Sunday, 30 December 2012

Footprints on the Way

I'd actually planned a completely different post, but then I had a 180 degree change of heart, and at the moment I feel kind of bouncy!

I had felt like Pilgrim slowly plodding his way through the Slough of Despond.  And then things starting changing.  It's really weird.  But Starman never ceases to amaze me.  I often wonder whether we have some strange kind of telepathy between us.  So I have one or two stories to tell.  If you get bored, just switch off!


Around a year ago my car keys were lost.  Starman had borrowed my car, which is an oldish landrover, but which we need in the rural area in which we live.  He'd borrowed it in the morning.  In the afternoon I needed to run into town.  I went to the hook where the car keys are meant to live, and voila, no car keys.  We have a hook each, just for car keys.  I searched high and low.  No car keys.  I accused him of losing the aforesaid car keys.  He searched high and low.  No car keys.  

I used the spare keys and went into town.  It was inconvenient as there were other keys on the keyring, and things like my 'trolley smiley face' (which is like a pound coin that you use to put into your supermarket trolley - we don't get free trolleys in England!)  I was not amused.

My mother in law came to visit another day.  She was roped in to looking for the car keys.  She searched Starman's office, and our son's work shop/garage, and all over the barn.  No car keys.

Our son said that Dad was always losing things.  It was either his reading glasses, or the car keys or his wallet, or well, practically anything!  But still no car keys.

As I said.  That happened a year ago.

Starman was out getting diesel.  Our son arrived in the kitchen with a very guilty grin on his face.  He was dangling something from a finger.  I peered a little closer and my eyes narrowed.


He looked very sheepish.  "I know what you are  going to say" he told me.  "I haven't worn this coat since last winter.  I just put my hands in the pockets, and look what I found."

"I should kill you" I snarled.

"I know" he replied.  "I forgot that I used your car after Dad the day they got lost.  I remember now that my mobile went on my way from the cartlodge to the barn, and I stuffed them in my pocket.  When I finished the call I had to go out in my truck and got back so late that I completely forgot about them or that I'd borrowed your car in the first place.  

Don't tell Dad.  I'm getting like him.  I'll never live it down."

I put the keys back on the hook next to the spare keys.  

It wasn't long before Starman noticed that there were suddenly two pairs of keys.  "Oh yes?" he asked, and if he could raise an eyebrow he would've.

Now, don't forget that we are now into Dd.  Oh help!  "They seem to have turned up" I told him nonchalantly. 

 "Oh yes?" (the eyebrow was figuratively still raised)  "And where did you find them?"  

He looked me in the eye.  "Now Ami.  Tell the truth."  (The eyebrow got even higher, or would've if it could've!)  "Tell me the truth!  Now!"  Oh help.  Oh help.  Oh help.

So I did.  But I did explain that I had promised our son not to say a word.  And now perhaps he wouldn't trust me ever again.

"But I will Ami" Starman told me.  And my eyes filled immediately of course.

And actually Starman simply teased our son about it.  And told him, of course, that he was growing to be like his father.  (Which, naturally, I already knew!)


Yesterday we entertained.  We had around 60 people coming for our annual Christmas lunchtime drinks session.  In previous years I have slaved away for weeks in anticipation of this event.  But this year, having catered for 125 for our daughter's wedding in June, I felt I would have to cheat a little.  So I ordered entertaining food from Waitrose (it's a large supermarket chain in the UK) and Starman decided he would make a huge amount of hot spiced cider, and just offer wine, beer or soft drinks for anyone who didn't want the cider.  

We were up early and Starman sorted out the furniture in the open body of the barn so that there would be plenty of room for people to circulate around the table and to stand, or sit, and talk.  I worked in the kitchen preparing the food, setting it to keep hot, getting flowers, candles, plates and napkins into position etc.  

The phone started ringing.  People who couldn't come due to illness.  People who were going to be late.  People who wanted to bring extra people as they were staying with them for the holidays.  The list kept rising and falling like a storm at sea.  I got more and more stressed.

There was only a half an hour left before people were due to arrive and I wasn't even dressed.  Blind panic was setting in.  

Starman was feeling the heat too.  Literally.  His forehead was beaded with sweat.  Our kitchen is built for the Arctic, not a mild wet winter!  (We have a large cast iron stove that is oil fed and stays hot all the time.)   He was getting very agitated, especially with the list.  I burnt the tops of some sausage rolls, and he turned round and snapped at me.  I was stunned.

I had worked so hard to concentrate on what I had to get done, even when he was under my feet in the kitchen.  I had kept to task.  I was very nearly ready.  Just a few more things.  I hadn't said (which is very very unusual for me) one mean or snarky word to Starman that morning.  

I started to cry quietly.  I was trying to throw away the burnt sausage rolls and do some new ones, but my hands were shaking and I couldn't see what I was doing.  I could feel the tears sliding down my cheeks and dripping off my chin.  "I can't do this Dd thing one minute longer" I thought to myself.  "Enough is enough!"

Then suddenly Starman was next to me and wrapping me in his arms and kissing my tears.  "I'm so sorry Ami" he said.  "I didn't mean to yell at you.  To tell you the truth I am gobsmacked (overwhelmed!) at how you've behaved this Christmas.  I can't believe it's you!"

I cried harder.  He hugged harder.

"Now then.  Don't cry.  Go and sort yourself out and get changed while I do the sausage rolls.  Have got enough?  You seem to be feeding the five thousand here!" He chuckled.  "I really like the new you Ami."

Yes, you've guessed it.  I went upstairs and cried even harder.  But tears of joy and surprise this time.

Our party was a great success - around 45 people came in the end.  The first arrived at 12.30 spot on, and the last left at 7.00 pm.  We were exhausted.  Especially me in my killer heels - to which I finally admitted defeat at around 5.30!  My back still aches today!  But my heart is so warm I think I don't think I'll need any external means of heating for a long time!


Starman didn't give me anything for Christmas.  As I normally have to give him hints for weeks, if not months in advance, I wasn't really too surprised.  I have even been known to give him a list.  

Some years I have had to find him the wrapping paper to wrap the gift I already knew I was getting.  Some years I have had to buy it myself.  Some years it's simply been left until the January sales.  Some years I have ended up having a monumental row with him for being so thoughtless.  Especially the year I bought him a gift for every one of the twelve days of Christmas, and tried my best to theme them to each of the days - and he told me that due to being away working he'd run out of time.

So I was just so happy that the holiday had gone without any major confrontations, and that our party had been successful, and that our HOH/TIH role had taken a a significant stride forwards, that I didn't even think about the lack of a gift.

This morning my wonderful husband handed me a small package.  No it wasn't wrapped.  That would've been asking too much.  But he had not only thought about it well before Christmas, he had chosen it himself, and he told me my safety meant a great deal to him.

He had bought me a smart phone.  I'll not mention the name, but it does everything.  Calls, well, yes of course, and texts, but also photos, and videos, and emails and gives a weather forecast, and has Apps!  My old mobile was an antiquity.  It made calls and texts, but that was all.  I'd had it years.  It was almost a brick I'd had it so long.  I just never in my wildest dreams expected him to get me a gift like this.  He's already spoiled me for my birthday in November with a digital camera.  (My old camera was perfectly good, but not digital.)  I was happy with that pressie and that would have covered Christmas as well.

"I thought you'd like it love" he was being squeezed very tight at the time and sounded a bit breathless.  "I don't want to think of you breaking down and not being able to contact me.  I like to contact you too, you know.  Your old phone was very temperamental and unreliable.  I feel happier now."


So, not just one, but three amazingly (to me anyway!) wonderful events, and just when I was feeling low about the whole HOH thing.   And I have learned so much from each event.  I'm just bursting at the seams with joy!  Never before has being honest, being respectful, and being kept safe, had such an impact on my life.  As I said in my previous post, I thought I knew everything, but I know nothing.

Once again, a Very Happy New Year 2013 to all my friends!  I am doing my best to link my site you all of yours so it's easier with comments.  Cat has kindly said she will help me sort my site out.  So, onwards and upwards....

Friday, 28 December 2012

Unexpected Mud on the Road

I've had a bit of a tough time over Christmas.  I thought I'd share my thoughts with you.  I've already shared them with a very good friend, and I'm sure she won't mind, but I have altered the personal details.

Dreams and reality are two different things.  I don't mind telling you that I am finding this all a lot tougher than I thought I would.  I thought I knew it all.  I didn't.  Not even half of it.  It feels at the moment like we are wading through mud up to our knees!  And it is so difficult to pull out a foot in order to plunge it back down and walk another step forward.

Okay - so I brought all this to Starman and I imagined him as some kind of superherostudspankingcowboywideshoulderedallknowingHOH!  But he's not.  Well, he is.  But not like this.  He's real.  He's who I married a long time ago, and I love him to bits, and this has all taken him aback. Suddenly I'm suggesting a whole new structure to the way we live our lives, and I'm expecting him to fall over himself to agree with it all.

And me?  I'm not the most tactful person in the world.  I am loud and unforgiving of mistakes.  I put my foot in it often!  I have the occasional temper tantrum that threatens to put Mount Vesuvius out of business.  I sulk.  I lie awake at night dwelling on things that may never happen.  I can be very short and unkind when I am tired.  (Shall I go on?)  But you know what?  Starman isn't perfect either.  So this is what I am trying to do.

I am trying, very, very hard, to imagine that he is a new friend.  I wouldn't treat a new friend in the way I often treat Starman, so I need to make a few adjustments to myself.  Not to him, but to me.

Starman has had a cold, mostly during the lead up to Christmas, and now he is plagued with an irritating cough and sinus problems.  I simply can't cope with it.  I am horrible.  It is ridiculous.  Why am I like this?

Why do I get so stressed leading up to Christmas?  We had the great turkey debacle.  You should have heard us!  In the end I let him choose the turkey.  I bit my tongue very hard to stop being horrible to him. (The turkey proved my point far better than I could've!  It wasn't what he had hoped it would be despite my tender loving care!)

I am not a submissive person.  At least, I hate the thought of being as such.  Yet I long for the domestic harmony, the drawing of the line, the hugs and closeness - yes, even the spankings!  But nothing is going as I thought it would.  I can't even seem to get my wretched blog to look like everyone else's blog!  I thought all this would be an instant fix.  I am a stupid person.

But no.  Perhaps I am not completely stupid.  I am just uncertain, and in my low moments expect my loving husband to work miracles.

I used to follow a blog called Finding Sara.  I lurked for quite a long time.  Then I started to tentatively make comments.  Some were really stupid and she was so very good to me.  She maintained that it took her and her husband at least a year to even think about using any other spanking implement than hand spanking.  Here I am trying out several.  Why?  I am crazy.  It's not necessary.

First I need to communicate properly with Starman.  He's not a mind reader.  He's really very nervous about this whole thing.  Considering what I am expecting him to do, I think he's bloody brilliant.  Next, I am trying to be honest with him.  If anything, this is proving just as difficult, because even little white lies are now not allowed.  Ugh!  We had several problems with that over Christmas.  I also realised I was trying to do too much - you know, be superwoman?  In the end I thought to myself, "None of this is really important.  Who's going to notice if the kitchen floor isn't as clean as it should be, or if there are finger marks on the glass doors?  So what?  If one of us died tomorrow - would any of it matter?"  So, some things didn't get done in time.  But so what?!

I go and hug Starman and tell him that I love him, and give him a big sloppy kiss - on his lips, his neck or anywhere that is handy.  He says "Silly woman, what's gotten into you now?"  When it comes down to it - the only thing that really matters is our continuing love and commitment as a couple, and our children and nearest and dearest.

I am hoping that Dd can strengthen and remind Starman and I of things we have let slip.  I think that instead of being like two people sharing a house we need to remember some of the reasons we fell in love in the first place.  I know that I have to relax and let him rule the roost the way he did when we first married.  Oh yes, he did!  He even wrote lists of things for me to do each week!  He wouldn't dream of doing that now because I would kill him!  Yet, perhaps he ought to do so.  Because I know who the bitch can be in our relationship.  And it isn't him.  (I hate hormones - even if mine are on the patch I stick on twice a week!)

So what I am hoping is that we are absolutely normal and everything is happening in an absolutely normal way.  I am hoping that there are lots of  other people out there just like Starman and me.

I hope that I can look back at this Christmas as a big learning curve.  I so want something good to come out of it all.  I just hadn't realised quite what a struggle it would be.

Starman and I would like to wish you all a Very Happy New Year.  (And no rain like we have in the UK!!)

Saturday, 22 December 2012

Maintaining the Road Surface

So here I am sitting on top of this hill.  I'm surrounded by other hills, but this is the biggest and I can't see anyone else on any of the other hills.  I'm sitting with my knees drawn up, my arms folded on top of them and my chin resting on my arms.  Yes, I know I threatened to run for the hills, and I know you all said to slow down and not be in so much of a hurry.  But I have this tendency to not listen, and then when I'm in a situation like this that I have brought on myself, I do far too much analysing, and I find that in the end I'm ready to listen to anyone.


I know everyone writes about maintenance on their blogs.  I've tried to read them all several times.  We decided that a weekly 'discussion' would be good to start off with.  This week was due to be our fourth.  We talked about our week and actually it wasn't that bad.  So I suggested to Starman that we might have a look at some of the spanking options we could try.  He raised his eyebrows a bit, but not to be put off I produced a long perspex ruler, a candy pink leather paddle, (I like pink okay?!), a shortish whippy affair with a leather loop one end and a fluffy feathery other end, and my little wooden kitchen thingy from the previous week, that research has informed me is a type of butter paddle  (I know, I bought it from a market in deepest Europe somewhere!)  Starman's eyes nearly popped out of his head.  He lifted the paddle and weighed it in his hand before slapping it down with a crack against his other palm.  Hmmm.

So I shifted willingly into our usual position with him leaning up against the headboard and me over his lap.  And I grabbed a pillow and sank my face into it.  I was having a premonition here.

"Why can't I just use my hand?"  

"Because we have to find my tolerance levels."

"Your what?!"

"You know, how much I can cope with."

"Cope with?!"

"Oh for goodness sake!  How hard!  How long!  What hurts the most!"

"Good grief!"

Starman didn't sound convinced, but I wriggled a bit to prompt him.

"You could start with a warm up session.  I believe that is what we are meant to do."

I wriggled a bit more.  So he began.  They were no more than love pats!  

"It's okay.  You can spank a little harder than that you know."

So he did.

He has the most amazing technique.  You never know where a spank is going to land, so you can't mentally prepare for it.

"Stop clenching your cheeks."

"I'm not!"

"Yes you are!"  He's running his fingers up and down my cleft.

"Okay, okay, I'll relax."  I giggle and giggle.  I don't even want to think about what my rear view looks like.

Then the spanks begin to get harder, snappier, stingier.  I wriggle about a bit.  I start to gasp.   I'm not too sure now.  Then a pause.  Have we finished?

Whack!  Ohhhhh!  Whack!  

It's the pink paddle.  It has a completely different feel to his hand.  It covers more surface area.  Whack!  This is only just within the range of my ability to cope.  Whack!  Ohhhhh!

Then when I begin to think I'm not going to be able to manage much longer, another pause.

But we have not stopped.  I can hear Starman changing implements.

Crack!  Oh bugger!!!  Crack!  Owowow! Crack!  Eeeouch!!  Crack!  I know even without being told that it's the butter paddle.

I burst into sobs, forget the crying part, I went from nought to sobs in one second flat!  I buried my face as deep into the pillow as I could and concentrated on not clenching my cheeks as I knew it would hurt even more if I did.  Crack!  Crack!  Crack!

I was shaking now.  Starman was still talking for England.  Lost entirely in the novelty of the situation, concentrating almost entirely on my sit-spots.  Then he noticed my shoulders weren't shaking because I was giggling.

"Bloody hell, are you crying?"  I felt him slow down, the tempo stagger, and the spanks were less painful.

"No, I'm fine.  I'm fine.  Keep going.  It's good for me."  Owww!  Crack!  Owww!  Crack!
Hiccup, hiccup, hiccup!

Starman slowed, gave one final crack and stopped.

"I think that's enough for today, don't you?"  I could feel him rubbing my cheeks carefully.

"You're very red."  I could feel him examining me again.  "You look like you've been mauled by a tiger.  There's all these lines like claw marks."

I sat up and reached around for a tissue and blew my nose lustily.  My bottom burned, but apart from that I felt okay.  Better than okay really.  I straddled Starman's legs and leaning forward gave him a big kiss.

"I do love you"  I told him. 

"I love you too" he replied.

I'm still amazed at our post-spanking ardour.  It definitely works for us!  

Later I stood in the shower and let the hot water cascade down over my rear end thinking that it actually was a little sore.  Whatever...

Then when I was drying myself I happened to catch my back view in a full length mirror.  Oh help!  It wasn't the redness that bothered me.  It was the rapidly appearing bruises!  I examined myself with growing dread.  Crap!

I made it through the day without too much discomfort, which was very surprising.  But the bruises just carried on getting worse and worse.  Whilst we were out shopping I rushed into a shop and bought myself some arnica gel.  Everyone had suggested this numerous times, and I had laughingly made jokes about it.

I plastered it on that night before bed.  I was very careful not to mention the bruising to Starman.  That would be the end of it.  He would not be happy.

So, that was three days ago.  The bruises are absolutely spectacular!  They start off black, go blue, then green and are now turning yellow.  There are lines where the edges of the butter paddle must have bitten into my flesh.  It does, truly, look as if I have been mauled by a tiger!  

I cannot go swimming.  I wouldn't dare as my swimsuit doesn't cover my sit spots sufficiently.  

Part of the time I roar with laughter about it.  The other part I'm scared stiff Starman will notice.  So I make sure I am in bed before he is, and I face him at all times.  If he saw I honestly think he's go ape!  

But I have no regrets at all whatsoever!  I learnt a great deal from this little exercise.  One is to definitely take things more slowly.  It isn't a race.  You have to do things to suit you, not because everyone else further along the line have done it and you want to catch up.  It's been a hard lesson to learn, and quite ouchy.  We never even got to try the ruler (yikes!!!) and the little whippy thing with the feathers was used in an entirely different way, and we never got around to trying the whippy end of it!  

But any comments would be appreciated as I would like to know about other people's experience with bruising.  What do you do?  Was Starman using too much strength?  How do you learn to temper these things?  It's very difficult when you are starting out.

I now know that if he spanks that hard for maintenance that I never, ever want to cause him to decide I need a punishment.  Not ever!  Ever, ever, ever!  Phew!!


Maybe I'll get up and start down off my hill.  The views are good, but it's very lonely up here - although it's a good place to come and contemplate the next few miles of road ahead.  Looks like we've hit a straight stretch...

Wednesday, 19 December 2012

Danger - Uneven Road Surface Ahead

There seems to be a lot of spanking about lately.  

Well, we have made it so far.  Tomorrow is our fourth 'discussion'.  

And what I want to know is this - what position is the best for maintenance?  It's all very well for those of you who've been doing this for some time.  But to a newcomer it's all a little difficult to get my head around at times.

Because we have chosen a 'morning' instead of an 'evening' for our discussions, (and this is because it is one of the few times when we are not likely to be interrupted by anything more than a telephone call - which we ignore) we lie in bed and talk about the past week.  

I often have to help Starman regain consciousness with a strong cup of Yorkshire tea and a digestive biscuit.  Myself?  I go for a full shot of caffeine.  The communication still has a tendency to be a bit stilted so I need all the caffeine I can get.  Even then I hide my face in  his chest hair, or under his armpit, or even in the duvet.  Anywhere, in fact, where my face can be hidden from daylight.  I wonder whether the speaking part will ever get any easier?

It hasn't been too bad this week, I think.  Only one or two minor transgressions.  But have you noticed how our emotions cause us to rise to the bait at this time of the year?


I was leaving for my final day of school, my foot almost out of the back door.  Starman looked at me and said "Have you had any thoughts about the turkey yet?"  

Clutching my handbag, my lunchbox, my planner, numerous exercise books taken home for marking, and a collection of textbooks, I halted.

"Not really.  I'll get on to it tomorrow."

"Don't forget Christmas is only a week away."

"Oh knickers!"  I huffed.  "I'd forgotten we break up really late this year.  Well, I'll still get on to it tomorrow."

Starman put some toast in the toaster.

"That's okay.  I've had one Christmas dinner anyway."  He scratched his chin.  "Why don't we have beef instead this year?"

I move back into the kitchen.

"You know I've ordered that huge rib joint from the butchers.  We're having it Boxing Day."

"Oh I forgot.  Pity.  Turkey can get a bit boring if you have it too often.  And it's such a dry meat."

I missed the twinkle in his eye.  I'm tired after a fifteen week term and eighty end of term reports.  I've gone from happy, looking-forward-to-the-end-of-term-teacher to bitchy wife in two seconds.  Usually it takes me three!

"Since when do I serve up dry turkey?!!! And you know we were going to get a turkey as soon as I'd broken up!  If you don't like dry turkey, why did you have the bloody thing the other night?!"  My fury knows no bounds.

Starman's face changes.  His eyes go steely.  "I can hardly speak to you these days and you jump down my throat.  I just think it's been left a bit late that's all.  There's no need to be like that with me.  I was only joking."

I'm too furious to reply.  I sweep out of the door and march purposefully to the car.  By the time I back out of the cartlodge my eyes are overflowing and I cry all the way to work.  In my mind I'm going over what was said and how I could have handled it differently.  A hundred different scenarios go through my head.  And now I have a whole day to get through whilst feeling miserable and guilt stricken.

By late afternoon when I've arrive home things are back to normal.  Peace has returned to the Stariverse.  

The turkey hasn't been referred to since.  I've still not managed to get hold of one.  At this rate we'll have to have a frozen one, and I can't remember the last time that happened.  Starman won't be happy.

"Well," I think, "he's the one who works from home.  Why couldn't he have gotten the wretched thing?!"

Usually we argue about the tree.  Do we have a traditional Christmas tree that we know will drop everywhere?  Do we have a Nordman?  Do we have a blue spruce?  How big?  How bushy?  With or without roots?

Not this year.  For the first time in forever, we didn't argue.  Just went straight there and purchased the first one Starman saw!  I left the choice to him completely.  And it was so lovely.  A traditional Christmas tree, no roots, (we have a special container you put water into) ten feet tall and really bushy.  It looks and smells great.  I have spent a goodly part of the week decorating it.  I can't believe we achieved the buying of a tree stress free!  It's a miracle!

But now my second transgression...

The tree is very tall.  It is my task to decorate the tree.  Always.  I just love doing it.  We have some decorations from when I was five years old!  Over the years my mother in law has given us a new, and unusual, decoration every Christmas.  It's a tradition.

Starman helped me with the lights.  We had to wind them round and round starting at the top.  They are a new set and rather too bright for my taste, but the offspring love them.

"Now you be careful with that step ladder."  Starman looks at me warningly.

"I will."  I reassure him.  After all, I've been climbing that step ladder for (I was going to say donkey's years!  Well, for a long time anyway!) and I'm quite used to going up and down.  I hold tightly with one hand and lean over and carefully arrange each decoration strategically.

I've very nearly finished.  There is just one branch, right near the top, that requires something hanging from it that will 'stand out'.  I select a large glass bird with lots of sparkles.  I lean dangerously out over the tree, almost swinging from the ladder like Tarzan of the jungle.  And that is the moment Starman chooses to come into the living room.

"What the hell do you think you are doing woman?!" he yells at me.

He causes me to jump and I panic, and only by the skin of my teeth manage not to fall right into the blessed tree.  I stand gasping and holding on to the ladder with both hands.

"You scared me to death!" I yell at him.  I'm still shaking too much to even think of climbing down the ladder.

Starman strides towards me radiating anger.  He holds the bottom of the ladder and orders me down.  "Don't you ever do that again" he warns.  "Silly bloody woman.  How many times have I told you not to go up that ladder unless I'm around.  What would you have done if you'd fallen off?  We'd have spent all day in casualty and Christmas would have been completely ruined."

I can see he's actually very unnerved by my actions.  I don't court trouble.  It just seems to find me.

I hang my head.  "Sorry Starman" I say.  "It's okay, I've finished now.  There're just a few bits and pieces to go on lower down.  I'll do those during the week"

"Well, I'm telling you.  I don't want to see you up that ladder again.  You're too old for that sort of thing."

He's calming down.  But I'm seething.  I hate references to my age.  It's strange how women are either too young or too old for something.  We seem to miss out completely on the middle bit.


So, back to our maintenance.  I wonder whether Starman will still sit up and lean on the bedhead with me draped tastefully across his lap, or whether I will get to experience a new position.  We are meant to be 'trying out' an interesting range of implements this week.  Just to see what stings the most, what is easiest to use, what is the noisiest or the most quiet.  Just to assess my tolerance level.  

So come on guys - what position is right (or typical) for maintenance?  And thinking about it, how hard is maintenance compared with erotic spanking?  (Don't even think about punishment!  My brain can't cope with going there just yet!) 

And should I get my arnica cream out in advance?  

All answers on a post card.....

Sunday, 16 December 2012

Passing the First MirrorMy First Deviation

I'm not experienced at Dd, but I am experienced at marriage.  You would think by now that I knew how to deal with the occasional hiccup.  That I would be calm and compliant; understanding what is expected of me and responding accordingly.


I know.  I have been told.  You don't submit because you are afraid of stepping out of line.  You don't submit because find it easier than stating your opinion.  And you certainly don't submit because you fear the consequences.  

You submit out of love.

And it's hard.  It's far more difficult than I ever realised it would be.  It's difficult because all of a sudden, out of nowhere it seems, all these emotions appear.  I seem to be drowning in them at the moment.  

I seemed to get separated from Starman this week, and set off walking at a tangent.  I needed to get back in the right direction.  Things were going from bad to worse.  And instead of putting a damper on those wretched emotions, I was simply fanning the flames.  

Our second 'discussion' passed without a hitch.  We discussed our week and whether we had made any headway.  We had a practice spanking session which wasn't long and didn't hurt.  It was more about getting to know each other and becoming more comfortable in the spanking position.  Starman was much more confident and delivered a flurry of spanks, varying his speed and impact.  And when he considered I was on the pink side, he stopped.  He made the decision, and refused to be encouraged to proceed any further.  He put his finger to my lips when I started to protest, and told me in no uncertain words that what he did and how he did it was entirely up to him.

So I sailed into my week almost on a high.  And then Tuesday reared its ugly head.

I'd worked all day.  That was fine.  I was busy with school and end of term stuff, and in the late afternoon I joined most of the staff for afternoon tea in town.  (Yes, this is England, and yes, we had smoked salmon and cucumber sandwiches, scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream and Victoria sandwich cake together with a pot of Earl Grey).  It was a lovely way to celebrate the coming end of term and the approach of Christmas.

I was the first to leave.  I needed to get back to the car park by 4 pm or risk getting a ticket.  Although it was very icy I made it and was soon on my way out of town moving towards the dual carriageway and home.

I saw break lights come on up ahead and thought it was just the usual rush of folk wanting to get home early on such a frosty evening.  But I soon found I was in a total snarl-up.  You know, we call them moving car parks over here!  It took me an hour to even reach the main road and merge into the traffic stream.  I chanced an illegal call on my mobile to let Starman know I was going to be later than expected.  He has a tendency to worry otherwise.  Then I was in the traffic jam for a further hour and a half.  I was exhausted.  It should have been a twenty minute journey!

Now I don't know about you but I hate sitting in 'barely moving' traffic.  My temperament just won't take it.  I quickly traverse the bored stage, move on through the angry stage, and into the "For ***k's sake! stage."  I know it isn't good.  It isn't ladylike.  But I'm telling it how it is.

So I arrive home exhausted and snarky, with all thoughts of my lovely tea long since vanished into the ether.  And poor Starman was in the wrong place at the wrong time.  

In this order, I got down out of the car, I burst into tears, Starman said some helpful words, I   
said some less than helpful words back, cried some more, marched into the house muttering to myself and anyone else who would listen, slammed my books down, filled the kettle and slammed it down, slammed my feet down on the stairs as I ran up them, and finally I slammed the bedroom door.

Now where did all that come from?!  Oh dear!  

Sensibly, or not, Starman left me to cool down.  He's learned over the years that you don't stoke the flames.  He knows I will always apologise.  He just has to keep calm.

But this time my bad mood continued on into the evening, over night, and on into the next morning.  I just couldn't shake it off.  I know I get like this towards the end of term.  I know I let myself down every time.  What I don't know is why, after all this time, I can't recognise how impossible I get.

So, the next morning we had to visit a large hardware store on the outskirts of town.  We both like wandering the aisles of such places; Starman buys interesting things like door hinges, screws and PVA glue whilst I visit the gardening section.  So far so good.

We managed to get round without a single disagreement.  Well, I was mostly silent anyway.  But when we got outside to the car park we had a flat tyre.  Four wheel drives are usually large and heavy vehicles.  Mine is, anyway.  

Now I would have instantly recognised this as a problem and called the company out that we belong to, you know the ones, those who assist in emergencies like flat tyres.  But oh no, not Starman.  He was going to fix that tyre himself.  You should have seen the look of determination on his face.  

They put wheel nuts on these days with machines.  The machines are determine to put those nuts on so tight that He-Man himself couldn't get them unscrewed.

I know these things.  I accept them.

Starman gave it his all.  He ended up using his foot to turn the thingy that undoes those wheel nuts.  And it worked fine as far as the flat was concerned.  But then he turned his attention to the spare wheel kept on the back door of the car.  Now that was another matter entirely.  You can't lift your foot in the air in order to turn the lever and loosen the nuts.

We were there over an hour while he tried.  I sat in the car in the end.  My helpful comments were not required.  And I was cold.  So was Starman.  But he thrives on challenge.

Eventually he returned to the warm inside of the vehicle.  Eventually he capitulated.  He called the car rescue company.  

We waited a further hour.  They came out.  They used a special gadget to unscrew the wheel nuts.  They changed the tyre in record time.  We were on our way home.


Next morning it's Thursday again.  Remember?  Thursday is our discussion morning.  Yes, I know what you are all thinking.  But we are only three weeks in.  We've only had two practices so far.  So Starman talked.  He talked and talked.  I felt worse and worse.  Eventually even I couldn't stand it.  I went downstairs and made a cup of tea and returned with it to bed.  I had coffee.  I figured I needed the caffeine.  

I had a lot of apologising to do.  But what you don't know dear friend, is that whilst down in the kitchen I gave my wooden kitchen utensils a great deal of scrutiny.  I know you use wooden spoons.  I've read that far.  I know you use paddles.  I've read about those too.

Well we have a wooden utensil that looks like a small paddle.  It's like a cross between a paddle and a spatula.  It doesn't weigh much and it doesn't look very strong.  I took it from the drawer and holding it quietly by my side I took that upstairs with the tea as well.  I had it hidden under my pillow.

Starman continued to talk when I gave him his tea and got back into bed.  He paused and looked at me to make sure I was listening.  A pause was all I needed.  I got really nervous and went into apology overdrive.  Even Starman was impressed.  

Then I reached under the pillow and retrieving the wooden utensil I put it into Starman's right hand.  He looked first at it, and then at me, in amazement.  "What the hell am I meant to do with this?" he asked me.  He was looking nervous now.  I haltingly explained that I felt I deserved it for being such a bitch if nothing else, then I wriggled into position over his lap.  He sat there leaning back against the headboard and stroked my rear.  "Can't I use my hand like last week?" he asked plaintively.  I assured him he could if he wanted.  Who was I to argue?  But I said I felt that he might hurt his hand too much.

Starman continued to rub my rear.  Then he gave me a flurry of sharp spanks with his hand on both cheeks.  They stung, and made a nice loud slapping sound.  But that was about all.  Then something attacked my sit spot like a hornet.  I yowled loudly.  Starman panicked.  "It's okay, it's okay, you're only stinging me.  It's not going to break anything except itself," I assured him.  

He continued to rain down flurries of stingy swats.  But the moment was lost.  He found it too overwhelming.  Just as I thought I might actually start to sniffle this time, he stopped.  "You're far too red" he said.  "That's enough for today."  He lifted me up and decided we had better things we could be doing.  It makes me blush to say that yes, it turns us on.  Whether it will always do so is a matter for conjecture.  But it certainly does at the moment.

Buts here's the thing.  Should I have given him the wooden thingy?  Was I pushing him too much?  Everyone says go slow, but just how slow.  I needed to apologise and give him the chance to adjust my attitude.  And I don't feel like he adjusted it enough.  

We are thankfully back on the same track once again.  I let him decide, and he let me off lightly.  On reflection, I don't think I could have taken a really severe implement - that little device (which has gone into a drawer up in our room and not been returned to the kitchen) could have been extremely painful if Starman had chosen to wield it more forcefully.

So we walk on into next week.  I hope I can remember to be more submissive.  I hope I can remember that by doing so I am telling Starman I love him.  To forever and beyond.

Friday, 14 December 2012

Hall of Mirrors

Three years ago...

I'm walking down a long corridor.  It is lined with mirrors on either side.  They are the width of a door and they reach from ceiling to floor and are spaced around yard apart.  

I start to look into each mirror as I pass.  Nothing.  There's nothing there.  Just the reflection of the mirror across the corridor.  Mirrors leading into infinity.

My pace quickens.  I am walking faster and faster.  And still the mirrors are empty.  

I start to run.  The mirrors are now flashing past.  Mirror after mirror after mirror.  And then I get to the last one....

It's early in the autumn term.  I've worked solidly teaching back to back all day without a break.  The pain between my shoulder blades I went to work with this morning is worse, and I shift about in the seat of my car, longing to be home.

I cook for my menfolk but don't have much of an appetite.  Starman, concerned, tells me to go and relax on the sofa and he'll bring me a hot drink.  But I have marking to do and planning for the next day.  I'm a woman.  I'm used to multi-tasking.

By ten o'clock I can't cope with the pain and discomfort any more.  I leave my husband snoozing gently in front of the TV and go to bed.  It's hard finding a comfortable position to lie in, but I am so exhausted I manage to drop off.

And wake at 4 am.

The pain is worse and I need to pee.  I realise I am going to be sick and I wail as I cling to the porcelain.  I can hear Starman awake now and he calls out to check on me.

I can hardly breathe.  The pain has moved around and is directly between my breasts.  I call out to him in fear, and he is by my side in an instant.

Reality blurs at this point and time ceases to have any meaning.  I know the paramedics are there.  I know they are trying to stab me with needles.  I hear one of them say my veins have collapsed and they are having difficulty getting the morphine in.  

I shiver and shake in the ambulance.  I will remember Starman's white face forever.  He wasn't even allowed to hold my hand because of getting in the way.  The lights were flashing and the siren was going.

The pain was too bad to cope with, yet I felt very calm.  They had taken me to the usual local hospital, but now we were on our way to a well-known hospital specialising in 'hearts'.  I didn't think I'd get there.

But I did.  

The noise, the movement of lots of people in scrubs, the voices talking.  'Can you hear me Ami?  Can you hear me?  Look at me.  Keep looking at me.'

A face looming over me.  'Ami, I'm going to put this tube into your femoral artery.  We're going to clear away this problem.  Look at the screen, you can watch if you like.  Just keep still, try not to move at all.'

I blearily watched the screen.  Watched the little red line tracking along the path through my artery all the way to my heart.  A few seconds.  Then...then...then...

I could breathe again.  Breathe easily and without pain.  I actually smiled.  I looked up at the man who was gently removing the narrow tube and telling me not to move whilst he ensured the artery was completely sealed.  I worried, instead, about the fact that a dozen or more young interns were gazing in an absorbed fashion at my pubes, and whether or not I would ever get over the mortification of it!

Within four days I was home again.  I felt as if I had run several marathons, but I had no pain, not even a twinge from the stent they had put in my heart.  

They didn't ever discover why I had had the heart attack as my heart showed no sign of disease at all.  Just that 99.5% blocked artery.  And it only takes one of those...  They thought it may have been due to a DVT in my leg after a long-haul flight back from holiday.  But we'll never really know.

I'm walking down the corridor again.  The mirrors are as before.  But this time there is a difference.  I can see my reflection in some of them as I pass.  

And I know that the world has jerked forward on its axis, and for me will never be the same again.

"Time for the burning of the days ended and done
... let them go to the fire with never a look behind
That world that was ours is a world that is ours no more."

                                                       Laurence Binyon 1969-1943  The Burning of the Leaves

Little did I realise it at the time.  But this was the first moment that signified my first steps towards becoming a submissive wife....

(Just a quick addendum  to the ladies.  If you ever, ever get a pain between your shoulder blades, get checked out by your doctor.  Apparently, this is where many women first register the signs of a heart attack.) 

Wednesday, 12 December 2012

Introducing Ami...

Starman first sang to me a great many years ago.  To be honest, I don't know why he sang to me.  He was so very handsome with his dark amber "come to bed" eyes, his dark chestnut hair and his beautiful smile.  At 16 he swept me off my feet.  And sometimes I think I have never really felt the ground since.  Naturally, I sang back to him.

Usually we sing in harmony and everything is fine.  But occasionally we sing out of key.  And occasionally we find we cannot sing at all.

So we've started walking along a new path.  Our destination is so far away that we're hardly aware of its existence.  In between there are many bends in the road, many hills to be climbed and even a few deviations from the route.  Everyone else seems so far ahead of us it's almost as if we are walking on our own.

I'm worried because we are taking this journey at my instigation.  I'm uncertain because although the day started out sunny and bright, we seem to already have encountered rain, hail and sleet in considerable quantities, and now the mist is so thick I'm wondering whether we shall manage to stay on the road and not lose our way.

But, Starman, despite his lack of understanding, is stalwart and resolute.  He has put out his hand and clasped mine tightly, and I feel the love and know I will be safe in his care.  I may not be able to see the distance we have to run, but there is no other person I would sooner run with.

I hope you will all feel able to share some parts of our journey with us, and for that I thank you kindly.