demure on the outside…

Your silent instruction with one firm motion as Your finger points to the ground, “Here slave”.  Obedient to Your command a tingling washes over knowing, or at least hoping, what was about to happen as excitement courses through to its very core 

With its cheek to the floor eyes gently closed shut assuming its position, it feels a soft caress upon its skin. This belongs to Me, doesn’t it? Yes Sir. it was made for Me, wasn’t it? Yes Sir, only You. Good girl

A quietness fills the room it can barely hear the soft sounds of jazz carried out from The Master’s office now. So focused on His sensual touch while He runs a sole finger teasingly within His wetness, pleasingly tugging at His hardware as it dreams of what’s coming next

it begins to fantasize of the new mods to come and as its mind drifts, suddenly it’s brought back to the moment with the subtle sounds of Masters clothing being shed
Suddenly the warmth of His skin is around its backside, He pulls on His toy that He placed inside hours before, removing it now for His intended pleasure
it can hardly contain itself  with its body begging to be taken. Barely above a whisper, “it loves to be fucked by You Master”
Both exhausted from the encounters of the previous night, no more words were spoken only the exciting rumblings of sheer delight in anticipation
Heat penetrating more from merely the wood stove knowing His property impeccably well, Master strategically placing His tshirt underneath it to catch the warm juices He was about to extract
“This is not giving you permission little girl” 
“no Sir, but The Master is in complete control over it”
In a beautifully orchestrated rhythm, seductive moans now are only to be heard with each deep thrust taking every inch that belongs solely and completely to Him
With its eyes barely open and body filled with fire,
the satisfied sounds invade its ears as a smile emerges from its lips
Serving its Master is what it is designed for while pleasing Him to His very soul 
A sexy content groan bellows out from the bottom of His belly with a final sigh of release and one last intensive force. The display of tension graciously easing its once firm grip, allowing lightness  in that will at last let Him fall into a wondrous slumber of peace tonight
Thank You for injecting Your delicious gift so deeply once again Sir. 
Sweet dreams Master. submissively and obediently Yours for always in all ways.
it loves You beyond words and cherishes You above this world

structure and consistency…

no matter where You are no matter how far

Your instructions are clear even when You aren’t near

this girl’s new bedtime to abide by every night

You have good reason for turning out the light

You taught me how to count the pictures in my mind

as I drift off to dreamland pleasant dreams I soon would find

grateful You care enough to take the time I need

without You it’s easy to get lost not following Your lead

in Your presence, Your arms, Your heart…

the day will come when water sinks low

to the bottom of the earth but the wind will still blow

like the pain from the past electrified and true

the subtle fresh daylight shines warmly making anew

this life we’ve encountered a style You unburied from inside

has taken us so deep wrapped up safely for me to hide

this goes beyond under the covers from the blanket You do swaddle me

the plans You have set forth are unveiling surely setting us both free

Sir You always excite me with every ounce of energy surging through my core

my heart races for You my Daddy whom i so adore

never did this little girl dream of these possibilities

that love honor and devotion could bring me to my knees

not caring of others thoughts judgments or opinions this is who i chose to portray

willingly give all of myself to You Sir the only Man i truly obey

gracious is my soul with every inch of my body You take

far beyond measure more than sexual desire and lust the perfect sub You make

with deep passion love and patience a wonderful Daddy depicting His sturdy frame

Your little girl simply melts in Your arms having only You to blame

serving You Sir is a blessing to always give and please

showing my loyalty to You alone putting Your heart at ease

as You give back to me what i never really had or found

a lifetime of missed opportunities You push me harder so my feet can leave the ground

maybe others cannot understand the depths where this can lead

perhaps because many of them won’t allow their hearts to bleed

the escape as it pours out manages my inner commotion

but Daddy it’s only You that comforts and soothes my every emotion

 

 

 

 

do you understand little girl…

Consistency is key, for without it i am easily confused,

“but why am i being punished for it this time when last time Daddy…”? 

“That’s on me baby girl, but I cannot reward this behavior.

Do you understand”?

“yes, Sir…”

Daddy has a lot of responsibilities and He’s not always perfect,

but this is…

I am worth every bit of the pain and ounce of sweat…

I started because You saw something within me. I stuck it out with everything to gain. Today I stay as my confidence is lifted, this is my new domain… 

After a mile run to warmup, the strength work out is next. Eighty-five pounds on my back, 5 x 3 now rack that. Next, how much can I clean in 3 rounds five reps each? Everybody warm now? Let’s go! 

With Pandora blasting a favorite Rise Against song to get us going, the clock starts. It’s me against myself in a warehouse full of weights, ropes, a giant rig and about ten other amazing people. 

Let the “death by 50” WOD begin: 50 calorie row, 50 box jumps, 50 dead lifts, 50 wall ball shots, 50 ring dips, 50 wall ball shots, 50 dead lifts, 50 box jumps, 50 calorie row. 

For my final time of 47.13, one by one, sweaty exhausted bodies begin to drop to the floor. Hearts pumping, breathing heavily while cheering on those still left to finish. 

Proud of my 95 pound dead lifts for a total of 100 and pressed on with the Rx weight of 14 pounds for a total of 100 wall ball shots, a smile emerged from my lips at last. My goal is, don’t watch the clock, to always finish and never fail.

In the midst of it all, I hear the shouting of my name when she says, “you got this!”, then a pat on my ass as he walks by and says, “nice job!” I’m lifted up, encouraged to push harder, do better, get stronger and show up for more tomorrow. 

These sexy calluses on my palms I have earned, each scar tells a story and every bruise eventually fades…

this is Crossfit, my safe community, my team

my own ESH (experience, strength, hope) or (extra special help) your choice…

lost

Self abandonment is something I am all too familiar with. We go way back, abandonment and me. For most of my life, I would put myself, needs, wants and desires on the back burner. It may even be safe to say that rarely would I be found on the stove. Growing up in a dys~fuck~tional home of dis~ease and addiction, I often had to find my own means of support, both emotionally and spiritually.

When I was two, my daddy had left us (me) and by the time I was seven, I knew mom had succumbed to her allergy when she became a full-blown alcoholic. Albeit still loving, slowly but surely her dis~ease robbed me of yet another parent. I typically found other means of seeking out comfort that I lacked now from both a mother and a father. A whole new description of abandonment developed.

I quickly learned I had to start growing up and fast. Try as I may to remain a child that I deserved to be, it was clear that I had to start learning to take care of my own needs. That meant that at ten, I babysat for extra cash so no one could tell me what I could or could not spend my money on. At that young age, I didn’t need materialistic things. The bonus was that it got me out of the house and temporarily away from the madness. Mom was a good provider in that our basics needs were met. She wasn’t incapable of sustaining employment. In fact, she was “highly functional” in her state of sickness and successful as a state employee. I did know she loved me, because she told me often.

So where was the lack and neglect? When she remarried I was seven and suddenly all her focus and attention was on this new man she expected to be my replacement daddy. Soon after is when the mental and verbal abuse started. The sting of abandonment, now enhanced. Mom cowered down to this man and never protected me. Her choice was evident who was more important and the burdens of an adult were now placed on this child. Suddenly I was now expected to carry them and take care of mom’s emotional state. I witnessed the demise of this lovely lady whom I once proudly called mom.

By the time I was a mid~teenager, I had been working for nearly six years and had the maturity of a young adult. I had responsibilities placed on me that were never age appropriate, but I lived up to them to the best of my abilities. This is the precise period of my life where I began to lose touch with my own self. It was as though I was forced to abandon my own thoughts, for fear of the ridicule and demeaning attacks that came with making mistakes. The message sent, received and delivered was, YOU are not good enough. Do better and MAYBE you will be loved, but only if you earn it.

Well, fuck. Order the party hats, hang the streamers, blow up the balloons and bring the popcorn, welcome to my lifelong pity party! What a party it was. I remember it starting at about age seventeen and lasting until maybe six years ago. No wonder I am exhausted keeping up those appearances that served me well for a very long time.

Let me back up quite a bit to my late teens where my own dys~fuck~tional relationship patterns were born. As I sought outside myself, seeking in others for my emotional fill-up needs, I was always led to the most unavailable sources because that was all I knew. I was drawn to and gave a free pass to those who would make me work harder for their love and attention. It was the system I witnessed that my mom created and we lived in. It seemed to work for her, it was familiar to me, so how was I to know any better? I continued to endure the verbal abuse and eventually even some physical. By now the pity party was in full force. Remembering often the message, “YOU are not good enough, try harder, be more, then maybe you will be worthy of love”. It was ingrained on my brain. Dance little princess dance.

Alright, I managed to escape my LTR from high school, but only because the next white knight flattered me enough to lure me away from my current abuser. The blood hadn’t even dried on the back of my head that went through the wall when I announced it was over and I was onto the next chapter. More balloons, streamers and cake please. This one is the one I can count on. He rescued me after all. He must love me for me. So he drinks more than I am comfortable with, smokes pot and snorts some white shit “once in a while”. I would never partake in that nor was it allowed at my pity party. However, I was determined that this guy was all I dreamed of and he would not be like the others because he would change for me. I AM that special and powerful, no matter what the old tapes playing in the background keep repeating. That is actually comical as I think of it now.

In the very beginning of this relationship I had lost my mom to a tragic, fatal car accident. I was twenty-two and devastated. She was my mom and despite everything, I loved her. By the mercy and grace of God, whom I had no relationship with, we had been mended with paperclips and scotch tape, but at least we “liked” each other again. That was my first introduction to detachment with love and acceptance. She was a beautiful soul who was caught in the cruelty of a horrific dis~ease. I stopped blaming and forgave her.

A year passed and I married this man after committing myself to complete self abandonment and promises to live in denial of the truth. Eighteen years and three amazing sons later, I filed for divorce after a tumultuous relationship with this alcoholic. The skills I took away from that chunk of my life were those on survival I had fine tuned. I became an expert in control, manipulation, managing, shaming, blaming, overcompensation, perfectionism, and oh yes, the party continued as prescribed by me. Except now, I began taking hostages in order for the celebration to carry on. Since all of my needs failed to be filled by any and all outside sources, my master skills were now serving me well.

The next one was on deck prior to the soon to be ex husband vacating the premises. This new man was simultaneously going through the same motions as I was. A match made in heaven, yes? Oh Lord I prayed this one was my final hero and savior here on earth. By this time I had come to terms with a lot of emotional pain and effects from a lifetime of abuse and neglect. Not only from those who were supposed to love me, but myself included. If I could not treat myself with the love and dignity I deserve and cherish all the blessings bestowed upon me, how could I be worthy of receiving more?

It was at this moment in my life I had found the rooms of recovery. A saving grace that welcomed me with open arms. I stumbled in, broken and shattered, depleted of all my self-worth, value and love. An empty shell that had been emptied over the course of nearly thirty years at that point. Pieces of me now strewn about, so scattered and left behind, hopeless and full of despair, how would I ever be put back together again? Angry that I was in this place where dys~fuck~tion forced me through the iron doors. Confused and frustrated why I was the one in need of changing and fixing. After all, I was not the one with an addiction problem that fucked up the lives of everyone they touched. Or so it seemed.

The newest man I was sure to be Heaven sent, scolded me and said he would not be able to see me as long as that husband was still in the picture and the house. That was enough incentive to light the fire. A few short, but long agonizing weeks later, he was out of the house I was happy to report. Done. Now will you love and cherish me? Five months later, we too were done. Meanwhile, I continued to show up in “those rooms” I was so resentful to have to be in. Little did I know, the message was seeping in my stubborn skull. It leaked in with every word I heard as it sounded like my own story. For every ounce of wisdom I allowed to creep in, I cried a bucket of tears. I knew where I belonged and I never left.

The balloons slowly deflated, streamers and hats disappeared one by one and the candles were finally blown out. A new party was in the works as resentments lessened and gratitude slowly replaced it. At some point I told my pride and ego to take a hike as they were no longer of service to me. I was becoming empowered and equipped as my faith grew and was humbled by the ESH of others. I came in because of them, the sick ones, I stayed for me, the real sick one. That was nearly eleven years ago. I have been asked why do you still go there? My answer is always, my life and emotional sobriety depend upon it.

As I dove head first into this new discovery that was teaching me a better way to live and love. I finally reached a point in my life that I began to make sense to me. I could admit I was a walking wounded, but not beyond repair and certainly worth every bit of work I willingly put into it. I found hope and courage, but more importantly, I established the two most important relationships I never thought possible. One with myself and the other with the God of my understanding.

In February of 2011, my beautiful, once filled with life twenty year old nephew died of a heroin overdose. He was as close to me as my own three sons. I thought my heart would never recover. I was again devastated by another loss. I hit my knees like never before. Lord, how much more are You going to remove from my life? I cannot fucking take one more tragedy. Enough, I yelled to the sky! It was in that depletion from my heartbreak that as I became angry at God, I drew closer to Him. I quit fighting and resisting His comfort and chose to walk with Him. I became devoted and fully trusted Him for the very first time. At that moment I obediently turned my will and my life over to Him. I was saved.

By this time I had suffered enough pain and loss that I was not willing to open my heart for another to come in and risk damaging the repairs that the Lord had mended. I continued to seek Him out in everything and relied on Him solely. My life began to change. The healing was coming from the inside out. I poured myself into the spiritual world of recovery and found balance for the first time in my life. Relationships were also being healed and brought to fruition because I have learned to cultivate them with God’s blessings and my offerings. I prayed for His wisdom and guidance for my life. Then one day shortly after losing my nephew, there was a new brokenness presented in my life. It came in the form of a human man.

I was blind to his presence in the early days as I was in turmoil and grief. My blinders were on, heart guarded and I remained obedient as I waited on the Lord to keep filling me up. At some point, this new man very subtly found his way through a crack in my heart. For the very first time in my new life, I didn’t seek out a man to fill my emptiness. I talked to God often about His intentions and will for me. Did You send this man for a reason? The answers revealed were, yes and I was to pour into him the abundance of love the Lord now fills me with because He has promised me an everlasting supply.

Over the course of our friendship and relationship, I have never given up on the man who God instructed me to encourage, support, lift up and love. He has taken my brokenness from me and undone what has harmed me. He has restored my heart a multitude of times. He never gave up on me and always waited patiently for my cooperation. Because of Him, I am more complete than I ever thought possible. My Heavenly Father made me perfect in His image and it is in Him that I seek forgiveness for disparaging His creation of me. I am the blessed one, granted new mercy and grace every day. 

 rumi 2

 tbc (to be continued)…

my heart please be changed…

So I wasn’t everything you ever wanted or solely who you needed, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t enough, nor worthy of all I deserved and needed.

self bondage

Somewhere along the way that was the message received. I pushed harder to fit inside the illusion of who you wanted me to be. I was continually met with resistance and couldn’t understand why. Story of my life darlin’; “if I only do more, be more, try more, I will succeed in performing right for you and then be accepted and loved”. All of which are contradictory to everything I have worked so hard to escape from these past 11 years. 

I am praying to be finished with dwelling in the pain and defeat. I ask God to lift these feelings of discouragement and remove them. I know who I am and I know Whose I am.. The systems of my life I have operated in, have been a small series of men all of whom I endured verbal abuse from. 

The way it has been is not the way it has to stay. God did not make me faulty and He will not participate in a path of self-destruction. He has nothing but grand intentions for me. When will I pay attention and be obedient solely to Him? It is time to stop allowing the enemy opportunities to create spiritual warfare on my soul. He is crafty, that one and works his evil ways on the insides of others, but my God is bigger!

Contentment is what I strive for today. Without it I will continually seek fulfillment from outside sources, ensuring the bondage of self.    

3rd step prayer

The Lord continues to reveal more brokenness of you my love, my former Sir, because that’s what I needed to have a better understanding to our finality. Wreckage that has wreaked havoc on someone should never be an excuse for bad behavior, only a reason. 

We are always appointed to be accountable and responsible for our actions. Coming to terms with that is how I escape blame and shame. Acceptance shows up, relieving pain and anger from their positions and being replaced by compassion and forgiveness on the other side.

I am not where I once was, but I am not yet where I am going. If I were, this would be the end of my journey and my final goodbye. No, I will rise up and shine once again, just like before.

My heart may be pierced, tear stains on my cheeks, new scars that will be there to remind me, but my value is intact. It can no more be lessened than it can be increased or determined by another. No one is that powerful.  

psalm 5 6-8

a lost kitty…

sad kitty

Where did Kitty go? Maybe the better question is, when did Kitty disappear? It was a subtle transition as my former Sir introduced a D/s lifestyle sometime back. At the time that was the way it was presented to me, a lifestyle, but somewhere along the way, the former Sir decided that a 24/7 wasn’t what he desired after all and the rules changed. The new memo was not entered into the invisible book, instead it was rather an assumption I was to just know . So lets keep it to a scene only D/s relationship, but continue to divulge in the lifestyle at particular moments that were never quite clear. The former Sir commanded and demanded every ounce of respect he was deserving of and kitty willingly complied.

He still deemed me his kitty and expected my submissiveness around the clock, when it worked for him, but still I wanted it. Confusion eroded this kitty’s brain. When do I behave as an authentic sub? The clouded version of what this looked like to kitty was far different from Sir’s version. When kitty was too playful in public, Sir gave disapproving looks with the assurance of correction when we got home. Another memo lost or blatantly not sub-mitted in the rule book. What was happening?

As time went on, the expectations placed on kitty increased to a larger scale that she began to feel defeated. There was such uncertainty to Sir’s rules that left kitty sitting in wonder and self-doubt of her obedience and  her role anymore. Often she became paralyzed by thoughts of making a wrong decision for fear of looking badly in her former Sir’s eyes. The last thing kitty ever wanted was to let him down. So she carried on as if all was well, because the former Sir would falsely lead her to believe that as the truth.

The deception that was being created was becoming unbearable to this once purring kitty. She now was in a constant state of inner turmoil that caused her to second guess her once confident self. The surety of what was to be a protected safe interaction between two people who consciously chose to enter a lifestyle together, quickly became tainted by extracurricular activities by her former Sir.

Long before they found themselves in this existence, the former Sir casually mentioned it once and he was told that his kitty does not share her Sir. Her boundaries clearly spoken, yet Sir held tight to his conviction that nothing had changed from when he first stated this long before. Here is where it became a muddled mess, a technicality if you will. Knowing my feelings that I am never willing to be one of many, why would I knowingly stay along for this ride? Why would Sir keep me? He didn’t need me.

Because it was not spoken of again, kitty thought she was understood and had nothing to fear.  How could it be viewed any other way I pleaded. According to the former Sir, because it was stated once, it didn’t deserve the consideration to be revisited as they evolved in their relationship and he carried on. Unspoken words on both sides have led us to this place of destruction, pain and sorrow.

As this lost kitty reflects back and comes to this present day, she mentally follows the path that brought us to this place we are now stuck in, turmoil of finality. The result has been the demise of this once faithfully purring kitty and, what I had assumed, was a satisfied, respected Sir.

We prided ourselves for our ability to communicate about anything, but even that became a criticized event on the former Sir’s side. His constant claiming that he was not being heard or his concerns being considered was inaccurate from my side. It began to feel like I was dealing with a man whose past life continually taunts and tortures him and I was somehow responsible for cleaning up the wreckage created by those who came before me.

Now this kitty feels she has been led astray, broken, crushed and wounded. Was there malicious, self sabotaging intent on the former Sir’s part? I cannot definitively answer that, for it would be mere speculation, but it feels that way. The reasons that come up for me are  his own paralyzing fear to commit for fear of betrayal from the women in his past.

For this kitty to have entered into such a deep, intimate interaction between two people that is solely based on trust, I now feel very deceived and extremely used and abused. My former Sir broke the rules and the trust that must accompany the standards of this world we became a part of. Too often the rules were rewritten and his kitty never received a copy. She was left to guess, figure things out and when she couldn’t, there was unfair punishment administered. Usually in the form of her former Sir withholding himself from her as he, “made room for others” because I “wasn’t interested in stepping up”. To what, I never had defined concisely, only left feeling depleted of his love. That was highly torturous and demeaning to kitty.

In the end, kitty’s Sir stripped her the right to call him her Sir any longer, deeming her unworthy and she is to “earn that privilege back over time” when her former Sir lets her know. She continued to fall short in his eyes, so she tried harder to no avail. Eventually the light shined down on the truth, that her former Sir had in fact not committed to her in the way she had thought. Instead he eluded her for some time as she continued to feel excluded and doubted he ever intended to give her any part of him.

It is now clear that this once amazing Dominant had become Domineering. It was a gradual shift, but over the course of events had become apparent to kitty. Now she is left holding her heart in her hands as her tears continue to shed, wondering how she arrived at this place…

trust in the Lord

be in a commitment or be committed…

thinker

Deep in thought about respect, love, honor, loyalty and submission. All of which I have and willingly give to my Sir. The question arises now, do I have these coming back to me. I cannot definitively say anymore as new light is shed upon circumstances beyond my comprehension to hold. Discretion is not a fine tuned practice for anyone and I am not immune to it. So now I ask myself, if I am not being exclusively committed to, should I be committed? This gives me pause, reason to ponder and reevaluate my own boundaries.

I have grown in my love for my Sir. Given full submission to Him and gratefully surrender my mind, body and soul to Him. Upon meeting this beautiful soul just shy of three years ago, I was determined not to let Him near my heart, let alone my body. Sir was (and still is) easy on the eye. Our ability to carry on an easy flowing conversation was very attractive to me. His emotional maturity refreshing along with His natural way of leading. It was only a matter of months before I was in. One morning out to breakfast together, after a guise of seeing His new mantel and wood stove, before I knew it, Sir “took what was His” and has ever since.

Although we were both very vanilla back then, not having the pleasure of voicing our desires in either of our past lives, we slowly began to discover deeper sensual things about the other.  Even then, the submission had begun for me as He was learning to exercise the true Man that resided within and I the sub wanting to explode and surrender to Him.

It wasn’t until earlier this year that Sir introduced a new lifestyle, one toy, one erotic scene, one conversation at a time. At last our kinks, fetishes, mutual desires began to be revealed. Exploration of the other introduced an entire new form of this flourishing relationship we now refer to as D/s.

So I am in conflict with myself, my feelings and mostly my own boundaries of what I am willing to participate in. As a beautiful, willing, young enough sub who strives hard and succeeds most of the time to please her Sir, I am praying for the courage to share my truth, speak from my heart and say out loud to my Sir what He already knows. The fact that I not only need exclusiveness I have to feel secure in this wish that He is capable of honoring it. In order for me to continue our journey together along this path that He paves the way for, I must use my voice.

The struggle remains because the outcome is unknown. What I do know is I have but this one life and I no longer intend to live it in wonder and confusion. I allowed myself to remain in an unhealthy marriage ten years longer than I ought to have when it was clearly sentenced to death long before. Sir had a very similar experience and close to the same length of dreaded time. In actuality, this is the first working, healthy relationship either of us has ever encountered because we are both working on our own “stuff”. We have taken risks in each other, invested more than I ever thought possible. Each worthy of the other. This is in no way to have the feel of or give a sense of an ultimatum. I would never disrespect my Sir in that way. It is the fact merely suggesting that I am aware I must be true to me. He wouldn’t want me any other way.

I am not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, nor is perfection something I aspire to, but rather living up to the very best of my capabilities is my goal. Sir pushes me hard to achieve these and He sees the positive outcome in the results. He reminds me that it makes Him happy and it pleases Him very much . In turn, those compliments encourage me to work harder whether it be for my career, my body or simply life. The rewards are endless. His care and compassion ignite my soul.

Together we make complete sense.

cropped-submissive-position.jpg

Sir is everything I never knew I always wanted…

The most uncomfortable place I can be in is, the unknown…

believe

I became a believer a few years ago. I walk in faith, you know, believing in something you cannot see. Every now and then fear rears its ugly horns (and pitchfork) and I am sitting in the discomfort zone of hell!

devil

This was a doozy of a misunderstanding between the Captain and I. However, to him it was much, much more. Of course I couldn’t leave well enough alone by listening to him tell me to stop pressing the issue. He just wasn’t ready for the conversation yet. He was absolutely right in his thinking and I ended up with what I deserved. A couple of days to think about what I was going to do differently and how!

As I was headed to one of my favorite jogging trails, I felt tears of confusion well up and I asked God to give me clarity. “Please just put me heavy on the Captain’s heart so we can move past this”. I had just barely parked the car, engine still running and a text came through, “I’ll pick you up for breakfast at 8:45…” Praise You God!!

Needless to say, I skipped my run, flew home, dolled up with what little time I had and soon I was sitting in the truck, quietly waiting his cues. He gave me ample opportunity to open the bag of worms, but instead, I continued to make small talk and fiddle with breakfast while gazing out the window. I watched as others came in enjoying their day. Why is it that it always appears to me that the entire world is walking on sunshine when the pit of my stomach is burning? I continued to wait for that precise moment to begin my apologies, but it never seemed to come.

We ate, stopped off at the store, he took me home and I stood there in the doorway, dumbfounded still not knowing what to say or do, but the flooding of words were spilling over inside my head. I fumbled for what to say. He left. I panicked. Again, I asked God, “WTF do I do now? (He already forgave me for my foul acronym) You gave me a window. Shit, You ripped off the siding and still I said nothing!”

My instructions were, “deep breath, get in car, be responsible, take care of business first, then proceed to his door”. I did exactly what was put on my heart. I knew he’d be sitting in his office and see me the second I approached the door. As I put my hand on the doorknob, I could see the look of, “why the fuck are you here?” on his face. I asked permission to enter as I turned the knob, he nodded. I made a silly, break the ice comment, went pee and came back, “can I try this again, please?”

After a lengthy, productive, mature, long overdue conversation, (some teary on my part) he stood up, turned me around and gentle pushed me towards the bedroom as piece by piece he stripped me down. The gentleness was gone. Punishment came first, as well it should. My disobedience and disrespect had to be dealt with. I felt just how angry he had been for a day and a half as the sting from every swat brought a tear of relief to my eyes.

Angry, make up sex is very fucking sexy. Not that I plan to get my red ass in trouble again anytime soon, or on purpose. I would much rather have the discipline be for our erotic pleasure. I was however, very sad, still am, that he told me he threw my toys away. “They have to be earned” was his reply to my, “you did??!” Oh, I will earn them back, and then some!

spank