Spanking Relief

I was pretty mad about Lynda locking our son out on the coldest day of the year, but while I was interacting with some of you I realized that I was angry over stuff that went back a bunch of years. Since spanking is supposed to help us move forward, I can't use it to keep us stuck in yesterday.

So while I spanked her for forgetting something important, I did not spank her for the 50,000 things she's forgotten over the past three decades.

I used to accuse her of forgetting things on purpose to somehow hurt me. There is an element of truth in that accusation, but it's also true that she loves me and I love her and there's only so much guilt you can lay on a person for something she doesn't realize she's doing.

The next day I was sick with fever, chills, and a headache that went down to my ankles, plus no voice. She was cheerful and bustling through the house getting chores done. I think she was hoping I would forget about the incident from the day before.

I took the laundry from her arms and put it aside. "Let's get this over with," I croaked elegantly, "I'm tired of thinking about it." Her cheerful mask faded as I led her by the arm to our place and put her over my lap.

I'm never sure what to say when I spank her. I just can't scold her like she is a child, although I have lectured her before. But this time, most of my words were of reassurance.

While I smacked away, I told her that while she must be accountable, I know we both love our children and that she would never intentionally hurt them. I'm not sure how one can feel relieved while being spanked, but it could see it in her whole body while her bottom became increasingly red.

"You know you've got this bad habit for forgetfulness," I continued. "You may have forgotten your meds, or your hormones could be doing a number on you. Nevertheless, I still hold you responsible for your actions, or lack thereof. Do you understand?"

She nodded yes. How else was she going to answer?

Afterwards, I could still see the relief.

I have puzzled for many years about how to help Lynda be free from her demons of guilt, fear, and shame. We've been to counselors, we've prayed, and we use the meds. But the only times I've ever seen her free for at least a moment is in the day after a spanking.

Like I'm seeing in her today.

She just came sashaying through here with a sly look directed at me. I'm still grievously ill here but I know an invitation when I see one, and a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, so I'm going to have to get back to you now.

She Forgot to Remember

I've written that Lynda forgets things that can turn out to be important: phone messages, paying bills, renewing the driver's license. It used to be that the more important I said something was, the more likely it would be that she would forget.

When I protested (whined or yelled) she would act offended and figure out a way to make her forgetting my fault and she would act insulted as if she were a princess who should not be expected to do such mundane tasks.

It has been a few years since I got the princess treatment, but she still forgets important stuff. I usually cope by having a redundant system or I don't rely on her to remember but insist she do the task right then while we're talking.

This time she forgot to leave the door unlocked for our younger child when he got home from school. She had to go to the market for a couple of hours and knew she would be gone when school was out, so we agreed to leave the door unlocked and a note for him in the kitchen. No problem for small town living.

Only she forgot and locked the door anyway and left our boy unable to get inside on the coldest day of the year (lower teens). We're used to thinking of him as the baby, but he's a pretty big kid now. He walked a mile to find me at my office, just as his mother called me to tell me what happened and that he was missing. She was very shaken and I was glad to assure her he had just come in.

He was shaken, too (as well as shaking). We got him home and pampered him a bit too much with hot chocolate and such (remember, he's the baby). Then he and I had an overdue talk about how to take care of himself in situations like this. It's time to coach him to the next level of self sufficiency. We'll turn this into a growing experience.

Stuff happens. We all forget. No real harm done. But one day the harm will be real because this is more than absentmindedness.

Earlier in the day, I could see she was getting "fuzzy" and I thought about giving her a light wake up spanking. But the day was full and I woke up sick with something I hope is not the flu. If I had done it then, perhaps this would not have happened.

I know the conversation we will have. She'll blame it on missing her meds (which is going on the list of spanking offenses). She'll cry and exclaim she just doesn't know what's wrong with her.

But she will not talk her way out of a big spanking. It will happen tomorrow no matter how I feel, even if I have a mutant version of bubonic plague.

I don't like these occasions of punishment and I'm working on ways to preempt them. I've been allowing this behavior to happen for decades. I wish I had been man enough to deal with it more effectively when we were young--but I think that's another post, and besides, I'm doing it now.

Two for One

I've noticed when Lynda has gotten a big punishment spanking, she will do something else within twenty-four hours that calls for another one. I've written about how on the last occasion I did not spank her that second time. But assuming there is no such thing as a coincidence when it comes to human behavior, I've been thinking things over.

Some of you readers has spoken about how you crave a spanking for the catharsis, but Lynda does not EVER claim to want one. However, when she does something that calls for a second one almost immediately, it makes me think.

I brought this to her attention. I told her again that although I was easy on her the last time--it would be the last time. If she deserved two big spankings in a row, that's exactly what she would get.

Then I went over our agreement again on paper, where I made some changes and gave her the option to get out of this arrangement. She still gives her consent--even signed it.

"I think it's a good thing," she told me yesterday. But there was no elaboration.

Since that big spanking she went from being almost impossible to live with to being cheerful and productive. She has even offered some affectionate gestures of her own initiative in the bedroom, which is not typical.

We've had a couple of light, fun spankings since then--at least they were fun for me. But they were not for discipline.

However, I wonder if we aren't building to another big one. A couple of days ago, she started acting tense and emotional over what seemed like minor things. Add to it that my being tired and hassled at work which often makes her anxious.

This time, I'm not going to let a large number of offenses pile up. I'm going to catch it the very first time action is called for. Perhaps this way we can make it more fun and less angst ridden.

I'm going to pay attention to see if she does something to make it a two-for-one occasion. And if she does, I will follow through.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

We're visiting family this year. We drove all day yesterday to get here, where there's plenty of celebration going on.

I hope all of you are with people you love and that you can easily recognize the things you're grateful for.

--Mick

Taken to the Edge

I'd like to ask you readers a question. I've actually asked some individuals who are giving it some thought, but I'd like to open it up for wider discussion.

Several of the women who write blogs on this subject refer to the concept of being taken to the edge. They often express frustration that their men will not spank them hard enough to get them to that point.

Can any one tell me what is meant by "the edge"?

What happens when you reach the edge? What does it take to get you there? What do you feel? What is the benefit? How can the dominant know when you have reached it?

I would appreciate your sharing any discussion you have on the matter.

Art Day

Note: It would put things in context to read the previous two stories.

"Today is Art Day," I pronounced.

As I've said before, Lynda's best means of expression is through her art, much more so than words.

Because I took over scheduling her days, and because we're caught up on the niggling chores, she now has time for art. On this day, I told her we would go out to lunch and that I would buy takeout for all of us that evening, so her day was completely clear.

Also, because she has given me the authority, I instructed her as to how to go about her activity so she would not get bogged down in perfection or confusion.

"Take the first hour," I wrote her, "And draw quick sketches of anything you want. Make as many as you can, but you must have seven (7) at the end of the hour."

This is a trick I picked up as a writing exercise when I feel blocked. It helps get the flow going again. I translated it into Lynda's art.

She made ten pictures. All of Arabian horses, which she loves and also identifies with.

"Pick one of them as a basis for a finished piece of art. If it doesn't pan out, you can start over if you want, but not more than twice."

"You are not allowed to do anything but art. If the phone rings, take a message. When the kids get home from school, tell them to get their own snacks because you're busy."

At lunch she was a chatterbox, telling me about techniques and colors and the pictures she found on the internet to help her get started.

I told her she could quit at 5:30 in the afternoon if she wanted, but she chose to keep working. Late that night, after I had gone to bed, she finished the first piece of art I've seen her produce in two or three years.

I woke up this morning to see it resting on the kitchen counter.

It is an impressionistic piece of a galloping horse drenched in the beautiful autumn colors of orange and red swirls. The horse is interesting in that it isn't a full figured beauty but a small lean creature that is young yet looks a little ravaged. However, the mane is full and flowing. The movement shows vitality and joy. The swirling colors make me consider that there are many possibilities in life.

I'm looking forward to hearing her describe it when she wakes up.

This activity was for her benefit, but it was also for me. It's the best feedback I've gotten from her in a long time.

Post Script:

We are now into a second day of art. I have a long awaited day off where I'm dozing in my chair or writing on the computer that rests with me in my lap. I'm listening to my beautiful wife hum softly as she works on another painting. All moments are fleeting, so I'm paying close attention, not wanting to waste it.

This is a moment I've been imagining and working for since I met her over twenty-eight years ago.

The Next Day

It was the day after the big spanking (see previous entry).

The very next day she committed another spanking offense. One of our issues is her learning to manage her time. She was not paying attention and she went somewhat past a deadline. It was not intentional, at least consciously. But intentional or not, it warranted an agreed up punishment--not severe, but enough to make an impression.

When I came in she was upset. She explained what happened, with lots of rationalizations: her being late hadn't hurt anything; it didn't matter in the larger scheme of things; the work would be done soon enough.

She started sobbing. "I really don't want another spanking," she said.

Was that true? Or was she testing my resolve? Did she actually need me to be strong enough to override her protestations?

I went to her, made her stand up, turn around, and bend over. The spanking consisted of my lightly patting her backside several times while I spoke.

"I expect you to do your work on time. To pay attention. This little warning is an exception. There won't be others. Next time it will be a real punishment. Do you understand?"

And I was done.

Call me weak. Tell me that I didn't do what needed to be done. But I just couldn't do more. What's more, if I had it to do over again, I would still be lenient.

The woman has hidden strength, but she also has some very real fragilities that must be taken into account, especially by the HOH.

If she lost respect for me, I can correct that problem soon enough. If she needed me to spank in order to find reassurance, I'm sure another opportunity will present itself.

At the risk of sharing TMI--In bed that night, I found another way to show my dominance, after which we both slept well.