...my name is Grace," she murmured. He smiled, lowering her hand and covering it with his other hand, "Quite lovely, as are you. Your name fits perfectly." Again her cheeks blazed with a blush, and she lowered her eyes. "Please, eat," he said and she could hear the smile in his voice. 

As they ate, his companionable conversation put her somewhat at ease, and her attraction was deepening in this attractive, commanding man. As they concluded their lunch, she found a peculiar melancholy creep over her that they would part ways, and hoped he might ask for her number. He stood and moved behind her to pull her chair out, as she rose, and he pushed the chair in, his arm around her waist, he spoke softly, "I would like you to come with me. You're free to say no, and wonder what could have been. Or come with me and explore passions you have only dreamed of." Her knees buckled and he handily caught her, and pulled her back against him to steady her, his lips brushed her hair, "Dare I take that as a yes?" She squeezed her eyes closed and nodded softly. She felt his lips curl in a smile against her cheek, and he said with quiet confidence, "Good," and helped her on with her jacket. He gathered up their plates, in one hand, and extended his arm to her. She glanced up at him shyly and looped her arm through his.

He escorted her to his car, opened the door, helped her inside, and closed the door, before circling the car and getting in himself. The ride was a blur, with her asking herself if she was mad to be going with this handsome stranger. When they arrived at their location, he dismounted, and came around, opened her door, and helped her out of the car, again offering his arm. She fought the urge to turn and run all the way to the door, knowing once on the other side it was too late. Inside, he helped her slip out of her jacket, turned and hung it on a hook, then turned and planted his hands on the the wall on either side of her head, lowering his lips to her neck, she gasped, and it turned to a low moan under his lips, then her knees buckled and she found herself drawn close to his body, by his arm around her waist, "Careful, little one, " he chuckled, "Come." He pushed them away from the wall and led her towards the bedroom. 

Entering the bedroom, he turned closed the door, and turned back to her. In a voice low and smooth as honey, he said, "Take your clothes off, please," as he circled her. Her eyes fluttered, her breath accelerated, ragged, in her chest, and her trembling fingers, she complied, though her brain was screaming that she was insane. When her clothes were removed he stepped behind her, placed his hands on her waist, pulled her back against him, placed his lips against her ear and whispered, "Good girl." Warmth spread through her at his praise, and the thought that she would do almost anything to gain that from him. He stepped back and took her hands, and placed them behind behind her head. He circled her appreciatively, running his hands over her bottom, her belly, her arms, her breasts, bending to run his hands down her legs. His eyes shone appreciatively, "Beautiful." She shook her head, and whispered, "I'm not." His hand drew back, and he swatted her firmly across her bottom. "You will not question or contradict me, is that understood?" Tears pricked her eyes, she nodded. He stroked her cheek, "Good girl." The tears that brimmed her eyes, spilled down her cheek, and he wiped them away.

He kissed her forehead, then brushed his lips across hers, then gently tilted her chin to his, bending his head till their eyes locked, "Beautiful," he said as he nodded, inviting her agreement. Her face blushed furiously, and whispered a barely audible, "Y-yes, Sir," without understanding why she used the honorific. He smiled and bent to her chest, kissing her breasts, circling the areola with his tongue, then flicking her nipples with his tongue, before drawing it into his mouth and sucking gently. She moaned and wobbled on her feet. He suckled her other nipple, then sucked his way down her belly, stopping short of her mound and looping his arm around her when her knees buckled again. He led her to the bed, his back to it, and facing her, her hands still laced behind her head he took note. He brushed her hair away from her face, "Mine," he breathed against her cheek, "and now I will claim what belongs to me. Don't you agree, little one? Do you want Daddy to show you how much he desires you?" She nodded, breathing rapidly. "Good girl," he crooned soothingly.

He sat on the bed and drew her across his lap, his hands firm on her bottom, kneaded and massaged, traced the curves of her cheeks and thighs. Then she felt a curious lack of sensation, until his hand connected solidly with her bottom and she jolted and gasped. He continued to spank, firmly, fast, he felt the initial fight or flight reaction of her body, and could almost feel the war to stay in position, then her body relaxed into what was happening. When he felt her reaching the levels of her endurance, he would stop and massage her gently, lean down whisper reassurance and pride in her ear, trace his fingers down her back, kiss her shoulders, hips, back. Then when she had calmed he would begin again. After once such pause, he drew her to him, and up onto his lap. He let her cry against his shoulder. When she was calmed, he whispered, "Go to the dresser, love, and bring me that paddle, and the flogger next to it." She drew in a sharp breath, but nodded, and began to rise, as his hand dipped between her thighs, and came away glistening. He smiled and she blushed.

She returned with the toys he had requested and he accepted them with a smile, and whispered, "Good girl, face down on the bed, please." She obeyed, and he glowed, his knowledge that he had chosen well growing by the moment. He rubbed the paddle gently across her bottom, then bounced it across her bottom before drawing it back and laying a firm stroke across her cheeks. She raised up momentarily, cried out, then pressed her head to the mattress, and pulled her arms tight under her chest, sobbing, "I'm sorry." He stroked her back gently, and bent to her cheek, kissed the tears away and whispered, "It's okay love, I know it hurts. I'm proud of you. You're taking your spanking very bravely. Just a bit more." She nodded. He kissed her cheek again, then her shoulder, then down her back, then he pressed his lips against her bottom before standing. He caressed her bottom then drew back and gave her a few more minutes with the paddle.

Laying it down, he whispered, "All done, such a good, brave girl." He picked up the flogger laid it against the skin of her back and dragged it from her shoulders to her ankles several times. She moaned under the sensuous feel. He began to rotate his wrists, and let the flogger fall in a gentle rhythm on her flesh. She started to drift on the rhythm and float away. When her skin was lightly rosy, except for the scarlet redness of her bottom, he laid the flogger down. He took the scented oil from the table next to the bed, squeezed some into his hand to warm it, and began to work the oil into her skin, from her shoulders to her ankles. He felt her turn to jelly beneath his hands and smiled, following his hands with a trail of kisses. Thomas stood and let his pants slide to the floor, then drew her to him, and against his body, as his hands roamed the front of her body, caressing, pinching, and pleasuring. He sank back into an overstuffed chair, and drew her down and over his member, she moaned and her limbs spread for him, her arms seeking behind her head for his own. He reached between her legs, and stroked her labia and clitoris as he stroked into her from behind and beneath. Their rhythm was sensuous and beautiful and the groan started building in her chest as the growl tore from his lips, and they rolled together far away from this room, on wave after wave of pleasure.

When they were exhausted, they lay panting against each other. Thomas lifted Grace and moved to the bed, laid down, and she scrambled from his side to laying her head on his chest, needing that closeness, and that connection. They drifted in pleasure drenched sleep for a while. When she woke, she looked up and saw that he was watching her. She smiled shyly, and lowered her head to his chest again. He chuckled, then lifted her chin till their eyes met, "What say you, little one? I feel Micah has made a good match, and in my mind, I have claimed you. I will leave this last choice to you. Will you be mine?" She blushed deeply, and her eyes welled with tears. His brow furrowed, "If the answer is no, then I will accept that." She shook her head furiously, and spoke in a soft voice,"You want me?" He smiled and pressed his lips to her forehead, "In my mind and my heart you are already mine, I need only your word." She smiled, lowered her eyes, then raised them to his and in a sure voice, said, "Yes, I am yours."

Correction and Gratitude

Here is a subject that makes me squirmy, and I don't like to talk about, and I don't like to receive, and immediately puts
me in little-space (can we have the 'Doom' song please?)
...correction. And I only bring it up because Daddy has made several posts on spankings, and we kind of just brushed over this aspect.







Daddy does not like the term punishment, it has a negative connotation, it is about retribution rather than transformation. It implies resentment and distance. Daddy prefers the term correction. Correction implies putting something back on the right course, to wipe clean the slate and start fresh. It means that Daddy does not collect resentment stamps about my mistakes, and I don't collect resentment stamps that he delivered on his responsibility in a consistent and diligent manner.




Some people assume that if spanking is used in other ways in the relationship, or the submissive enjoys being spanked that it cannot be used effectively as correction. And again, this is what works for us, every dynamic is different, your mileage may vary. Spanking as a form of correction works for us quite effectively. When Daddy sits me on his lap and says he thinks we need to talk about _____ (fill in the blank), I feel incredibly contrite, and I am acutely aware of how my actions have affected our relationship. The fact that my behavior has disappointed him is nearly crushing. The spanking will be harder, faster, longer and more painful. It will not be fun. It will not be something I want to do again (not the thing that brought on the spanking, nor certainly not the spanking).

So now everyone is saying, okay, so where and HOW does gratitude come in? Daddy loves me enough to pull me back from destructive behaviors. He loves me enough to give me what I need. He loves me enough to drive the change, even when it is difficult for him (and correction IS difficult for the D-type). He values our relationship enough to keep us on the course we have set. He loves me enough to offer forgiveness, and show me how to forgive myself. He values us enough to pull us back from distance to reconciliation.

Even though it is unpleasant to experience, it has to be acknowledged that correction is given with the intent of regaining and maintaining closeness, and of deepening the relationship. Correction is meant to break down walls and resistance and move us towards forgiveness, a deeper trust  and better communication.