I posted this post last night under another title. Don’t ask me, I can’t remember, but I know the title influenced the comments that made me withdraw it probably much more so than the content of the post. I’m reposting hoping to get less judgemental responses than “Another sick,nauseating, drunken, self-indulgent, incoherent rant. For God’s sake, get some professional help, stay off the booze, and quit wasting everyone’s time until you can stay sober!” and “p.s. I forgot pretentious and half-literate.”
I had to be at work from 8AM - 8PM today and just didn’t have time to moderate a flame war about what the content of this post was or wasn’t, so, I took it down. I know some of you saw the post last night & the comments because you’ve written telling me to wise up and get the post back up etc… I removed the post and discussion for the sake of peace and to preserve the intent of my post. I did not want it taken on a tangent projected by a sad soul who inadvertently let her instinct to attack out of pain try to label and own my efforts to expore and own my journey.
Honestly this is a post I really believe I needed to make. For one thing I know I’m not the only selfish submissive who is afraid her status could be ruined by stepping outside her comfort zone. I know I’m not the only human being who has benefited from looking at what keeps them from daring to try things that would please their partner out of fear. I was neither drunk nor desperately depressed as I wrote this. I’d talked with H he was OK with my worries, I’d thought through the roller coaster my mind made & I tried to put it all out there so I could integrate it.
For the record, I’m in therapy, I go every week. I take only the meds I’m prescribed, and even those I take only rarely. I couldn’t tolerate the Effexor, I nibble partial Xanax tabs when a day is especially stressful and I can’t cope, and I take Ambien every so often when I can’t sleep. Yeah some evenings (maybe twice or three times a month) I take a whole Xanax and it makes me loopy. I don’t post those nights though. I don’t. Period. I’ve put myself on a take a pill only after shutting down the computer rule and I’ve kept to it.
This post is not about the past at all OK though! & it’s not about someone who wanted to shut me up out fear and projections of their own demons. This is about introspection, selfishness as it could relate to inhibiting exploration, and the exploration… This is about a discussion I do not want derailed by bullshit, and yet because it was, can’t ignore. Please could we mostly the keep discussion focused on what is in this post from this paragraph down… Please… Please…. please…. I’ve added somethings to clarify my intent, reworded some tense & 1st vs 3rd person stuff, but this is last night’s post.
The post…
As unusual experiences go this one started on a fairly ordinary ebb. It was hard to get into the novelty when there was so much extraneous rushing around preceding what had the potential to become either special or a disaster. As it turns out the dilution of mundane if compressed life issues probably saved me from over thinking it all. Giving a spanking after all was just not something I’d ever thought i would do. Sure I’d entertained the idea of taking a few women over my lap in my day, but the prospect of spanking a man hung out there on the fringes of my thoughts, interesting, but almost taboo. I really didn’t fantasize about it, thought I certainly enjoyed teasing about it, especially with dominant men who tended to get stiff and bossy when I dared. Still the thought had crossed my mind over the years. Sometimes it came with a vengeance when sheer anger and frustration found its way into the more destructive and mutinous crevices of my heart and life with an ordinary and oh so imperfect man whom I’d allowed the power of the last word and a swift firm hand. Other times it was just a giggling thought, could I spank the way I wanted to be spanked?
The oddest part of the prospect presented in my life most recently was how the gist of conversations changed. The underlying expectation seemed to be that giving a spanking was as close to the surface of my identity as getting one had always been. It was a source of stress, confusion and yes irritation. I started feeling very selfish. A conversation would begin as usual with what seemed like mutual interest, then suddenly it was all about his spanking and questions about how excited I must be about giving it, and then the assumption that I’d secretly always wanted to give it. I struggled within myself and worried I was missing something. We’d really not ever talked about anything that should have led to that assumption. Was it supposed to be there? Was I supposed to want to spank as much as I wanted to be spanked?
I felt selfish, not just because I’d seen my needy reflection so unexpectedly, but because I felt like my spanking really was about to become secondary in a relationship I’d invested in with the subject out in the open so it could be primary. I felt worried that there was much more of that to come. As I visit my therapist every week, I’m discovering that me and my wants, needs, opinions, desires etc. have consistently been second in my life. In hind sight with therapy, I’m finally acknowledging something I’ve avoided; that often, even my need to get spanked had been secondary to my husband’s need to spank. In spite of it’s usual and fortunate compatibility with my needs, getting spanked has not always been as mutual or comfortable as I wanted the world to believe. Right and beneficial, yes, in the way all things that make couples explore and examine their strengths and issues together are when the accomplish that purpose. But not ideal and not as clean as any DD spanking story I’ve written. Now though, the prospect of having this need for spanking and being spanked and submissive part of me become second even usurped was a new kind of uncomfortable. I could see myself try to accomodate instead of integrate again. To keep my friend and new found intimacy, what if I let myself be persuaded to go where my needs and desires are second again? I’m curious about spanking him but not pre-occupied by it. Should I be? Was there something missing in me? The plain truth was that I was less interested in spanking than I was in being spanked, no matter what lay in my immediate future, that fundamental truth still ruled, yet now I felt selfish and worried.
I wanted to give him what he wanted. I wanted to be a whole participant. Liking him was primary, and helped immensely. I understand self centered interests and I wanted to honor his, I am just very new at reconciling and adapting to them. Outside the everyday cumulative if acquired comfort and reinforcement of marriage, where the shear strenghth of Fred’s dominant interests, out of the necessity of peace and harmony, had to either become mine or get hashed out in conflict; I’m still learning how to navigate. It’s hard for a camelion like me to learn to give outside my needs without fear of loosing myself. Still, I wanted to and did I relish that fulfilling the needs of another offered me a new prospect and a richer self. I was going to try to give a spanking. Selfish worries, insecure thoughts … excitement, intrique.
And when the day came…… Thankfully the crush and crescendo of commitments, must get done’s, travel and work overwhelmed all the butterflies and confusion. Life and reality ruled and forced honest ownership of a precious moment with a friend. When the time came, virtually all of the corruption my idle, lost mind chattered about in insecure moments up till then, as illustrated above, fell away. Now; no second thoughts, rationalizations, ruminations, worries based on strange tangents of thought, old history or pain even managed voice. Now and all of it’s oddly gleeful immediacy took over. I safely and gratefully moved into the day as it evolved without any of the baggage, fears or selfish ruminations able to get in.
My spanking didn’t just come first, it made a point. I think, in hind sight I no understand, that he wanted to make sure that even though we were going to switch, that I didn’t loose sight of who was the subject of discipline in our friendship. Even though I had kept to every promise and even gone above and beyond to try and excel in the things we’d made the subject of discipline … in essence I’d been a good girl, he made it clear. How do you spank a good girl who’s insecure about her place? You give her a maintenance spanking to remember that’s how, and he did,
In the doing of maintenance, somewhere during round three, each more than a hundred plus with his hand, paddle and bath-brush, as I counted somewhere in the 70’s of what was supposed to be 100 with the cracker barrel paddle, my skin broke and blood flew. Darn if it wasn’t just the oozy, seepy kind of bleeding most often caused by long spankings. It was pouring dripping and just plain way more than it should have been. Just the way the skin broke, and not at all related to severity. I wasn’t ready for the spanking to end either. Even though every one of the 70+ full force paddle strokes scalded me and literally each one made me whimper and wonder if I shouldn’t beg as I counted them, I was trying so hard to enjoy and revel in my limits, knowing it was beyond me to make the 100. I wanted and needed every serious and stinging whap. When it ended by blood, it was a bit dissapointing for me, but deeper, in my cozy zone it was perfectly OK. That’s what my body needed; that’s what I got. Doncha just love fate and providence?
It was just fine with me that my skin gave out before my spanking ended though I was sort of looking forward to being made to cum with the tawse. That was where he intended to go before letting me up to attend to him, and we’d barely even gotten close to that. It wasn’t to be this time, but in the moment it was just fine.
When my butt started bleeding the whole mood hiccupped in a surreal way; one that worked like providence in a way. I’d been worried about how we would transition from spakee to spanker, and just could grasp how on earth I could ever spank if my bottom was bare, and how could I say so if it came round to spanking him after he spanked me.. Now, with this turn of events, I had a reason to put my panties back on. Something had to tamponade the toilet tissue pressed up to my battered bleeding bum tissue. So, while I had been wondering how I could find any semblance of toppitude with my ass already red hot and bare while I tried to give him the dose of the woodshed he wanted, now I had a reason to pull my pants back on. It felt essential and right for me. Someday, maybe I’ll be comfortable spanking with my own spanked ass already blistered wobbling bare in the breeze as I let loose the strap.
So, what was it like giving a spanking?
It was neat! Yeah that’s it, full the characterization, it was neat! In my life, I’ve chased my guy around the bed trying to boldly land a whap, and I laughed wholeheartedly when my submissive peers have described doing the same, each of us have giggled and enjoyed the consequences more than the experience though - a forbidden escapade in brattitude. A few Top/Dom bloggers have even joked about the silliness of the bratty spanking exploits of bottoms. But this was different. I was not getting in a brat’s swat, I was laying in hard trying to give a woodshed experience.
Yeah here I am a bottom who has spanked and found herself forced to see beyond herself as the center of the universe.
First I used London Tanner’s DD ruler strap. I laid in several ‘as hard as I could muster,’ whaps. It surprised me how his skin flinched, and I appreciated the “bloom” of each stripe. I’d laid three before one even started to show. ho’d have thought a stripe took so long to show? Well, I never knew any way. Then there was the totally unexpected back whap that spanked my wrist. Then I used the “daddy strap.” No counting how many ok, you saw to picture, let’s just say that not only did my wrist get it as hard as his bottom did, I’m still massaging an aching knot on the joint space of my right elbow. Poor me. LOL. Better yet poor H! I know it hurt a lot because not only did it leave livid marks, his whole body jumped and quivered with each stroke. I probably spoiled the experience by stopping to notice these things - how marks form, what they look like, how, the straps whap back, or maybe I didn’t. It was novel for me, and I did really try to let myself get into it.
I got to spank. The first few whaps felt odd, and then I just gave what I’d want to get. I wanted to, I was curious, I wanted to do more, I probably will do more.
Gawd I wish I could give more to the real meaning of the cracking lustful reality. I didn’t just spank I whalluped…. I’m actually not sure I could take what I gave, which is another yet unspoken fear….
Spanking isn’t just about giving what you hope your partner wants, it’s about fearing that you’ll go to far and reveal too much of a part of you that’s carefully guarded. For me it was letting out and delivering something that would meet a part of my need to receive that might scare a spanker away. I cannot imagine the inhibition associated with letting out the desire to give that. I really can’t, though I truely appreciate the opportunity to have my eyes opened to the experience… it was neat.
