My last post was Don’t Compare, We Don’t Fit Into Boxes. So I want to post the above and a little warning. I’m going to discuss the progress in our marriage as far as This Thing We Do (TTWD). Because of that, I don’t want anyone reading this and wishing or sighing that they don’t have that, wishing they did. First, we haven’t always had this, and I spent a LOT of time reading posts like this, crying that our marriage didn’t live up to that. I don’t want to do that to anyone else. So, my recommendation–don’t read this. And if you do, don’t take it to heart.
Why? Because we’re having a bad spell right now. Marriages have bad spells, ups and downs that have no rhyme or reason. Is it a really bad spell right now? No. Will it pass? Yes, definitely. But marriages do that. We have really great times to balance out the “Eh, who cares” times and the “Oh, fuck, do I even want to do this anymore” moments.
Second, we don’t have a clue what we’re doing. We’re winging it, and I’m only sharing highlights. As I said in my Don’t Compare post, I only become upset in our marriage, when I compare our marriage to the “rules and guidelines” or other marriages practicing TTWD. So, if you continue to read this, remember—We’re all living in 1865 and there are no blogs, rules or guidelines. We play or have fun with our spouse, not caring what we’re “supposed to do.” Do Not compare.
Last year I received a cane from a good friend for my birthday, and I swear it swung the door wide open for my husband. As I said before, I’ve always wanted this and he did too. I’m just not sure he wanted it as much as I did. He definitely didn’t want domestic discipline, he said that from the start. He didn’t mind spanking, per se as long as it was for fun, and because of my past as an abused child, he struggled with “hurting me.”
But when we received that cane–Good lord. All of a sudden it seemed that he was able to spank me and it wasn’t his hand, which made it okay. I’m not even sure he can put it into words, but he gets a glint in his eye walking toward me with that cane. He doesn’t hesitate to leap up and grab it. It hurts like hell. I now sympathize with characters being told that they cannot move. I just don’t see how that is even possible. It just makes your toes dance on the floor–at a minimum. He has said on more than one occasion, “Do I need to get your cane?” or “God, I love that after all these years I have something to make you jump and do as you’re told.”
We have fun, we spend a lot of time laughing and playing with our implements. We have increased to two canes, a paddle, a large paint paddle, back scratcher, riding crop and we just purchased a flicker whip crop. We still spend more time playing and being more D/s (kinda) than DD. Again, not that it effing matters—but apparently I think it matters because I still keep trying to fit us into the damnable boxes. :::::sigh::::::
Last July, right when we had decided to dive in with both feet, there was a Spanking Romance Round Table Discussion on Discipline vs. Punishment. The post that impressed me the most was Jolynn Raymond’s, Differentiating Between Punishment and Discipline.
She went into detail about punishments and rules that she has for the running of her house with her submissive. I’m guessing I’ve read it easy a dozen times since then. I often wonder how Jolynn would deal with this or that. And, on more than one occasion, I have come to the conclusion that I’d be a very sorry and sore girl in that household. I’d probably never be free of a clothespin on my tongue. And whenever I let the house cleaning chores slide, I think “Jolynn would have me picking up rice with tweezers.”
I sent the link to my husband and said, “Here, read this; it’s a great post. Feel free to pick some or make some up and surprise me.” Now, I know there will be MANY that will say “there she goes topping from the bottom.” It’s what works in our house. If I send him articles and say, “I love this and would be okay with some of this” or “what do you think?” we move forward. If that’s wrong, well so be it. It works for us.
And, thus, began the nightly ritual of rules. Now, we have crazy lives, and we do NOT do this every single night. It would be awesome if we did, but life gets in the way. We still have two twenty something college students living at home, he travels a TON or works a ton of overtime when he’s not traveling. All of that goofs things up. We cherish the weekends when they’re both off spending the night with friends.
Rule Number 1: No clothes can be worn to bed at all anymore. If it’s cold which it is January to April in New York, I’m allowed to wear a long sleeve top but no panties. I’m to take off all my clothes before I get ready for bed, so he may fondle and grope at will while I’m getting ready. I can’t get into the bed until I complete a “task” or until he gives me permission. These tasks are usually something sexual or humiliating. Again, life gets in the way. Some nights he’s crashing at 8:30 and I’m up until 2 am. It’s life–we adjust and have fun on other nights.
Rule Number 2: I am to sit on his lap when told and obey all similar commands. I know that seems pretty standard. But I’m not your standard kind of girl. I tend to say, “But I’m busy” or “Give me ten minutes.” It seems that I’m always crazy busy or writing, so …. yeah. Again, that damn cane has fixed that. (Most of the time.)
Rule Number 3: I am to display or expose any and all body parts, (including small and minute ones) when requested. He knows that my kink is humiliation. I hate it, but love remembering the act later. So when I’m told to bend over for inspection or show me your —-, I am to do it without whining or complaining, whether I’m in the living room, kitchen, or bedroom. I’m to trust that he will guard my privacy.
Rule Number 4: The dreaded rule of all rules, I was just told recently that I couldn’t use my toys, unless I asked for permission first. I almost died. Seriously? He has relaxed on that rule a little, but it was pretty stressful for a while there.
Rule Number 5: “You will not grab the cane out of my hand.” Blink Blink. Right? Seems to make sense. The problem is: When the pain hits a certain level, my reaction is to flip up onto my side and snatch the cane right out of his hand. Usually my response is, “Oh, no! Here. Sorry, sorry.” I’m desperately handing the cane back to him. I typically get four to five super hard cracks after that, but it is a reaction on my part. I just can’t seem to help it. Thankfully, he knows me and loves me. He laughs pretty hard every time, because I’m just as surprised as he is. So, if I feel that it’s happening, I ask for him to help me which means he is to hold me down. He doesn’t even need to hold my hands, I just need some help to fight the urge.
We don’t typically have punishment. Even when I break a rule, he’ll get the cane and I’ll have a pink and red striped bottom, but he stops before I end up in tears. But we did have two of them this past year. Many would not see them as punishment, but by our standards, they were.
1. We were in the car and I was driving. He said I was going to fast, I said I was fine. Our typical fussing. He kept pushing and finally frustrated that he wouldn’t stop I shouted, “Shut Up!” Now, it’s not out of the normal for me to say that when we’re joking and playing. But to really shout it at him in anger, isn’t normal. A friend thinks I did it to push him–I don’t think so. But anything is possible, I think I was just “in a mood” and reacted. His face turned red and he glared at me, eyebrows raised, jaw clenching. We didn’t speak the rest of the ride. I knew I was wrong, and knew I needed to apologize.
After we came home, with my heart racing, I walked up to him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled that at you. Whatever you decide to do, I’ll submit. Just let me know. I’m sorry.” He nodded and I turned, walking away. That night, after the kids left the house, he said, “Upstairs.”
He ordered me to strip, and to bend over the bed. He used the cane, no laughing, no lecturing. Just strike after strike of the cane, his hand holding me down. Right before I was ready to break down, he stopped and it was over. It was the first time that I really, truly understood that this can make the dominant feel better. I mean, I knew that he liked it and it brought out the primal man in him, but this was a cleaning of the slate, a righting of the wrongs done. Before this, it used to bother me when I heard women say, ‘sometimes he spanks me just so he can feel better.’ It didn’t sound right, almost abusive to me. But now it makes perfect sense.
2. He has an awesome job, and does some amazing stuff. One day, as I was writing, he said, ‘Hey go to YouTube, I want you to type something in.”
I thought it was going to be something silly. I said, “I’m busy. Not now.”
That was it. He didn’t push or say anything else. Two days later, while at work, he sent me a text with a link to YouTube of a project he had killed himself on with something so freaking amazing, I sat with my mouth open.
“This is what you wanted me to see on Saturday, isn’t it?”
I felt so awful. I teared up and cried in my cube. He rarely is able to share what he does, so for him to do this and for me to shut him down was unforgivable in my book. So, once again, I said, “I’m so sorry. I’ll submit to whatever punishment you decide to give me. I deserve it and more.”
He has come so far with this, he responded. “Yes, you do. We’ll talk about it later.”
Again, that night I was ordered to strip and told to bend over the bed. He grabbed the cane. He held me right from the beginning and lash after lash struck my bottom. That damn cane hurts so much. Unable to rock or dance on my toes, seemed to make it worse. Just as I felt my voice break and tears welling in my eyes, he stopped. I rolled over, grabbing my bottom. “I’m sorry.” He kissed my nose and said, “Bet the next time I ask you to look at something on the internet, you’ll listen.”
That was it. Over and done with. In the past, that situation would have hovered in the air–injured feelings on his part, and a guilty conscience on my part.
I spend a lot of time talking about how sassy I am and that I tend to do things to surprise him. I like it, and he does too. Once I stopped worrying about whether I fit into the box of submission, and just acted like Mrs. Michaels, life moved along nicely. I like to shock him with a sassy remark or deed. If he had a different personality and didn’t like it or became upset, I would stop instantly. But, he likes the sassy woman in the house, he married her because she made him laugh everyday. It wasn’t something he was used to as a child, he wanted to have a happy marriage. But overall, I have come a along way. When he walks into the room and says, “Pull your bra and shirt down so your tits are showing and write that way until I say.” I don’t argue or whine anymore–well most days. Or “Move your laptop, stand up and drop your pants.” I do it. I move the dogs out of the way and obey.
We’ve both grown in TTWD and are happy most days. Like I said he’s busy, doing way too much overtime, and I’m writing a TON, and we’re just grumpy and not ourselves lately. As of this posting (two days later), we are back to normal. The bump has passed. We play on the weekends, but I may have to find an evening to surprise him at the door with just an apron and a smile.