My Need for Speed

Starman and I like driving fast.  It's a truth we know about each other.  We always drive up to the speed limit, and I freely admit that I am known for exceeding it whenever possible.  We love fast cars with powerful engines.  We love the sound of the revs, the instant acceleration, the feeling of of being in charge of all that horsepower.  YES! - THE FEELING OF BEING IN CONTROL!

His car is sleek and black with leather seats.  It literally plasters you to those seats when you put your foot down.  So you have to know what you are doing.  It's not the sort of car you drive with your eyes shut.

My car is old but practical, and very tough.  It can go through mud, floods and snowy conditions like a knife through butter.  It creaks and groans, and has a tendency to buck you all over the place.  I rarely exceed 65 mph even on a motorway.

Mine is used all the time.  It is the good old work-horse of the family.  His is the beautiful 'pose-mobile' that stays mostly in the cart lodge.

So what am I leading up to?  I think it's the word 'CONTROL'.

It's been talked about a great deal in Blogland this last few days.  I noticed it's as if someone has thrown a stone into a pool, and the ripples are growing in intensity hour by hour.  But I've noticed that the way we all approach control and what we do with control, is very different.

I find it interesting to observe what people do with control when it is freely given to them.  And how control can be manipulated, twisted, with-held and even denied.

I'm not going to criticise anyone here about control issues - but I am going to use the word as a springboard for discussion.  Believe me, Starman and I have had very many control issues of our own recently.  Believe me, if you asked me to compare you and us as the tortoise and the hare, you would all be the hare streaking away towards the winning post, and we would not only be the tortoise, but we would be stopped off for lunch and a nap half way through the race!

So I am going to ask you something - 

the Carrot or...

the Stick?

I can't speak for others.  We are still wading about in the shallows.  But I think that when you give your control to someone, both you and they, are walking a very fine line.

Starman and I had a run-in with the HH this morning.  It's probably the most severe spanking I've had so far.  You've all been there and you all know what it's like.  Suffice to say that for the first time ever, I am having difficulty sitting on anything.  And no, it was most definitely not a punishment or even a disciplinary spanking.  It was simply Starman taking control of a situation and ensuring that I understood that 51% means exactly that!  

And it was the very word 'Control' that led to the intensity of this spanking.

We have been reasonably content this week, except that Starman has been away for several days, and I've missed his closeness in bed at night more than I can say.

We've had no 'snippiness' or disagreement since he got home.  (Except I did eat rather a large slice of cake yesterday afternoon and he actually RAISED AN  EYEBROW AT ME! and there's me thinking he couldn't do that!)  

"Oh I can Ami, believe me I can" he told me.

There was no opportunity to catch up and 'maintain' our closeness on Thursday, too much was going on.  So it happened that this morning it was Starman who got up and brought me my coffee.  We lay companionably chatting about everything from the price of heating oil to what sort of curtains would be suitable over the arched window in the bedroom.  

He made no mention of spanking or anything else.  So I lay on my side, half turned away from him, my eyes shut, happily enjoying a 'lie in'.  I felt his hand move and then he was tweaking a nipple.  It was at that point that I moved away from him - and he froze.  

"What are you doing?" he asked.  

"Nothing" I replied.  

He thought about it for a minute then he said "Well, I'll get up then and go find some breakfast."

"Humph" I muttered, and wriggled back against him trying to get him to change his mind.

"Well you seem to be refusing me" he stated.

"No I'm not."

"Well what do you want then?  You certainly moved away!"

I wriggled again, a bit uncomfortable.

"I think you  know what I want" I told him.  "But if I have to tell you, or remind you all the time, it feels as if I am the one in the driving seat.  And I don't want to be.  I want you to be able to decide for me, what I want, what I need."

"But Ami, by saying that, you have immediately tried to take control haven't you?"

"But..."

"No.  You know I'm right.  You automatically assumed that I had forgotten about something.  You didn't wait to see what would come next.  What would follow on.  You felt you had to 'remind me'."

I thought about it.

"You're right.  It's just that last time, which is now nearly a week ago, you said we ought to do this a little more often.  And we haven't...."  I trailed off.

"But I was four  hours' drive away you silly woman.  It doesn't mean I forget these things."  He finished his tea.  "Let's get this done!  Go make a choice!"

I knew what he meant.  I crept out of bed and to the chest of drawers, my heart thudding.  

It is at this point that I have to come out and tell you that I think I am a fledgling "spanko".  I've suspected it for some time.  It wasn't planned.  It's just grown organically, and taken me so much by surprise that I still feel quite embarrassed and uncomfortable to make such an admission.  All I know is that I not only need to be spanked, I want to be spanked.  I enjoy to be spanked.  

The anticipation, the feel of skin on skin as I lay across his lap, the choosing of an implement (of ass destruction?!), the questions/lecture, the rubbing and kneading, the warm up, the fierce sting, the burning, even the tears.  I love it all.  There, I've said it.  

But I trust him not to go too far.  I trust him to decide when he thinks I've had enough, or to continue until I reach that point.  I trust him to know exactly how long, how much and how hard. 

He reminded me that four months ago we had never done this.  I had brought this to him; and suddenly he feels so much more of an expert than me.  Yet he stubbornly refuses to read any of the blogs (although he is happy for me to do so) so all this has been learned week by week.  I find it incredible.  

It'll probably be a long time till I am spanked with the intensity of some other people around Blogland, but to me, each spanking is different.  Each spanking serves a slightly different purpose, and leads us slightly further on our journey.  

So back to me getting the HH from the other side of the bedroom.  We both laughed at my reluctance.  I want it, yet I don't.  I hop from foot to foot contemplating it sitting there next to my scent bottles and nail polish.

And then I pick it up, holding it between finger and thumb, out in front and virtually toss it towards him.  And he throws it up and down a couple of times and brushes my nipples with it, the rat!  So I giggle uncontrollably.

"Come on, stop fooling about" he says.  "Over you go."

Huh!

I'm nervous, but he warms up my bottom with his hand, and does a lot of rubbing.  I would purr if I could, although I am still poised for the fight or flight reflex.  The swats get harder and I grab a pillow to hide my face (and chew if necessary).  Then a fierce fierce pain on my right cheek followed by a fierce fierce pain on my left cheek.

"No pleasure without pain" I can hear the grin coming through his voice.

"I don't need reminding every week" he enforces each word with a smack.

"I don't want to remind you" I gasp "but I never know whether you will remember or not."

"Oh I remember" he assured me.

"I do think this has helped us hasn't it?  Don't you think I'm better for it?  We're better for it?"  It's now hard to talk, especially with my face buried, and I'm reaching my limit.

"I do think so.  But you have to remember that I am the one who makes the decisions.  You have to let go of this need to remind me all the time.  Do you understand?  "You have to stop controlling me!"

I gasp out a "Yes I do understand".  And I'm wondering not when, but if, this is going to stop.  I cry harder.

Magically Starman notices.  "That's it for now" he says.  "I don't like it when you cry even if you say you're all right.  I still can't get my head around it."

I don't help this time, because I can't stop and I crawl up and on to his lap curling myself around him and wincing. I never understand why I feel so good after a performance like this.  But it's true, and we cuddle and I feel very much loved, which I know is a cliche, but it doesn't matter at this point in time.  And we then move on to other things, even though my butt is desperately sore.  For me, it's a good kind of 'sore'.

So what conclusions can I draw from all of this?

I suppose to start with is the realisation that we may not practise the traditional type of Dd, but that, for us, it is good, and it enriches our relationship.  Starman is beginning to forge ahead in the same way he drives his car.  Quiet smooth acceleration that is not above plastering me back against my seat.  He doesn't need me to be a 'backseat driver'.  He's a 'big boy' now.

My car is old and dependable; it will weather stormy waters and survive the occasional icy blast.  It can never compete with Starman's car for speed or comfort, but has good endurance.  It lives in the cart lodge side by side with the 'pose-mobile'.  It is well maintained, shampooed and polished regularly, and is very happy to be there.  

The weight of control is finally slipping off my shoulders and Starman is taking it up.  We are not a conventional couple when it comes to our approach, but we have always been lateral thinkers.  I don't see any overnight changes in getting to grips with this increasingly complex dynamic.  But for us it is working.  And for the most part, we are enjoying the journey.

And 'Carrot' or 'Stick'?  (it's a hazel switch by the way!).  Well, I'll take a carrot any day of the week.  But sometimes, I realise I have to let Starman decide whether or not to use the stick.  

And furthermore, the answer is an emphatic no - I am far to wimpy to even consider using a switch yet.  I would never say never, but the HH is all that's needed to help a recalcitrant Ami along the road!

And even furthermore, I read Starman's horoscope out to him at breakfast.  It said "Ideas that you have at this time, should give you the solution to dealing with a difficult loved one.  You've been allowing yourself to be led, when you are actually a leader.  Rectify this!"