I wish this were a party report about how much fun I had a the Shadow Lane party this weekend. Or the start of a discussion about how difficult long-distance discipline can be — something I promised a new friend the other day. It isn’t though.
Instead, yesterday after he’d driven us home from Vegas and returned the rental car, Pablo told me (before spanking me good night hard enough to bring tears to my eyes) that when he got home from a meeting today he was going to wallop me.
You can decide for yourselves. (Apologies for intruding, but I couldn’t add this in the comments, where it belongs. – Paul)
Yesterday was one of those days.
You know what I mean? I was feeling a bit unsettled and possibly (though of course I’m not entirely sure) may have come off as a bit cranky and naughty. There was no reason for this. I’d had a good night’s sleep, didn’t need to go into my job, my research and writing had been going well. And yet, well, I wanted something cool to happen. I’m not sure what, but I was sure I’d know it when I saw it, if you can understand.
Pablo was home for the day and had some (boring) errands to run. They weren’t what I wanted to do (though getting coffee for me ended up being one of them and that was definitely something I wanted and needed), but seemed better than nothing. So I went with him to the post office and Staples and the like.
I got playfully accused of being a "little bit clingy" which, since it was true, did nothing to improve my mood. Nor did knowing I needed to find a lift to Vegas for the Shadow Lane party next weekend, unless I wanted to miss the first night vendors’ fair. I hate asking for favors and at this point, I hadn’t heard back yet from any of the feelers I’d sent out.
"Feelers," well actually, that’s just my word for begging.
And then we came home and I was supposed to get down to my writing.
The last couple of months have been weird as far as discipline goes. I’ve been spanked here and there, sporadically, for various things. But, there hasn’t been much consistency and that’s due to a LOT of different things — illnesses, vacations, frustration. What usually happens with me didn’t fail to happen this time. I got completely out of control, sank into a depression, and felt like the only way to get out of this was to start enforcing some structure and discipline. Fortunately, I have a man who agrees.
I haven’t been around much since the holidays. Pablo and I were in the
UK (which was great fun though very cold) and then when I got back I
had some computer problems which seem to be mostly resolved.
of the time in the UK was spent seeing family (and happily some friends
too). But we did have some time alone and some privacy too. Much more
privacy than we had at home, thanks to the generosity of some dear (and
delightfully kinky) friends who loaned us their fantastic home while
they were away.
To mark both our anniversary (December 29) and
the start of a new year Pablo and I talked about what we wanted to do
for the coming year. Um, in terms of me and my goals. Obviously
looking after me isn’t a full time job.
No really, it isn’t.
I haven’t felt really little in ages. RL punishment just hasn’t been a part of our relationship for a long time. But I think that’s changing. It’s weird how something so gentle and loving can regress me so much in age.
It’s my job to clean the house. That’s fair enough. And Q is usually pretty understanding. It’s a big house, after all, and at least he’s not a neat freak. But it’s nice to sweep the dead things out of the corners once in a while. The kitchen is the only area he comes down on me about. He says it’s a hygiene issue. Hygiene, shmygiene. I’m not that fussed, to be honest. I mean, I don’t understand why the floor needs to be clean enough to eat off it. Even if it IS that clean, I’m not eating off it. And anything that gets dropped on it goes straight in the bin. **sigh**