Monthly Archives: October 2009

Maintenance Fail…

I can't remember the last time I was actually punished for something. Honestly.

It's not that I'm perfect, but that I'm not spanked for being imperfect. We're all imperfect. So fouling up Chris's lunch or forgetting to get the car washed or not doing the laundry do not garner punishments. Chris gets serious if it affects the family's health, the family's safety or putting shredded paper in the canister without bagging it first. Otherwise, he's just as likely to indulge me as not.

I'm perfectly happy with that.

The thing is, discipline – punishment – has been part of my quirky head for as long as I've had it. A variety of fantasies have provided me with dream fodder for decades now, and I'm not ashamed to say that in the days that preceded a real, live disciplinary agreement, the whole notion of being punished was a lot more rosy than reality. In my dreams, I'd misbehave a lot more and get spanked a lot. In reality, I misbehave very little and get spanked a lot.

So for a few months now, I've been pondering … and I think I have to conclude that mock punishments and maintenance ('just because') spankings are no longer enough of a substitute for discipline. And, I have to say, I'm not entirely happy about that. It doesn't seem quite right that I should be jonesing for punishment, simply to satisfy some sulky petulant corner of my brain. It doesn't seem fair to me or to Chris, and as really pushing his buttons means needlessly endangering someone or something, it really isn't fair to our home and family.

Add in 4-6 days of enforced neglect from regular reinforcing intimacy and I have been ripe for challenging Chris in the last two evenings.

So last night I took our daughter's 50-cent disk shooter off the bureau, where I'd left it after confiscating it from her, and shot it just past his head. It hit the wall behind him, but he did stop talking mid-sentence, grabbed me, and dragged me over his knee for 5 minutes of hard spanking. I remember dimly hearing the words "You're asking for it, aren't you?" I don't really remember answering.

Tonight, after he studiously and deliberately ignored my three hints that he might want to do the dishes, I took an ice cube from the freezer and put it in the back of his shirt. I'm sure I had a good reason – maybe to get him to pay attention, as he kept ignoring me. Or maybe to get him to pay attention to me? In any event, when he very clearly told me to remove it from the back of his shirt and said he'd had enough, I did remove it.

And then pushed it down his pants so it slipped between his ass cheeks.

Of course I got spanked for it, later. When the princess was asleep and the house quiet, there was a paddle and a strap. Perhaps the playfulness of it all has gotten to me too, because I didn't have to fight off any guilt. Pain, yes. Guilt, no. Not even much repentance, honestly.

I've never really been a brat. I doubt I've bratted like this since well before the princess was born. Even Chris asked me what had gotten into me. I'm worried that I'm trying yet a new way to get what I want from him on a nearly constant basis – his dedicated, focused, energized attention.

I suppose this is one of the problems of taking a fetish and turning it into a working, living relationship. There's no question that discipline helped me master the concept of locking the doors to our house, or taking care in the sun. I'm more careful about what I do with a cell phone in the car, too. There's also little question that I pursued a disciplinary arrangement with Chris because I thought it would help me prioritize his needs and desires more, and I think that it still mostly has that effect. But I can't and won't deny that I also found the whole concept of a disciplinary relationship sizzling hot. It pushes nearly every power-exchange fantasy in my head and feeds my sexuality with instantaneous arousal.

I'm afraid that spanking me 'just because' isn't a preventing sort of
spanking anymore. But if it doesn't work, what will stop me from
pushing again and again and again?

Starting Over … Again

Well, the prodigal blogger has returned — for now anyway. After getting an email about updates to the site, I felt *really* guilty about not even checking in in – what? – two years? Holy crap.

So much has changed. After four years together, Dave and I called it quits for good on June 15, 2008. It's been 16 months, and writing that sentence made me cry. So, I'm not really dealing well with it, obviously. The short-story is that he doesn't ever want to be a husband or a father, and there's nothing in the world I want more than to be a mom, so it was an impass neither of us could see over. The long story is probably much more convoluted, and something I completely blame myself for. I became a different person than the one he fell in love with, and I wasn't snapping back.

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Tears at Bedtime

What Happened: I got spanked at bedtime last night.  It wasn’t especially hard (a bare-bottom, over the knee hand spanking) but it included scolding (I had stayed up later than I was supposed to, even after being reminded to go to bed) and went on long enough to hurt.  Not a lot, not like a hairbrushing, but enough so I started feeling very sorry (okay, mostly for myself rather than my actions) and telling, then begging Paul to stop.

sailor-suitThat doesn’t work.  As I was reminded, I don’t get to decide, just as it wasn’t for me to decide that I didn’t want this spanking.  I hadn’t wanted it either — by the time he took me otk, I was tired, even over-tired, and wanted to go sleep.  Plus it was late enough and quiet enough that I thought the spanking could be heard from the street.  Our window, you see, was open because I hadn’t expected this.

Then it happened, and not for the first time. My whiny frustration at not being able to get away, at the spanking that continued and I wanted stopped, at not ever feeling like there was enough time for anything rushed together with the frustrations of the day and guilt at being scolded and for ignoring Paul, I burst into racking sobs.

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Course Corrections

My Master is going to beat me.  I don't know exactly when, and I am
not even 100% clear as to why. Yet, it has become clear to both of us
that this is what is going to happen. We both need to clear the air.

I'm terrified. I haven't been seriously beaten in a very. long. time. 

It makes sense, our dynamic has more or less taken a backseat to the
events of the last couple of years. First, Master and CC were changing
and having issues and most of the focus was there. Then, they were
splitting and the focus was there. It's really been at least two years
since we've been focused on each other and our dynamic in any real way.

For a highly dramatic and whiny account of the unraveling of our poly family you can read backwards on my personal blog. For the purposes of this post, it's enough to know that CC has decided to go her own way, and the last year has been spent largely on this change in family status.

are a lot of things that are different now. I am not sure we will ever
be back to that "pure" Master and slave dynamic we had in years past,
but it's certainly a goal of ours. Running a household and supporting
each other through a painful breakup has changed things in ways neither
of us would have guessed.  It put a huge amount of stress on each of us
individually and on our relationship. There have been moments when I
was not at all sure we were going to make it together.

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Blast from the past

I've been sick in bed for the last few days, which isn't fun at the best of times, but is particularly unfun when one is pregnant at the same time.  Not only is the list of approved medications limited, it's difficult to get comfortable with a bowling ball strapped to one's middle.  But I digress.  At one point last night, I was starting to feel a little bored (always a good sign), so I dug out old journals and settled in to read.

These are journals from late college and early adulthood, maybe 7-10 years ago.  In other words, just the period of time when I was figuring out my kink and coming to terms with it.  I was surprised (and sometimes amused) to read what I wrote and thought some of it might be interesting here.

This is the first entry where I addressed the issue head on, though there are other places where I alluded to it and even (bravely!) wrote the word spank in black and white.  But this entry comes about 10 months after breaking up with my college boyfriend, the first man I ever played with.  Also, bear in mind that this was from the very early days of internet (at least for me), so I had yet to find much of a real community or have any real conversation with anyone about the subject.

What is this obsession that drives me sexually?  Where on earth did it come from?  A year ago, I might have added: why me?

I am a spankophile.  I crave dominant men who will spank me sexually, spank me when I misbehave, and love this raw, unbidden part of my soul.  I want to brat my way into trouble and know that someone is there to enforce boundaries and love me no matter what.

When I first realized that this was sexual for me, I shied away, scared of what it meant.  Later, as I began to explore it and even share it with E [college boyfriend] I was embarrassed and shy about my desire while needing it nonetheless.  Now, while I would still never share the secret with anyone but the most intimate, I embrace it.  It gives me a deep, rich, dark, silty facet, a branch of my soul and being that only two people in this whole world know about and only one understands.  E never quite got it, but for a vanilla he certainly converted pretty well.

One of the most complicated parts about my spankophilia is the lack of control.  I want to submit, yet I have to find the right person to give that gift.  Someone I trust completely, who would never abuse the gift.  At the same time, though, there are men who look at me and make my insides liquid and make me want to obey.  K is that way sometimes–I can feel sparks fly when he's around because the air is so charged.  T's eyes do that too.  They pierce me and I feel like one stern look from him could make me come on the spot.  …

But could I honestly sleep with either one of them?  No matter how much chemistry I wonder if there wouldn't be something to hold me back.  And that's only sex.  My deepest darkest fantasy is unthinkable until much after sex.

I find it interesting to see which elements are still the same for me and which have changed.  Obviously I no longer see spanking as something that must come "much after sex."  Grin.  That would make spanking parties tricky–or perhaps just more active.  And I'm not as secretive or selective about sharing this part of my identity.  I don't flaunt it (my profession and other relationships don't quite allow for that), but I'm more open about it with vanilla friends who are safe.  And I've found that the more open I am, the more I find like-minded people.

Still, there are more similarities than differences.  Though I had yet to experience a relationship with spanking at the core, my statements of identity and desire are still very true.  I do want a dominant man to spank me sexually and spank me for punishment.  I had no idea about the complexities of incorporating punishment into a long-term relationship when I wrote that, but those words are still at the heart of my kink.

It's also interesting for me to look back at the process of my becoming who I am today.  Sometimes I forget how hard-fought each step was.  But this entry was monumental: I was acknowledging the truth to myself in ink and I was no longer ashamed of it.  I also see elements of what was to be, in terms of noticing other dominant-type men around me and acknowledging my reaction to them.  Seeds of what was to come…

Technologies of Punishment: Mija’s Electronic Leash

igroundedTechnologies of Punishment –isn’t that a great title? I can’t claim any originality since it’s inspired by a CFP (that’s “Call For Papers” in the larger world) for a CUNY conference titled “The Poetics of Pain: Aesthetics, Ideology, and Representation” sent to my academic self. (I blogged this startle on el tercer ojo.) But it is an appropriate title. Given that we met via the wonders of usenet, technology, for better or worse, has been involved in Paul and my relationship, discipline and punishment included, since the beginning. Although some of the technology thankfully went away when our relationship went from long-distance to living-in-the-same-house, technology remains a significant part of both of our lives.

This is not going to be a discussion of how technology can assist those in long-distance relationships at “this thing we do.” While it doesn’t seem so long ago that most of my punishments were done via email or phone, really it’s been more than seven years since Paul moved here, give or take an interruption or two. I think that counts as several lifetimes in the word of technology. Because of that, this probably isn’t the right entry for anyone looking for long-distance discipline ideas. (Natty can probably give plenty of thoughts on that subject, but rumor has it she’s a bit busy at present.) That said, ever since I got a new MacBook compete with webcam, I check in terror to make sure the green camera light isn’t on every time Paul has me bent over my desk chair for a quick slippering to “focus” me on my work. This is crazy because I never actually use the webcam for anything so it’s never on. **

Even though phones, webcams and Skype aren’t part of discipline or punishment scenes and we’re not long-distance anymore, technology in various forms plays an important role in our relationship. A role, which for me, has lately made me feel watched over in ways that, frankly, push a lot of good and powerful buttons. What works, both in the senses of being effective and attractive, is feeling I’m being watched over and held to specific expectations. The idea is that I’m seen –inside and out– by someone who can’t be fooled and holds me to account. That’s both the fantasy and the ideal.

Not much to ask, is it?


It’s a huge amount to ask of anyone and a near impossible task, especially with regard to me specifically. Yet I have asked for it and Paul and I have tried various ways of fulfilling this need / desire. Repeatedly, over a period of years.

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Love Our Lurkers IV

keyholeBeloved and community minded Bonnie, over at My Bottom Smarts gives us a chance each year to remember we’re not talking to ourselves — that you’re here reading too. And we all know that for every comment to the blog, there are hundreds of visitors who don’t comment. We know you’re there and it’s always good to know there are readers, whether you choose to comment or not.  Yet it’s so much more fun to write for a blog where there’s lively discussion.

I know this blog has been quiet lately. This is partly due to many of us blogging elsewhere (see the list of our other blogs over to the right). It’s also due to the PB blog having become less of a place to discuss the idea of punishment in a relationships and more of a place to record actual punishments received.  (Believe it or not, that we’d record our punishments here never occurred to me when we were first building the blog.)  Since most of us aren’t punished very often, there ends up being long gaps between entries. Add to that my neglect in not realizing sooner that postings here were tapering off.

And yet you’re still reading here — even when the PB goes weeks and even months without new entries, our stats tell us that hundreds of people visit every day. So this is what I want to ask of you today — keeping in mind the style of the blog (that is, this isn’t going to suddenly become a place full of pictures of spanked bottoms, lovely though they might be and that we can’t write about punishments that aren’t happening — give us some thoughts about what you’d like to find when you come here. What discussions would be useful or interesting?

Thank you in advance for your ideas. And as always, thank you for reading.