So, on my personal blog I told the scary tale of bad bad buggery that made me very sick for a few weeks. For the first couple of those weeks I was too sick to do anything remotely naughty. But after awhile, I found myself feeling very cranky. My inner ten-year old had had just about enough of the whole staying in bed thing. Trouble was, I still wasn’t healthy enough to really get out of bed much. Which just made me crankier, and yet, really wanting a spanking.
Most of you are familiar with that feeling of being annoyed by just about everything and wanting to bitch about it all (and maybe even doing so) but when all is said and done, you’d really rather just get a nice, long spanking — though you’d probably be irritated if it was offered (or told that’s what you were getting).
I was feeling that big time.
Or at least we're getting back to whatever passes for normal in our house.
In early December I had abdominal surgery that required longish incisions on my stomach. The recovery was painful — more-so then I expected — despite some really really good drugs*. The surgeon had to cut through and reconnect muscle and resew my skin together. I was uncomfortable and needed (and got) a great deal of TLC while I was healing.
In many respects recovery wasn't fun, though I did get some really nice gifts and cards from friends and family. However, my healing did function as a "Get out of spanking free" card. Oh and a get out of research and writing too.
Apparently, that card has been played for the last time this month.
I've been debating about whether or not to write this post for several weeks, but I've decided that I think it could be both really good for conversation and really good for me to write out. So here it is.
After more than two years of being in a relationship that included discipline, I now find myself without it. Without discipline and without the relationship, that is. (And actually, I moved into my relationship with M from another one that incorporated discipline, so I guess that means it's been about three and a half years since I've been on my own in that sense.) Aside from the normal gut-wrenching, soul-piercing pain that accompanies any break up, I'm also dealing with the loss of any practical
application of discipline in my life. At this point I'm still dealing with a lot of the initial grief and the loss of discipline feels kind of minor. But it's starting to raise its head in small ways.
Prompted by an overheard phone conversation at Shadow Lane's fall 2006 party.
Okay, so part of what's triggering this entry my classic anxiety about what Pablo could possibly get out of the disciplinary end of our relationship. I mean, it seems to me like work he's having to do keeping me from drifting off onto circular or self-destructive paths. When we've talked about it before he's generally made a bit of a joke in his dry English way, answering that what he gets out of it is "a quiet life."
It's a cute comment but didn't really tell me much. Not what this bit of eavesdropping and subsequent conversation (with me, not eavesdropping) did.
So I’m en route from Minnesota to California, currently in the great state of Utah. Even though my mom and I are mostly occupied with talking to each other, listening to Harry Potter on tape, and seeing lots of beautiful scenery, I still have a bunch of time to think. And I’ve been thinking. Lately, I’ve been thinking about the difference between punishments that are the you-earned-this kind and punishments that are the you-are-NEVER-going-to-do-this-again kind.
I didn’t expect to have a punishment to write about quite so soon. But I do. (Part of me wondered whether it was because W. wanted me to have something to post about, but she says not. She says it’s not even because of my post on my own blog yesterday, but I know she read it, so I’ve got a few doubts.)
Yesterday was a difficult day for me. In part, it’s because I’ve been having a lot of difficult days lately. And in part, it’s because I had therapy; while therapy is good, it also takes a lot out of me, and leaves me a bit (in the sense where “a bit” means “over 90%”) dissociated. Which is to say, by the time W. got home, I was rather on edge.
But I was managing. W. had given me a totally unexpected “good girl” spanking Wednesday night, and in addition to that, the effects of my Sunday night spanking had only just worn off. So I thought I was in a place where I could make it through the rest of the week.
However… I was also coping with a small part of my brain that was feeling hurt and resentful that W. has had to work such long hours recently. Rationally, I know perfectly well that it’s necessary, and it’s how we pay the bills, and it’s how she’s doing such a great job at work. But this little kid voice inside of me was letting me know that it feels (um, I guess I feel, even though I *swear* it feels separate from me!) a bit lonely and, well, not taken care of. And I guess it was showing, even though I
didn’t think it was.
So after dinner was over, W. said, “I guess you didn’t think I noticed when you painted the wardrobe, so you did it again. I guess you’re telling me you didn’t get the response you wanted. I think I need to spank you for that.”
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.
There are punishment spankings and there are discussion spankings. Last Saturday was a bit of both.
The former type, punishment spankings, are fairly self-explanatory. I do something naughty, I get punished with a spanking.
The second type are a bit more difficult to describe. When I asked A. what he would call them, he blurted out “Daddy Spankings.” Why? “Because it’s where I help you figure out what you’re going to do and give you structure.” But, of course, punishment spankings would fall into that category too. Then he joked about them being “Daddy Bush Spankings” because there is an element of pre-emption to them. Yet, we both conceded that it was more than just keeping me from doing something bad. They are more about focusing my mind on the task or tasks ahead. I also find that they give attention to that little girl part of me – the “Natty” part if you will – so that she won’t be trying to distract me from what I need to focus on.
Usually we just refer to them as a discussion about my schedule which, of course, includes time across his knee.