Choices

Words Have Power

Lecturing.  It has never been a big part of our DD relationship.  Anne may list off a short set of transgressions that justify the whipping she is about to deliver, or she may make me list my offenses.  Usually, it is at most a few short sentences, then she gets down to business.  Many DD couples advise, however, that lecturing can be a powerful part of the experience and can be particularly useful in fostering a sense of real remorse and in bringing about a deeper sense of surrender and submission.  I was always skeptical.  What could a bunch of words do that the feel of wood or leather on a tender bottom didn't already accomplish?

Well, in one short session I have become a convert.  I recently pointed Anne to a spanking article that advised stern lecturing both before and during a spanking.  I doubted she would implement it, because she usually does want to just get down to business.  And, I was not sure that I wanted her to implement it.  Not because I thought it would make me feel more vulnerable, contrite or scared but because,  if not done correctly, it could seem like bad dramatic role playing. I was wrong on all accounts..

Last week, we had a session that was very different for us, on many levels.  Anne had told me that I was going to be "caught up" that night, for a variety of offenses.  Usually, when the appropriate time arrives, she simply orders me into the basement where I am told to disrobe, and she then paddles and whips to her heart's content.  This time, instead of following me to the basement immediately, she ordered me to go down there, get naked, and wait.  She kept me waiting for quite some time.  Finally, I heard the basement door open followed by her purposeful steps on the stairs.  She rounded the wall at the bottome of the stairway and . . .

Knee high boots, a black, partially see through bustier, no panties, and a very determined look on her face.  (The picture to the left isn't quite right, but it's the closest I could find.)  Now, we usually are not into the whole FemDom fetish scene but, I have to admit, my heart jumped a beat, and Little Reece jumped to even more rigid attention.  She strode over confidently and stood directly in front of me.  With her in the boots and me naked,  she was a bit taller than I and able not only to look me in the eyes but to look down on me a bit.   And, from that position of power, she began to do something very out of the norm.  She began to lecture.  Her tone was firm and  even; its measured amd deliberate nature scary in itself.  She began laying out all my various indiscretions in detail, and told me with many words just how much she was looking forward to making me pay for those sins.  When she had finally spoken her mind fully, she went over to the suitcase in which we keep her implements, and chose a wooden fraternity paddle that she hasn't used in a long time.  It is an evil piece of work, about 18 inches long, with lost of holes that raise nasty round welts.  "We haven't used this on you in a long time.  Let's remedy that.  Get over the sofa."  And, I did, quickly.  She gave me ten very hard swats, then paused.  I assumed she was changing position or getting a new tool but, instead, she lectured  me again.  As she listed each transgression, she emphasized the consequences she was going to administer and made me acknowledge that I understood why I deserved this paddling.  She then delivered another 10 or 12 very hard swats to my bare bottom.  Then again, she lectured.  Then swatted.  Lectured. Swatted. Lectured. Swatted.  Over and over.

These interspersed lectures did two things.  First, they allowed time for each volley to really sink in while also allowing sufficient recovery time such that my bottom did not have a chance get numb in the way it sometimes does in the middle of a long spanking..  Second, and this surprised me, it really increased my emotional response, particularly my fear.  Because, I knew that if she was still lecturing then she also was not finished spanking.  With each volley, I thought, "This is so hard!  It hurts so, so much!  Please, please, please let this be the end!"  (Or words to that effect).  Then, those measured tones would start again, and I would know that in a few seconds the paddling was going to resume yet again. 

When she finally let me up, I actually felt chastised and humbled.  And, it takes a lot to humble me.  I do not know whether this will be turning point in our disciplinary relationship and, particularly, something that brings me closer to the tears that I find so threatening yet so perversely, powerfully alluring.  But, it definitely increased the emotional intensity and the sense of vulnerability.

And, after the spanking was over, she was not quite finished impressing on me who is boss.  Though, this time it was far more pleasurable than the two lashings, one verbal and other very concrete, that she had just delivered.

Happy Halloween

Happy Halloween! I searched the web in vain for spanking artwork with a Halloween theme, so I settled for a bit of Halloween eye candy.


I really do love Halloween, though we are doing little for it this year. Our household was hit hard by H1N1, and we are only now recovering. Planning a proper Halloween party takes some time, and we just were not up to it this year. Oh well. I guess Anne and I will just have to create some adult Halloween fun here at home on our own.


And, it seems my Halloween evening will be spent baring my bottom to receive my Bewitching Wife's evil ministrations. Though I will undoubtedly try to avoid and evade, in all likelihood before the clock strikes the witching hour, my bare ass will look more than a little like the swollen globes of a Halloween pumpkin. She sent a text message this afternoon to put me on notice that tonight she will be “catching me up” on the discipline she believes I have earned over the last two unspanked weeks. A “reckoning” that she asserts is amply justified by various bad acts, though when challenged to name one she has a difficult time doing so. As alluded to in my last entry, however, I think Anne recently reached a turning point in her spanking philosophy; one in which there is a somewhat looser relationship between crime and punishment. Though she still recites an offense or two in obligatory fashion, it is apparent that she is more and more comfortable with the notion that spanking my tushy gives her a squishy pussy, and that is all the justification she really needs.



And, truth be told, I am overdue. I've been surly. My work performance has been mediocre. In short, I need some help focusing right now, and nothing sharpens my focus like being bent over the sofa waiting for the next strike of the paddle

"It's About Me . . ."

There has been a small but noticeable uptick in the level of disciplinary action in our household. Notably, it has happened during a period in which my behavior has been a little better than normal. Some of this is by agreement, and some definitely falls into the category of "Be careful what you wish for . . ."

As recounted a few posts ago, it has been an unsettling 6 months in the Seever household. New home. New community. New job. The churn and roil around us is something I have both internalized and projected. I told Anne a few weeks ago that if she really wanted to see a change in my behaviour, she might have to step up her level of control. While she's not yet as consistent as we have both agreed would be optimal, she has, in fact, been delivering. For example, we have talked many times about the need to integrate more impromptu discipline into our routine, i.e., when I misbehave or anger Anne in some way, the punishment should be immediate, or at least before we go to be that night, not days away. We both agree that discipline is more effective when delivered there and then. Also, we both know I am quite good at talking my way out of a spanking, but it is less likely to happen if Anne is still fuming over the latest infraction.

While we both feel such instantaneous feedback would be better in controlling me and more empowering for her, it just was not happening. Until recently. A few nights ago, I did something that annoys her greatly but that I see as good fun. I won't bore you with the details. This time, instead of lecturing and nagging, she looked me straight in the face, her eyes burning with anger and yelled, "Get your pants down and get over the bed. Now!" I started to argue, but before I could she barked, "Don't make this worse. Get them down and get over that bed, or you're going to regret it." She stalked off angrily to the bathroom, returning with the dreaded bathbrush. I draped myself over the bed, and she quickly delivered a dozen very strong whacks to each cheek. It didn't last long, but it made her point.

Then, yesterday, she told me I was going to be spanked for what I saw as some fairly minor infractions. When I pointed out that my behaviour was not that bad, so the punishment was not really "corrective" she replied, "Perhaps so, but it made me angry, and that is all that matters. This is not always about the way a punishment affects YOU. It is about me. You make me mad, and spanking you makes ME feel better. That's reason enough for you to get your ass blistered."

This all reflects a change that has been taking place in our relationship over the last year. Like many men who write these blogs, my first exposure to disciplinary spankings came through the Disciplinary Wives Club, and I was the one who asked to try the spanking lifestyle. Many of the reader comments in the DWC guestbook are from men asking "How do I get my wife to take control? How do I get her to initiate the discipline?" I was in that boat for quite some time when we first started. She was willing to give disciplinary spanking a go, but she had not internalized it as a preferred means of settling disputes and taking control.

Now, here we are a few years later, and there are now many times that I really, truly do not want to get spanked! And, that is really how it should be if what we are doing is really domestic discipline, as opposed to S&M or some other kinky sex play. I try not to preach about my views of what a DWC or DD relationship "should" or "must" be, but it does seem to me that the only way a spanking is "punishing" or "disciplinary" in any real sense is if it is something you dislike enough that you want to avoid it. Oh, I understand that there is some sexual attraction or compulsion underlying the idea of the disciplinary relationship, but it seems to me to qualify as domestic discipline, the actual act has to be painful to the point that you really, truly do not want it and hope to avoid it in the future.

Anne quickly graduated to very hard spankings early on in our relationship. What was missing, however, was both frequency and control. It has taken several years, but Anne is now frequently taking control and initiating spankings that I really do not want and try very hard to talk my way out of once ordered. The "alpha male" side of me (to refer to it as a "side" is a bit misleading, given that it permeates all but perhaps a pinky) also resents, on every level, being bossed around by this newly assertive partner. And, it scares me a bit to contemplate where this will go, now that Anne is becoming so attuned to what spanking does for her from an emotional perspective. It is no longer only about getting me to behave better. It is also about making her feel more powerful and more in control. When that becomes the impetus, less serious conduct seems to lead to more frequent punishments, because on some level she has come to like it when I break a rule, because it gives her an excuse to take me down to the basement and thrash me until she is satisfied.

There is a frustrating irony in all this. I now find myself getting exactly what I wanted -- true disciplinary spankings. But, since they are truly disciplinary, I don't want them anymore. I do need the discpline, however, so I do want them. Except when they are happening or about to happen. I do. Except when I don't.

Spanking Art for Real Men -- Real Disciplined Men

As I'm sure the few people who follow this blog have noticed, I'm not exactly a daily poster. That is because for me, this blog isn't an ode to the spanking lifestyle or even a way to communicate with other people in the DD lifestyle. It really feels more like talking to myself in a diary, and I think I probably would be keeping it even if it were a private blog. It also is not a way for me to demonstrate that I'm some kid of "authority" on domestic discipline. In fact, I deny there is such a thing as a "right" or "wrong" way to be in a DD relationship. To each their own.

Rather, I tend to write when I'm truly "of the mood," meaning that I'm posting to express something I'm feeling at the time, whether contrite, anxious, philosophical or just plain horny. What I do not feel, at least anymore, is desire to recount the details of every spanking. In fact, I think one reason for the long hiatus early this year was I got tired of recounting tediously similar stories of our latest disciplinary adventures, which really have not been that adventurous for some time now. We have now been doing this long enough--about four years, which hardly seems possilble--that our sessions tend not to be particularly novel or creative, within a range. A few weeks ago, however, I started feeling the need to express myself in some way, just to put down in words some of the things I feel about what is going on in my life, and what role discipline is currently playing in that life. It means coming a bit more clean about things like the behavior that leads to the spankings, or the pent up emotions that signal that I need one even when I don't want one.

When I'm in a mood that has caused me to want to post, I usually try to accompany my writing with a bit of artwork that fits that mood. The problem is, when it comes to depictions of men being spanked or who are about to be spanked, there really is not very much artwork out there that conveys any real mood or emotion at all. As depicted in spanking art, men have the emotional range of a teaspoon, to borrow a phrase from Hermione Granger. It's all pretty much surprise at getting caught doing something bad, or sucking up to get out of it:


Or "taking it like a man", i.e. showing no emotion whatsoever:


Or simply wailing at the top of one's lungs in protest during the actual act:


Women are treated differently in spanking art. There is emotion. Some sense that the act of being spanked isn't just about enduring physical pain.

The vulnerability of "voluntarily" taking down your pants at another's command:





How hard it is to continue to submit when told you still have more to go:


And, certainly with male spankees there is almost never a depiction of any post-spanking contemplation, and certainly no appreciation, what you just endured:


Writing this blog when having those feelings often makes me wish I could draw. Unfortunately, I can't even do stick figures. I would love to post more art that conveys some hint of how real disciplined husbands feel before, during and after offering their bottoms to the women who love them enough to discipline them. If any of my three of four readers come across anything, I would welcome the opportunity to post it. If not, I may start including more spanking art depicting women, out of necessity. And, maybe it is time for some art classes!

The Price of Success

Shortly after my last post, Anne blistered my bottom for the first time in several weeks and, I'm already due for another one this weekend. Last week's was in response to the situation I described in my most recent posting. Too much socializing, too much drink, staying out too late, etc. Guess what lead to the one I will probably be getting tonight? Same thing.

Well, the two situations were not exactly identical. Last week's bad behavior was essentially a little too much stress relief, which began as socializing with an old friend but lasted longer and resulted in a few more rounds than intended. This week's behavior was not that bad; it was part of some team building at work and involved most of my work colleagues. Therefore, to the extent my behaviour was bad, I was in good company. However, Anne has adopted her own "no tolerance" policy, partly at my request. One part of our current arrangement is that if I drink enough to feel poorly the next day, then I obviously imbibed "more than enough" and have earned an automatic session with her most terrifying implements.

As a result of last week's little "stress reduction," on Saturday night I found myself draped over a sofa in our basement, my all-too-smooth bottom high in the air. As I've written before, the one very significant problem with not getting spanked very often is that it gives your bottom time to lose its callouses and its well-earned toughness. This, however, would have been a very painful session in any event, as Anne had decided I really needed a strong lesson. While she used only two implements, her bathbrush and the lexan paddle, she struck over and over with each, and every swing meant serious business. I did not cry (I still haven't broken through that barrier) but I was howling with every strike and praying she would take mercy on my blistered behind. It was bad enough that I still felt the effects sitting at work several days later.

Which brings us to my second night of bad behavior in as many weeks. I have tried to explain to Anne that I really didn't drink all that much this time, and that I was home at reasonably decent hour. In her mind, however, the behaviour still merits strong discipline if for no other reason that my last night of carousing happened less than a week before so, if I did it again so soon after her last session, then she must not have done it hard enough last time to get her point across.

I was thinking about this yesterday in terms of why I do something I know is going to earn me a serious session that will leave me bruised and sitting uncomfortably for days, especially when the blahs I feel a day after partying too late are bad enough by themselves that one would think I would be more restrained. While some will undoutedly say I doth protest too much on this point, I am comfortabe in my own mind that I don't have a drinking problem, in terms of an excessive desire for alcohol. Most days, I don't drink at all, while most of our friends have at least a glass of wine with dinner. And, I almost never drink at home, even when watching a game on television. The primary driver of most of my drinking is simply this -- work and social drinking that seems to go so naturally with climbing the corporate ladder. I know that social drinking is not a strictly necessary prerequisite to a successful career, but it undeniable does lubricate the gears of corporate life and, in some professions it is deeply engrained to the point of tradition. Without meaning to brag, I have risen faster than many of my peers, but I have no illusions regarding my relative merits. I am very good at what I do, but there are people out there who are as good or better. Too many of them believe naively, however, that brains and hard work are enough. In most cases, they simply aren't. Forming relationships is also a key ingredient and,, like it or not, a night of team building over several glasses of wine was probably more important to my future success as any tangible work product I generated last week.

So, this is quite the Catch-22 I have created for myself,. I have asked Anne to discipline me in order to help me put the brakes on when I encounter an opportunity to over-indulge, yet I know that having that "one last round" with colleagues is going to happen from time to time or, if doesn't, I may not form relationships that could be helpful to me in the months and years ahead.

For Anne's part, I think she wishes she could come to the the office and give those who tempt her husband to bad acts a taste of what she gives me.

Repentant

It has been a very long time since my last post (obviously). For the last several months, we have been caught up in a whirlwind of change. New job. New house in a new city. And, there has not been much to write about, at least in terms of real spankings. Unfortunately, the lack of discipline has been showing up in my behavior, and also in the way I feel inside. I feel out of control, and to a large extent I miss being under Anne's control. I woke up this morning feeling awful after drinking too much with a friend last night, something that has been happening a little too often lately. It's not that I've been needing to drink or that I have have a problem with it. Rather, it's been too easy to socialize a bit too much in the name of getting to know people in the new job, broaden my professional network, etc. I just feel like I need some boundaries right now.

I also just lost interest in the blog for awhile, but the lack of interest feels like another symptom of a life out of balance. I am a relentless consumer, especially of words and entertaintment. Newspapers. Magazines. Television. Books. Lots of books. What I don't do is create anything. This blog was the only creative outlet I had, and for several months I stopped doing even that. I don't know whether I'll keep it up, but I do feel the need right now to do something, anything, that is about creating instead of consuming.