Category Archives: Health


I've been quiet for quite a while. Some of this is because life has gotten in the way. My health hasn't been great (although I've been happy to discover that part of the problem was anemia, and that's eased up by finding a better iron supplement), and there have been big non-disciplinary changes in my and W's lives.

But more than that, it's because discipline hasn't been happening, or has been happening in frustrating ways, or has been complicated in ways that I haven't been able to put into words. I've spent a lot of the past two years or so feeling rather inarticulate about many things.

I'm still rather inarticulate, but I've decided I'll go ahead and try to write something, because it's entirely possible that I will find words once I start writing.

W and I have been on hiatus with discipline off and on for nearly two years now. Contrary to my disciplinary fantasies, W does not take easily to being in charge. She struggles with it, and many of her own physical and mental health issues were getting in the way. On top of that, she didn't seem to be entirely clear about benefitting from this arrangement on her own behalf, and that was building up a lot of resentment for both of us. So, not quite two years ago, I asked to take a break until she was ready to be the one to re-initiate.

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Less A Woman

At some point in the last ten years, I began equating my femininity with my sexuality. I don't know when or how this happened. I suspect that Chris's concerted efforts at making me feel beautiful and sexy – often while we were doing something sexually arousing – contributed. But, in the end, the mental connection was one I made.

That was all well and good until sometime around Halloween, when gynecological issues (you may know more detail than that if you follow my twitter feed) interrupted* our sexual and spanking play. Increasingly as November went by and by, I felt more and more blue. It might have been, as some have experienced, a natural consequence of the month and season. But when December and Advent came, and my mood continued in a relatively consistent downward spiral, I started being my introspective self.

You'll notice I stopped blogging. It's because I knew what I wanted to say. I knew I wanted to say it. But I didn't know quite how. I didn't know quite how to say it without it seeming like it was Chris's fault. I couldn't quite write it down without a solution.  I couldn't imagine having to respond to the practical advice of just be patient to anyone more than my doctor and overly patient husband.  (BTW, phone call to the doctor next week, as soon as we're back in town again.) I'm still not sure I'm saying anything worth actually writing down.

You see, we weren't having sex. Or spanking. And so, you see, I felt increasingly … well, ugly. Unwanted. Unwomanly. Asexual. It didn't matter that we were being intimate occasionally. Chris does enjoy oral sex (seriously, I don't know any man who doesn't) and he was able to stimulate me to orgasm, though less so as December dragged on and on and on, and my blue-ness and depression sort of worsened.

When it came time to pack for vacation, I wasn't really excited. And I'm afraid my lack of enthusiasm for much of anything contributed to the problem – why would Chris want to be intimate with me when I must have been patently uninterested? To be sure, I was uninterested in anything:  paying attention to him, working consistently, doing housework, cooking, shopping, going to Animal Kingdom and Hollywood Studios…  And I knew why. I just couldn't do anything about it. 

As the weeks passed, and the relationship between my sexuality and my femininity crystallized. I knew what was missing quite keenly (sex, spanking, kink, naked intimacy, hormonal balance, etc) and there I was, making an effort to put a facade on for the world that Christmas was coming and that everything was cheery and glorious.

Chris and I had proper sex for the first time in nearly two months on Christmas night. It was in a strange bed, in a different state, and I was so relieved I almost cried. It'd been so long that we had to think even about the position, and clearly Chris's wrist is out of shape. Boxing Day saw a repeat. Monday was a lost cause – the 20 hours spent fighting airports and airplanes and traveling was a loss – despite the best of plans I was just happy to collapse onto my own pillow last night and Chris was already snoring.

He woke me up at 5:30 this morning to fuck my ass.

I think that might have been the best Christmas present yet.

I realized this morning that, despite a vicious cold virus, I feel almost whole again. I haven't been spanked yet (staying with family and all) though we have plans to do that in a bit when the princess is off on a playdate. It promises to be a significantly painful event, made more so by my near-virgin bottom, his itchy palm and my recent acknowledgment that a significant spanking (and other bottom-related attention-getting activities) would help balance me.

So now I am wondering how I can break this sad link I have made in my head. Clearly I am a woman, whether I am celibate or sexually active. But feeling like I am not one – or less of one than I ought to be – is clearly getting in the way of my productivity, cheerfulness and wifely compatibility.




* According to WordPress, I spelled femininity, interrupted, and gynecological all right on the first try! Whee! I even checked to be sure spell check was on!

In Sickness & In Health

Goodness, it's been a while for me, hasn't it?

The reason it's been so long is that I've been delightfully good and obscenely responsible.  No really, it's true.

Or it could be I've been remiss about a lot of things including blogging.  Lately though, spanking's been on my mind and I've been writing on my personal blog.   Paul and I have been having adventures, including a trip to Vegas for Shadow Lane.  This meant, among other things, that I got to spend time with fellow PB writers, Bridget and Iris (& M too).

Needless to say, this made me think about a lot of spanking and PB related things.

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Moving Back to Normal

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.

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Bedtime Blues

For the first time in our four and half year relationship, A. is enforcing a bedtime for me.

Both he and I have generally been night owls, appreciating a certain level of creative energy that comes in the wee hours. Long ago I used to be a morning person, but since my illness has reeked havoc with my circadian rhythm, I’ve been a I’ll-go-to-sleep-whenever-I’m-damn-well-tired-enough-to-and-
wake-up-whenever-I-damn-well-wake-up sort of person.

However, since being diagnosed with and beginning treatment for hypothyroidism at the end of August, my circadian rhythm has settled down into some regularity. By midnight I start getting pretty sleepy and if I stay up much later, I’m barely able to drag myself into the bathroom to brush my teeth, floss, pee, etc. And for the next two days I’ll be groggy regardless of how late I slept in.

But, well, despite how much sense it makes to go to bed at midnight, I’d never quite make it there before 1 or 2 or even 3 am. I mean, I’ve been going to bed in the am for years now, so I just don’t think about getting ready for bed at, say, 11 pm.

Well, I do now.

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Knock On Wood

Some months my hormones rage. I tend to rage with them. It’s not every month, nor reliably on the 26th day or two days before I start bleeding. It just happens sometimes and at different intensities.

Last month, at about day five of my menstrual cycle I thought to myself, “Oh wow! Hey, I didn’t have PMS.” I mentioned it to Chris and he agreed that it really had been a smooth month.

We should have knocked on wood.

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Health & Safety Issues – Part II

(Read the previous post first if you want the back-story)

OK. Full tummy and some time off of my sore butt and now I’m ready to continue. 🙂 I’m sitting on two pillows as I write this but it still hurts. *sigh*

So, I got to Dave’s and he was still in the shower. I was all nervous and having trouble looking at him when he got out of the shower and greeted me. I did spill that I had something else to tell him but that DH told me I shouldn’t tell him until after. He guessed right away why that was, which I thought was sort of eerie — do they ALL think alike? He says, "It’s so ridiculous that he figures it’s going to require a separate punishment?"  I just blushed. "Well, we’re going to follow his lead. He’s got more experience than both of us, and he knows what the big secret is. If he told you to wait on telling me then you’re going to wait."

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Health & Safety Issues

Dave has started a new job where he will be travelling a lot – 3 or 4 days a week – and it put me into panic mode, in some ways. I always feel somewhat at odds in this relationship — wanting to be the strong, loving life-partner that is there to be his rock; wanting to be allowed to make mistakes and have the little girl in me taken care of and taken in hand. He’s been on vacation with his family, and then on a business trip, and in the time that he was away I had a major medical emergency (well, semi-major) that was very scary to me.

My asthma, which is normally not a big deal at all, got really bad and stayed bad for over a week. By the time I ended up up in the hospital, my inhaler wasn’t working at all. I realized when I took it out to clean it off on Friday, after my doctor’s office was already closed, that the damn thing was expired and had been for almost a year. I had no refills (again, the asthma isn’t a *problem* normally – so I haven’t brought it up at a doctor’s visit for quite some time) at any of the pharmacies around town and my doctor wasn’t calling me back. An ER visit occurred on Saturday where it turned out I had a nasty case of bronchitis, needed steroids, a breathing treatment, a new inhaler, and antibiotics. Dave saw me through all of this over the phone, because he was out of town, and he never scolded or lectured about the expired inhaler. He could tell I was scared to death as it was.

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Pushing it

Today I got the first disciplinary spanking in almost a year.

Part of the reason it's been so long is because I've been struggling with my punishment kink. I've been meaning to write about my struggles in their messy, raw form but I think by the time I get around to writing about it, I will have some more coherent thoughts.

But mostly it's because I've been struggling with illness, something I mentioned in my last post on this blog in January, that got a lot worse at the end of May when I ended up with blood clots in my lungs and was promptly placed on anticoagulants for the rest of my life. After a chat with the hematologist, A. and I have discovered that there are still spankings to be had while on blood thinners. But our experimenting has just been play. No discipline.

Until today.

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Memori-able Weekend

I haven't had much in the way of serious punishment spankings lately–for that matter, I haven't had much in the way of any punishment spankings lately.  It was really busy with graduation (family around constantly) and as I noted in a recent comment-on-a-post, I've been feeling prickly about discipline in the last month or so.  I really haven't wanted the vulnerability, so I've kept discipline at arm's length.  And M has been very good about respecting that (not that he had much choice, I suppose).

And then there was last weekend.

I was out in LA visiting, getting a few last things set up before I move out there at the end of the month, but mostly it was a relaxing weekend for the two of us to reconnect.  We haven't had much "us" time recently, and both missed it.  So it was pretty low-key.  And over the course of the weekend I found my smart mouth reasserting itself, my brat side making itself known, and even felt the beginning of a glimmer of a desire to play.  Not, you'll notice, a desire to be punished.  Just a desire to play.  But M's patience can only last so long, and by Tuesday it was at an end.  I was also feeling my oats a little because I hadn't been seriously spanked in so long–this is to explain the otherwise inexplicable lapse in judgment you're about to witness.

We were getting ready on Tuesday morning, him to go to work and me to go running down by the beach.  I was a little tired and perhaps grumpy (? honestly, I have no idea what my problem was) and as he was holding the door open for me to leave, I made some really snippy remark.  Not unkind, I don't think–more in the neighborhood of bratty.  He stopped dead in his tracks and gave me the Look like I haven't seen in weeks.  Which probably should have been my first clue.  However, I was still in my own insulated world and ignored him.  What I did, in fact, was look him straight in the eye as I put on my iPod lanyard and say, "Yeah, like you have the time or inclination to do anything about that right now."

Gulp.  This has to rank as one of the all-time stupidest possible things to say to one's disciplinarian.  Only I really didn't believe he was going to do anything about it right then, because he was running late and I'd been able to um, distract him from spanking me for something else earlier in the weekend.

His eyes sparked fire something fierce, he shut the door calmly, took off my iPod, grabbed my hand, and pulled me into the bedroom.  All this time I was, of course, backtracking like crazy, babbling things like, "You're going to be late!  You don't have time!  I didn't mean it!  What are you doing?  You don't have time for this!"  He pulled several nasty things from the toy bag, shucked down my shorts and panties, and tossed me over his knee.  M's usually a pretty methodical, unruffle-able spanker, but this time he gave me no scolding, no warm up, and no breaks.  Yikes!  He started off with what we call the "quiet" hairbrush, so named because it actually makes relatively little noise on impact.  It's small and MEAN (very dense wood) and it was not a fun beginning.  After spanking me for far too long with that, he switched to the leather paddle, then moved to his hand, then paused to make really sure I understood why I was getting spanked and what exactly I could do to avoid a repeat in the near future.  By this time I was willing to avoid a repeat in any future, near or far, so he seemed satisfied with my answers.  And then he got out the two meanest wooden paddles we own and gave me about ten with each!  I was more than sore and sorry by that point, but he pulled me off his lap, gave me a hard hug, and pushed me into the corner, still with shorts and panties around my ankles.

This was a different kind of spanking for a couple reasons: one, M almost never spanks me when he's actually irritated or angry with me, and two, I rarely get put in the corner after a spanking.  Cornertime doesn't get used a whole lot, mostly if he wants to make sure I'm really contrite when he puts me over his knee, and after a spanking it's bordering on unheard-of.  So I knew he was pretty irritated.  I didn't have to stay there long, because he was still late for work, but I didn't get as much snuggling and petting as I usually get either.  Sigh.

This wasn't my favorite kind of spanking (at all), but I figured it sort of broke a barrier between us that had been slowly building for a few weeks.  And I had been a gigantic brat.  By Wednesday morning I was feeling downright chipper.  M and I were back on track, I was figuring things out for the move, I woke up early to go for a run, came back and took a cool shower: life was good.  When I went into the bedroom, naked and still damp from my shower, I was surprised to see M up and dressed.  His mouth was full of mouthwash, but he kissed me anyway and I giggled.  As I walked past him to get some clothes he grabbed my hand to get my attention, reached over into the toy bag, pulled out a hairbrush, and gestured for me to wait.  I honestly couldn't figure out what was going on, since I'd done nothing wrong, so I waited patiently while he spit out the mouthwash.  But when he came back in, sat on the corner of the bed, picked up the hairbrush, and patted his knee, I got suspicious.  "What?" I said.  "What are you doing?"  Suddenly stern, he said, "Did you write down the things in your calendar like we talked about?"

Oh shit.  See, I have these migraine things that come every once in a while.  They're not headaches, they're more like mini-seizures.  They're very well-contained and I haven't even had one in five or six months, but I'd had one on Sunday/Monday.  Ever since I started having them doctors have been telling me to track them so I have a sense of the severity, course, and any patterns.  Well, I know all about the patterns and I have a pretty good idea of when the last one was; if I start having them every 4 hours again, I'll see someone.  Otherwise, there's not much to be done.  Stupid me, I'd casually mentioned to M that I should probably jot the recent ones down and he took that seriously and told me that he'd hairbrush me if I didn't. 

But there were mitigating circumstances, honest!  I didn't have my calendar with me (had left it in MN) and he knew that.  Unfortunately, he had also decreed that I should write it down somewhere else and then transfer the info when I got home.  And I had promptly forgotten.  Completely, blissfully forgotten.  Sigh.  So I got hairbrushed.  Harder than I wanted, on an already sore bottom, and in the middle of what had started off as a perfectly lovely morning.

I know there's another, better reason to celebrate Memorial Day weekend, but somehow I think this one may rank up there in our personal history. 

Oh, and I transferred the data into my calendar this morning.