The mornings are getting darker. This weekend the clocks go back for the winter, in England. So that means that tomorrow morning we get "an extra hour" in bed. Sadly we will soon get used to it and will lose the benefit. I also hate the fact that the nights will seem so much longer.
This morning I got up quite early for a Friday. It was far too cold to dash downstairs without a robe. I stamped my feet whilst waiting for the kettle to boil. I noticed that Dan had bought in a supply of "luxury drinking chocolate" in readiness for the evenings ahead.
It's strange how we both view drinking chocolate with on-coming colder weather.
I took Dan a "Gingernut" biscuit with his tea. Gingernuts are his favourite "everyday" biscuit. They are probably the only biscuits you can "dunk" in boiling hot drinks, that don't fall apart; they hold their shape beautifully. (Nothing better than dunking biscuits!)
I also dropped a heap of large envelopes containing cards on the bed between us, and started to sing, sotto voce, an old song by the Beatles before sidling up to Dan and rubbing his right foot with my left.
Dan finished his tea and put the mug down carefully on his bedside table, before pulling me over his lap. I sooooo love skin to skin spankings. They are the best, but I was soon sent to fetch the Little Nipper. I did protest at first that everyone else's husbands got the implements themselves, but Dan immediately lifted his eyebrows at me.
"I like the Nipper. My arm doesn't get tired using it and I like the patterns I can make with it."
Ha!
I resettled myself and he began with a warm up that didn't seem nearly long enough.
"Are we counting yet?" I enquired after he had planted at least eleven snappy swats on my chilly and tender flesh.
"No, you can start now," he replied.
"One, two, three, four...."
"....twenty three, twenty four, twenty five...."
"....Ow! Ow! Ow!....thirty seven, Ow! thirty eight, Ow! thirty nine..."
"Fifty...Dan, oh God, Dan!, Ow! fifty one...."
"Stop, stop, stop. I can't, ouch! stop! Ow!"
"Oh bugger!"
"Too high, too high!"
"And one to grow on." Splat!
"Stupid custom! You really thought I would want a birthday spanking?!"
"Oh, ouch, it feels so hot to touch!" I gingerly rub my bottom and wriggle upwards to be pulled in for a long and loving birthday kiss.
"Happy Birthday, Dan," I tell him.
I really believe I may have taken submission to a new and higher level. After all, how many wives take their husbands birthday spankings for them?
"When it comes to a spanking in this house, you are going to be the only recipient," I am told in no uncertain terms.
Just when you think it's safe to sit down again....along comes Dan and moves the goalposts.
"Right, I need to get up and get on. The sun is shining and you are lounging around and looking far too comfortable."
I try to hide under the duvet and block my ears. For two pins I would start to sing 'La la la la la' as well.
I grumpily put out a hand and press the light-up button on the clock on my side of the bed. It informs me that it is 7 o'clock.
"Dan, it is Sunday morning, I have been awake since 6 tossing and turning and listening to you snore, and now you have woken up you think I should be awake as well. Why do you always do this?"
I risk a quick glance and he is grinning at me in a very smug fashion.
"Tea?" he asks.
Humph!
I flounce up and open the bedroom door meaning to weave my way (I am not yet properly awake) down the corridor.
"You're not going downstairs like that are you?" Dan calls to my back.
"Oh for goodness sake!"
I weave my way back and retrieve my robe, shrugging into it as I retrace my steps again along to the top of the stairs.
It's barely light and the sun is only just creeping above the tops of the cypresses that line the back boundary. I yawn as I am waiting for the kettle to boil.
I love this ritual of ours of sitting in bed chatting with each other and drinking hot morning drinks. Dan says it is good to be able to relax and communicate at the same time. It's just that when I am still sleepy I find the communication a bit tiresome as my eyelids will keep falling closed.
Dan is stroking my left thigh meditatively and I wonder whether it might be a prelude to something more. But not the 'more' I had in mind apparently.
As I start to snuggle more into him he gives me a couple of quick, slappy swats and says
"Time for a spanking I think. Just fetch me the Little Nipper."
I glare. "Can't you fetch it? Other husbands go fetch their own implements?"
Another swat.
"I am not other husbands." Swat. "Hurry up, I've got to get the leaf blower out."
"What? On a Sunday?
"Well, with S over the road already pressure-washing his horsebox, I don't think they will be worried about a bit of noise."
I reluctantly get up and fetch the wretched wooden spatula and hand it to him. Then as I am about to climb over his lap he says
"Oh no. Today you can lean over the footboard. I haven't got time for hanky panky this morning. We used to use the footboard a lot. Somehow it's escaped my notice that we no longer seem to use it."
"The wood isn't very comfortable to lean over" I remind him.
He folds the patchwork quilt in half and hands it to me.
"Put this over the footboard."
This was not the type of Sunday morning I had hoped for.
Dan stands to one side and waits for me to lean over the end of the bed. He starts to raise the spatula and I leap up and go and collect a pillow which I place strategically - I place my hands under it and bury my face in it. Something tells me that I am going to need it, although fortunately Dan starts by rubbing my bottom, which feels quite soothing.
Then he starts to spank with his hand, not the spatula. It is not very hard and I lean into it feeling frissons of excitement. Hmmm. This isn't so bad.
SWAT!
SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! SWAT!
Okay! So that's not so soothing! He has changed to the spatula and the swats are coming fast and furious.
I am very glad my hands are under the pillow and I do my best to keep quiet, but it doesn't work. I go up on my toes, determined to keep my feet on the floor, but not very hopeful of succeeding.
"Do you realise that this is three times in a week?" Dan asks conversationally.
"Oh, shit, ow!" is my reply. "Dan!"
I crane my neck round and Dan grins evilly.
"I seem to remember you mentioning once or twice that you thought I was spanking too high?"
"Ye'ouch!"
My feet are still on the floor - my toes at any rate, but my body hinges at the waist and I try to shoot upright.
"Oh no you don't" Dan pushes me back down, swatting for England.
"Can you feel it?"
"Of course I can bloody feel it!" I spring up again.
He pushes me down again.
"Is this low enough for you?"
I don't have very much padding on my behind, stomach yes, but behind no.
SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! SWAT!
It becomes a battle between me trying to stand up and Dan trying to keep me back down.
We are both exhausted, and my sit spots feel like they are getting ready to emigrate to safer climes.
In the end Dan is laughing too much to continue. I stand up warily and go to survey the damage in the full length mirror.
This part of me isn't used to such energy being directed at it. My sit spots and the very tops of my thighs are a brilliant red and there are little dime (10p) sized spots that are much darker and look suspiciously like small bruises.
I stand and rub vigorously and look at Dan accusingly.
"Do the other women you talk to on your blog act like Jack-in-a-boxes?" he asks. The evil grin is still there.
He exits the bedroom and I follow him with my robe still lifted where I am continuing to rub.
If anyone ever dares to mention chickens coming home to roost, I will have a tantrum on the spot!
As far as I can recollect, no-one has ever addressed the issue of trust in any of the blog posts I have read since starting blogging nearly two years ago.
It's often mentioned, and people skirt around and all over the issue, but somehow it seems to have slipped through the net. So I thought I would try to get people thinking about it and what trust means to them in relation to submission.
I can't speak for other people, but I have my own ideas on what it should mean to trust your husband/partner/other half/soulmate. (I'll stick to husband, but it's only because I can't keep typing that lot.)
I'm being completely truthful when I say I trust Dan with my life and beyond. In fact, when a half a ton of horse came down on the left side of my face and head, he proved himself to be the best knight in shining armour ever! He literally saved my life.
But where does trust feature in TTWD/DD?
Lay yourself nude or half nude across your husband's lap, the end of the bed, or a sofa arm, and ensure he has one or more implements to hand with which to remind you of your shortcomings.
How much do you need to trust him?
It's easy to say "100%", but what if he is angry or annoyed, or very unnerved and scared about something you have done? Can you still trust him?
This is why it is so very important for this dynamic to be consensual.
This is not the land of stories and make believe. It is real life, and in real life people get mad and or scared, particularly when something happens that concerns the one they love the most.
A small scenario:
Way back just before I actually asked to be spanked, I used to go to Burlesque Dancing classes.
(And yes, we dance with fans and chairs and feather boas!)
They were once a week between 6 and 8pm and they were the best thing ever, even if I did nearly break my neck several times trying to dance in high stilettos. Dan didn't object to me going at all - but he did object to the fact that the dance studio was on the Docks, and the car park was several hundred yards away from the building. It basically meant that I walked to and from the studio in unusually risque apparel with scant covering in the summer months and just an overcoat in the winter months.
I know that sounds weird, but our Docks are mostly old warehouses converted into luxury loft style apartments, or modern apartment blocks with balconies overlooking the water. Down below are little bistros, bars and restaurants. It's an up and coming area.
But in Dan's mind, docks are docks.
It was fine in the summer, but in the winter with the dark nights and infrequent street lamps, the area where the dance studio is located, was at that time very dark and spooky indeed as there were still two old warehouses awaiting conversion, and I had to walk past them.
One night I just happened to go for a drink afterwards with a dancing friend. We sat, wrapped in our coats, at an outside table overlooking the water and ate some tapas and drank some very nice wine.
I told my friend I had to 'report in' to my husband. Unfortunately I had left my mobile phone at home sitting on the counter in the kitchen. So I borrowed my friend's phone and duly rang him. It went straight to Voicemail. So I left a message, saying where I was and who I was with, and that was that.
Or so I thought.
But it wasn't. When I arrived home there was nearly a search party out for me. Not only was Dan going off his head, but our son was standing right at his shoulder giving me grief as well. I was totally stunned. Neither of them would listen to my excuses, and Dan was furious I had left my phone at home as well as walked back on my own to the car park past the dark warehouses. He went on and on for the rest of the evening.
We had such a row that I slammed the door and went off to bed shouting that they were victimising me.
Of course, now I know how desperately worried Dan must have been, and I also know how he would deal with such a situation if it happened these days. Would I do such a thing these days? I very much doubt it!
However, what I am trying to do is to show how, because they love us so much, our husbands can sometimes go overboard with their reactions to a situation. Thus, how much are we able to trust them?
I know that I would probably not be able to sit for several days if that scenario happened now. My spanking the other week would pale in comparison. It makes me shudder to think about it.
So. Am I submissive because I want to avoid punishment, or am I submissive because I want to please my husband and keep him happy?
Is there a difference? Am I being controlling if I try very hard to keep out of trouble and be a goody two shoes all the time?
Personally I think there is all the difference in the world in trying to avoid a hard spanking and doing things because you love your husband and want to please him and make your life good together.
But unless you truly let go, grit your teeth and trust, you will never completely submit.
I was chatting recently with a friend. We have always been honest and upfront with each other. She never offends me, and I hope I never offend her, although I know that other people have sometimes been worried that we seem almost rude to each other. Not the case. I very much value her opinion because of her honesty.
She said that she thought I was one of the most submissive people she knew, and that I was probably naturally submissive. She thought I would completely disagree with her.
A year ago I would have. But now?
The world has turned and the road has widened. I now know that there are lots of other people walking along this road who have problems the same as Dan and I, even if they are different problems.
I am still not sure I like the word submission; I much prefer the word surrender.
But somewhere along the way, over the past year, I have thrown away that remote control with the button that had Dan's name on it, and now I let the chips fall where they may.
I know that even if Dan gets angry or scared with/about me, he will never go over the top.
He will most certainly give me the type of rosy glow you can warm your frozen hands on in the depths of winter. He will most certainly ensure I feel the burn/sting/soreness for a day or days to come. He will most certainly leave a few marks or even bruises on my posterior, as a reminder.
But he will never ever cause me harm.
He will always stop when he perceives me to have had enough. He will never spank just for the sake of it. He will never threaten me or mistreat me or make me feel subservient.
I trust him completely.
I trust him never to break that trust.
I surrender to him.
