Do you have a best friend?
I have a couple of them.
One of them lives a long way away from us, but we have been friends all our lives, since around the age of two when we played in the same sandpit together. We both attended the same 'senior school', which was a convent.
We were often taken as sisters by the younger girls who did not know us. We both met our husbands at the tender age of sixteen, except that my friend was married by the age of twenty, and I didn't marry until five years after that. We are both still wonderfully, happily married to the same men, and our husbands are great friends too.
The other friend lives a short distance across the fields from me, and we have known each other for over thirty years.
We see each other about once a week, though we do not fret if we go a week or two without seeing each other - lives are busy and events get in the way. Her middle son and our son are best friends, and her son is to be our son's best man when he marries next year. This friend was married a couple of years earlier than us and is still wonderfully and happily married. Our husbands are great friends as well.
These friends are both very different from me in temperament. They are both pretty well laid back, and only very rarely get their feathers ruffled or their knickers in a twist. Whereas I am like a glowing ember that springs into flame on a regular basis.
Thankfully less often now than before, but which nevertheless needs repeatedly dampening down for my own good.
My friends and I share many likes and dislikes. We have similar hobbies. The first friend used to ride with me every weekend during our younger days, whilst my friend from across the fields and I rode our horses together for about twenty years, and encouraged our children to ride, although only our daughters enjoyed it. Our sons preferred tractors and other interesting machinery.
When I am with either of my friends, I never need that fire dampening down. In fact, I can say, hand on heart, that I have never fallen out with them, nor had an argument or bad word in all the years we have known each other.
Does this mean we agree with everything we say to each other? Hell, no! But we agree to disagree. Hence there is never any disharmony between us.
We are always there for each other, to listen, discuss and give opinions. Always there through joy and sorrow, to celebrate and support. Always there during good times and bad.
Why, therefore, is it so difficult to have this type of calm and harmonious relationship with one's nearest and dearest, namely one's husband?
I wonder? Is it because we love too much?
When you are with another person 24/7 you notice every little deviation from the path you are walking together. In fact, that path is fraught with obstacles lying in wait to trip you up and cause disharmony.
You are two entirely different people, sometimes having very little in common apart from the fact that you love each other, and little do you realise when you say the words "I will" what those words mean.
Sometimes when I look back at this long and winding journey through life Dan and I have taken, it knocks me sideways how fast the years have flown.
Dan and I had a very long engagement. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone as it was far too long - five years - but it was most definitely our boot camp. It was during that time we learned to stop being self-obsessed individuals and to become a loving and tolerant couple, showing concern, consideration, and above all learning to cherish each other.
If I had to choose another word for love it would be cherish.
Our journey into TTWD has not been an easy one.
Instead of a journey the length of Africa, it has turned into a journey that circumnavigates the globe ten times at least.
We thought we knew each other inside out. We didn't. We are still on a voyage of discovery - enthralling and exciting.
A week after my last spanking, I got another significant spanking.
In fact, to me, it was more significant than the previous one.
We have a great many stresses in our lives at the moment, and I have done nothing but moan about them all till you must be running for the hills.
Dan went for an MRI to check whether his cancers are keeping stable, or whether they have started to grow again. I was unable to go with him, as I was in bed with a bad chill. But it was in the week leading up to this MRI that my embers became a blaze to contend with.
Dan was, understandably, getting anxious and worked up about his forthcoming visit to the London hospital where he is on a cancer trial.
He was being a BEAR. In every way.
Nothing I said or did suited him. He was black to my white till he had me seething.
It culminated with him going off on a short business trip and staying away for two nights. The first night because he had to be with his client by 9 in the morning and it was too far to travel, and the second night because he finished late and knew he would be too tired to drive all the way home.
The day he set off to drive up north was a Sunday. He asked me to have lunch ready so that he could leave by 2pm and not have to travel in the dark.
Everything went wrong that morning. He needed to get some last minute things done on the computer and the internet went peculiar; he couldn't find a favourite shirt; our son asked him for some help with some an accounting issue and got growled at; he found a bill that should have been paid and had been forgotten; my car battery went dead and the tyres on one side were nearly flat (slow leaks) requiring pumping up. The list was endless. All I could hear was Dan swearing, and see blue air everywhere.
In the end he decided to not bother with lunch, and to set off even earlier. He was clanging around and grumbling and swearing right up till he left.
And then he went off without saying goodbye to me.
For me, this is a major thing.
We always say goodbye and give each other a quick kiss, and when we meet up again we always kiss each other 'Hello".
What a morning. I just sat and wept. "Who'd be married?" I thought.
That evening he phoned to say he was safely where he should be, and he promised to ring the next day. He sounded in a better mood, and he did ring back briefly the next evening after work saying that he would see me early afternoon the next day but would call me before he set out.
He didn't.
No matter. I was keeping one eye on the clock and was really looking forward to him coming home.
When we were apart a great deal in the past, it didn't seem to matter. I took over the reins quite capably, and there were rarely any problems.
Now it does matter. I hate it when we are apart. I get downright unsettled.
The clock ticked round and round and suddenly it was 3.30pm and still no Dan, and no phone call.
About that time I spoke to Minelle on the phone.
"I'm not having a good week with Dan" I told her. We are rubbing each other the wrong way all the time. I may even decide to fly out and stay with you for a bit."
Her Scotsman was having a tantrum over something in the background.
She suggested that we maybe ought to go off on a short holiday together and leave our men to it.
This is marriage. This is what it is all about. Ups and downs. Nothing worth having is ever easily come by. Don't let anyone ever tell you different.
When 5pm came I heard the car coming up the gravel drive. I was in the sitting room sipping a large latte and I had almost worn a track in the carpet pacing up and down. And yes, I had tried to phone him and his stupid phone kept going to Voicemail!
He nonchalantly walked in and behaved as if nothing was wrong and the world was rosy.
I was nearly in tears. I could've happily strangled him.
You would have thought that I would've got at least a hug that night in bed.
No.
He came to bed late, then proceeded to drop asleep and snore his head off. By 2.30am I lost it. I switched on the light, got up, grabbed my bedside glass of water, my hot water bottle, my pillow and the clock, and strode angrily down the passageway to the spare room slamming doors as I went.
Bloody, bloody man! Bloody, bloody snoring! Bloody, bloody, bloody.....!!!
The next day was the day we look after our grandbaby all day, and pick the older one up from his little school. So busy, busy, busy.
Dan continued to be a bear when he wasn't being a loving grandad.
My flames continued to burn, wildly and out of control.
Even our son was getting fed up with his father's attitude.
Friday morning we had a joint dental appointment and had to be up quite early and off to our nearest large town. The afternoon sped by and then it was Saturday.
Hmmmm......
We were still at odds with each other.
I went and fetched our morning drinks, standing them by our sides of the bed and drew back the curtains on both windows. Dan moaned and turned over, pulling the duvet up to his eyebrows.
The phone went. It was the little man who comes on a Saturday to help with general tasks, especially the garden. He has been coming for donkey's years and started out by washing our cars and just sort of progressed. He is hilarious. Salt of the earth. We just couldn't do without him.
He was unable to come. Great.
I put down the phone and Dan was sitting up drinking slurping his tea. I gave him the news.
"Never mind. We can take things easy for a change."
Ha!
I sat stiffly and seethingly against the headboard and sipped my coffee, watching the wind in the pines outside our window.
When I had finished I snuggled down again for a few more precious minutes.
After a while, Dan joined me.
He reached out to stroke my bottom. He hadn't done that in over a week, and I was very pissed off with him and flinched away.
"So that's how it's going to be, is it?" he asked me.
"Too right" I snorted. Then I went on to explain exactly how I felt. Communication, right? No use starting an argument before he knew what he was meant to be arguing about.
I started with him not stroking my bottom when he came to bed, went on to him having a dicky fit before driving off up north, and finished with him not contacting me to let me know if he was in the land of the living or not, and just coming home when he felt like it.
I had reached that singular stage where you simply no longer care whether what you say sounds respectful or not.
"I think you better fetch an implement" he told me gravely.
The tears started running quietly down my cheeks as I got up and went across to our chest of drawers. I am one of these unfortunate people whose conscience goes into overdrive the minute unkind words leave my mouth.
"Bring the paddle" he said.
I got the leather paddle from the drawer and silently returned to bed.
I knew I was about to get another whaler of a spanking. I deserved it. I would never speak to my friends like I had just spoken to my husband. I felt awful.
Dan's mouth was a tight line. He helped me across his lap and pulled up my nightie around my waist. The sub-arctic temperature in our bedroom hit my skin like like an icy blast. How they went knickerless years ago beats me. They were surely made of sturdier stuff than we are today. Or maybe more of them died of pneumonia than is public knowledge.
His left hand rested upon my lower back and his right hand rested on my bottom. I pushed my face into the duvet and gritted my teeth waiting for the warm-up. Or perhaps he felt I didn't deserve a warm-up.
But nothing happened.
Instead, Dan rubbed and squeezed my bottom very gently before starting to talk.
He apologised to me completely and unreservedly for being a Bear.
He had known how he was acting, yet he couldn't seem to stop himself. He had known he was hurting the one who loved him and cared for him the best, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. He had known on that Sunday that he was throwing a tantrum a two year old could've been proud of, but he couldn't seem to stop himself.
All the time he kept stroking my bottom. Eventually, after accepting his apologies, and apologising myself for my bad attitude, and explaining how sad and unloved and neglected I had felt, I asked him to spank me.
The spanking that followed was probably the best, longest, sexiest and most satisfying spanking I have ever had. So was the loving that followed afterwards.
I think the best word would be tender. He was so tender towards me that I never wanted it to stop.
I don't know how much longer we would've lay there entwined if the phone hadn't rang with his mother on the other end saying she was going to drop in for a coffee on her way back from town.
That got us on the move. We felt like naughty teenagers who'd been caught making out. Well, at least part of it was true. But at 11 o'clock on a Saturday morning? Hmmm.....
The very most significant thing to come out of this was that Dan apologised.
So often this part of DD or TTWD is glossed over. The man cannot possibly be wrong; or if he is, you get spanked anyway and tough, this was what you agreed in the first place.
No.
There are two people in a marriage. Both of them can be wrong, not just one of them. The strength of love and maturity is in admitting when you are wrong, and saying 'Sorry'.
So I had my spanking, and whatever went before it was laid to rest as with any other spanking.
The road once again stretches out before us.
Whatever lies along it we will meet together.
(Just to let you know - we go to London for the MRI results on 4th February.)
It's interesting how different, yet how similar many of our men are.
It doesn't matter how many thoughts I have on the matter, Dan sticks in his toes and firmly resists being advised on exactly how an HOH should act.
He is firmly fixed on going his own way, and nothing I read out to him, or suggest to him influences his way of thinking.
He is not impulsive. Sometimes I long for him to be impulsive, but he continues to resist. Yet whenever I am confident about a set factor in our version of TTWD, he moves the goalposts.
A case in fact, and I refer you here to Meredith from 'A New Twist...' (who started it all) is the opening of the can of worms.
Happily discussing the power ratio in our household, I never dreamed it was going to get me spanked the way it did.
I always assumed (never assume - it makes an ass out of u and me! Truly!) that we were 51% and 49%, the lower number being me. We have always been a partnership, and there has been no reason to change it - it works for us.
Not so apparently.
I leaned in around the doorway whilst Dan was engaged in editing a work document,
and happily expounded on my thoughts re our lives together since commencing TTWD.
"...so I like to think of us as 51% and 49%", I told him.
I failed to see the warning signs.
The tensed shoulders, the slight lifting of an eyebrow, the slow intake of breath before he swivelled his chair around to face me.
"Oh I don't think so."
"What do you mean you don't think so? We always discuss everything. You always make the end decision."
"Is that what you think?"
"Yes." My heart was beginning to hammer a little uncomfortably. This wasn't feeling right.
"I would have thought it a lot different."
"Oh?"
"Well, sometimes it seems about 60:40, and the 40 refers to me."
I felt quite taken aback.
"Oh, come on. You're joking. I'm really good these days."
"Are you?"
I began to feel testy. "Yes, I think I am. I don't hound you or nag the way I used to."
"No?"
"No I don't." Dan was still sitting regarding me with narrowed eyes.
"So give me an example, then. I bet you can't."
Wrong thing to say. Very wrong.
"All right, since you asked me. What about the TV controls?"
"What about them?"
"I'm sick of the way you just barge in and take over."
"Excuse me. I do not."
"Oh yes you do. You sit at that computer emailing with your friends. Then when you've finished, you wander into the lounge, pick up the paper and scan it, and then swoop down on the TV controls and change the channel. Without a bye or leave. It doesn't matter that I am half way through a programme. You couldn't care less."
"Dan, how can you say that? I never change the channel unless you are asleep. You sit there with the control tightly clasped in your little mitt and snore your head off."
"Ami, you always change the channel. You never ask. You don't care whether I am asleep or not. If it doesn't suit you, you refuse to watch it."
"Well I am certain I don't. You've got it very wrong. How can I when you always have the bloody controls?"
I flounced off to sort out the laundry. I was on my high horse and not happy the way the conversation was going. Best to busy myself than to have an all-out row.
The day drifted past full of household chores, phone calls and the odd caller, like my friend from across the fields who called frothing at the mouth and bemoaning the fact that she just needed a short break away from her husband before he drove her up the wall. Just an hour to herself. Humph! (She is very funny - this happens on a six monthly basis. Her husband is definitely the dominant partner, but every now and then she rebels. They've been married coming up for 40 years and we've been friends for 32 of those. But since they both retired she says he does have the tendency to get under her feet. Hmmm. I'll reserve comment.)
By evening I had forgotten the conversation between Dan and I. After clearing away the supper things, and stacking the dishwasher, I gave the kitchen a perfunctory tidy up and sat at the computer to check my emails. I answered the couple that were there, and then closed down the computer and decided to join Dan in the lounge.
As usual he was asleep, making soft little snoring noises.
The TV was playing to itself, a programme about car restoration.
I glanced at the TV programme guide and saw that there was a programme on about 'Antiques in the Attic'. It didn't even occur to me what I was doing. I just strode quietly across the room, bent over and gently tried to remove the TV control from Dan's left hand.
Strangely I had trouble prising his fingers off it.
After trying fruitlessly for a while I decided that I had to use a little more strength.
I looked up and nearly leapt out of my skin.
Dan was regarding me through narrowed eyes that were gleaming quite unnervingly.
I backed away rapidly.
"Caught you!"
"But you were asleep. You were snoring."
"Is that what you thought?"
Dan's eyes were still narrowed but now he was sitting up.
Remembering, suddenly, our conversation from the morning, I wisely kept quiet.
"You were bloody well going to change the channel."
"But only because I thought you were asleep."
"I happened to be resting my right eye."
(As if!!!)
"I was really enjoying how they repaired the engine on that old E-type." The eye wasn't resting now. It was glaring at me with full strength.
"Go and sit down. You can read the paper, read your Kindle, do the crossword. But you are NOT changing the channel."
The better part of valour had me obeying, very quietly indeed. This was not something I was going to push.
I got out my quilting and sat sewing,
and watching TV reasonably companionably with Dan, till bedtime.
Fast forward to the morning.
Dan woke me by stroking my bottom.
I lay curled into him. I was warm as toast, which was more than you could say for the temperature in the bedroom. There was a severe frost outside. A gleaming, sparkly white world. Brrrr!
However, I wasn't too tired to react and arched my back and purred. I could feel Dan felt amorous and I was quite happy to oblige.
Then, SWAT!
"I think it's time you had a spanking, don't you?"
"Hmmm." I stretched languorously. What a nice start to the day, I was thinking.
"Go get an implement." (I am so fed up he always gives me this order. To begin with it was fun - now not. Other men all seem to fetch the implements themselves. Why is this?)
Still, I giggle as I ask him to choose. Not that we have acres of implements to choose from. Not that it bothers me - the few we have are quite sufficient to turn white to cherry red.
"Bring the Little Nipper, since you ask."
Suddenly I was not so eager. I can go with the Rose paddle even when used for discipline, but I hate the Little Nipper with a vengeance. It looks completely harmless, but it always feels like it's burning my layers of skin off my bottom on an individual basis. It is pure evil and Dan loves it because it is so lightweight and easy to brandish.
Dan propped himself up against the headboard and beckoned for me to lay myself over his lap. He anchored me down with his right leg, which is a usual occurrence to keep me from inadvertently kicking and knocking his teeth out.
Then he was wrestling with my nightie. I thought he was hitching it up around my waist. But no, he wanted it completely off. I shivered. Whether from the cold or the anticipation, I am not sure.
"You won't be cold for long" I was informed. (Wonder if Abby is reading this? LOL!)
There were various pointers re this spanking that I either didn't see, or chose not to see. I still blithely thought it was going to be a pleasant, sexy, sharp little spanking and we could then progress on to better things.
Dan started out slowly, both rubbing my bottom and spanking with his hand. I relaxed into it enjoying the various sensations. Then I felt something very cold and I realised he was using some lube. My senses heightened and I began looking forward to better things even more.
But strangely, he began rubbing the lube into my cheeks, making them wet. I felt the cold air.
SWAT!
Good grief, that packed a sting and a half!
SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! SWAT!
"Ouch - that's a bit stingy! Steady on!"
I wriggled trying to avoid the spatula. Dan wouldn't be deterred. He spanked away for some time. My ouches were getting louder. This was not what I had in mind.
"Ouch, Dan. This hurts!"
I was glaring into the duvet, and when he finally stopped I breathed such a sign of relief. Thank goodness for that, I thought.
I went to get up but his hand on my back pressed me back down.
"Oh no, I am only just getting started," I was informed.
The swats were falling thick and fast. I never know whether to try to relax or to clench my buttocks for all I am worth. I was trying to kick and in between I was curling my toes. My ouches were getting louder and one or two words of protest were creeping in.
Now Dan chose to return to the discussion of the night before.
"In future you will not take the controls and change the channel on the TV without asking me first."
What the....?
"You do it too often. It is rude and disrespectful. You just wade in and ignore my preferences. How would you like me to do that to you?"
Dan was punctuating each few words with a hefty swat that had me squirming and yelling. My bottom felt ablaze.
I wondered how much I could stand, and at the same time my admiration for people who get spanked with thick wooden paddles increased 300%.
Talking about percentages...
"We are going to work on this one" I was informed. "Just be warned - if I catch you doing it again we will repeat this little exercise until you learn."
"Ye-ouch!!!"
"Ye-ouch? Yes, ye-ouch indeed!"
He stopped and rubbed my poor sore cheeks. Such a relief. So nice. Why doesn't he rub my cheeks like this more often during a spanking? I thought to myself.
"You are NOT 49% in this household. You are NOT even 40% You are barely, at this minute in time, 39%!!" Oh?!
"You can let Meredith know just in case Jack feels he would like to make an adjustment to their power ratio as well."
"There's been too much attitude around here of late. Too many interruptions both to what I am saying and to what I am watching. I may not be impulsive, as you call it, but it doesn't mean I plan to ignore the situation. The end justifies the means. And it will be your end in the firing line."
Apparently he still had not finished, and he rattled of another twenty or so on my very chastened bottom. That final onslaught brought me to tears and reminded me that Dan had laid down the law.
Then I was gathered into his arms and at last we were on to better things.
This spanking was a reminder I hadn't anticipated, but which was long overdue. As much as I hate a more severe spanking when it is for disciplinary purposes, it clears the air, leads to better things, and makes me feel loved, cared for and cherished.
It seems that the opening of Meredith's Can of Worms proved a salutary lesson for the both of us.
Usually I adore the run up to Christmas. But this year it was made harder by the fact that we have our house on the market and we were having to contend with showing people (with dirty shoes!) around. One woman had a peculiar look of dissatisfaction on her face which prompted me to say to her
"Don't you like beams?"
"I don't like them at all" she replied.
Now why on earth would you want to view a timber-framed property that started off its life in the late 1400s if you don't like beams?!!! Heaven help us!
(This isn't our house, BTW. But very similar.)
Dan picked up a second dose of viral pneumonia which had him coughing for weeks and weeks, and I got a bit of a sore throat and sniffles. But mainly it is looking after an ailing man that has a draining effect on me. LOL!
I had, fortunately, arranged to visit my good friend Jan in a nearby city. I was sooooo excited, and as you know, she has lost loads of weight and looked stunning.
She is full of humour and such a nice person to share a meal and go shopping with. My jaws ached by the time I was on my way home.
Now, what I didn't reveal was that Jan handed me a gift in a Christmassy little bag, with a giggle. I should've observed her body language more closely. The minx!
(Jan - I have to tell you that Dan really, really loved it!!)
We sat happily unwrapping presents on Christmas morning with our daughter, son-in-law and smallest grandson. Most of the 555 presents were for smallest, but Dan and I did get a few.
I am one of these people who love to watch other people opening presents, but tend to leave mine till later. However, we did open our children's gifts and they were lovely.
Then our daughter, who was doing the honours and foraging around under the tree, gravely handed me my gift from Jan. Ha!
Some second sight told me to tell her that I would open it later as this particular friend had a wicked sense of humour.
Was I glad I did!
I like it very much, Jan, and thank you for being so thoughtful. But let me warn you that I have a similar naughty sense of humour and know exactly what to get you next Christmas! Ha!
This is it everyone -
Jan had it especially made for me at a local pottery. Thank goodness I didn't open it in front of my daughter and son-in-law. Every suspicion they have about me being somewhat kinky would have been instantly confirmed.
As I write this it is sleeting yet again outside the windows.
Horrid cold, icy, yucky stuff!
It makes me think about what I wear to bed in this old and draughty house. If what I am about to impart to you makes you laugh, and think I am totally hopeless, well so be it.
When we first married, I wore sheer, sexy nighties, and nothing else.
The sheerer and sexier the better. Even my robes were sheer and sexy to match the nighties.
Then somehow, over the years, the sexiness went out of my nightwear, and I started to cover up more and more. I can remember how I owned and wore several Victorian style nightgowns made of wincyette that did right up to the neck and had long sleeves and went down to the floor.
They covered up every bit of me!
Eventually I relaxed into wearing a nightie resembling a thigh-length t-shirt.
But I still kept my knickers on. Dan and I had one terrific argument about me wearing knickers in bed. He said that he wanted access at all times, and I was not prepared to remove them. What would happen, I asked, if there was an emergency in the middle of the night?
Well, there was, once. Whilst we were staying in a hotel down near the M25. We were all herded out on the pavement at 4 in the morning. I was very glad indeed that I was wearing my knickers! Golly it was cold!
But then, when we started TTWD, I got up enough courage to ask Dan if there was anything he would like me to 'submit' to. After he had picked himself up off the floor and managed to stop laughing long enough to reply, he thought for a moment, and then said "Although our sex life has improved 300%, why do you still wear a nightie and knickers in bed? I would like you to sleep in the nude."
I was stunned. I just hadn't thought about it.
"I want to be able to caress you, kiss you and make love to you whenever I want, and I hate having to struggle to remove all your clothing."
"I might get cold."
"Then I shall make sure I keep you warm.
"Oh."
I found it quite difficult at first. It felt strange to feel the sheets and duvet directly on my skin. But Dan kept his word. I have never been cold. He slides right up behind me and spoons. He is one of these men who feel as hot as a furnace, and we always have to move apart before dropping off to sleep.
Just very occasionally do I wear a nightie and that is only on an extremely cold winter's night. (And bedsocks!)
But never knickers, and sometimes I just wear a t-shirt on the top half to keep my shoulders and chest warm. I do have a silly habit of sleeping with my arms out of bed, and they do sometimes get rather icy. Old houses like ours are not the warmest of places.
Also, I confide that in the winter we have a hot water bottle
which I make and take up with me. I get my side of the bed all nice and toasty, then I push it over to Dan's side ready for him. Old-fashioned, but very effective, and it doesn't use up electricity like electric blankets do! And if the night is extra cold, I spread a patchwork quilt on top of duvet and you can just about see the tops of our heads as we burrow down into the warmth.
Does anyone else wear anything mildly eccentric in bed, I wonder?
