Daily Maintenance Spanking

 A couple of weeks ago I was given an idea which I immediately embraced. Thus, a joint email was sent to both my husband and me. It outlined an idea which the kink friendly therapist we have been using, on and off, had found to be successful with several of his recent clients.

In essence the idea was for me to be given a daily maintenance spanking. We would be working towards five minutes a day. It was no problem to work up to that amount of time, but to cap it at five minutes. No other directive was given, except that if the spanking led to a play session or sex, that was fine.

I had mentioned to my husband to expect an email and once he received it, and I let the dust settle a bit, I asked if it was something he thought might work for us. He was fine with it, he said, so long as I was fine with it. I have noticed this pattern, that he wants what would make his girl happy, consistently.

Several days went by. I admit I was a bit frustrated. I think he noticed that too. He came to me one morning out of the blue and said we would start now. It was a loving spanking, peppered with lots of soft and loving touch.

We got to Friday and that was a very busy day for me. We had had a lovely evening out together at a concert and by the evening I was looking for a shower and bed. He came to me at a low energy point, and I wasn't able to be sweet enough in my request for a shower first. He noticed. He always notices these things.

I got the rounds of the kitchen later. He made it clear that he was in charge of when things happened and how they happened. He was quite right about that.

The following morning the spanking was memorable, and my memory of that day is that I was quiet, co-operative, sore and present. It was far too soon to know what this daily spanking was doing to me, to us. Each day had been a bit different to the one before, in terms of a reaction, so I was in a 'just noticing' state. I noticed that I was a bit out of sorts but only in an internal way. Just, noticing.

The following morning, I asked if he was okay with using his hand. I had a feeling about this, and he admitted that his hand had acquired a deep bruise. He showed it to me. He is on a lot of medication, and I had already wondered if it was going to be an impediment.

It would have to be an implement, I assured him. I didn't want to see him hurt. That wasn't the idea at all. 

We both did a search of suitable items. He had a wooden paddle and a leather one. I had a wooden hairbrush. The cane wasn't going to work, nor the flogger, the strap or the crop. They were all there somewhere, but we only searched for the paddles. I wouldn't say I am not a masochist but nor am I an ardent masochist. I can be quickly brought to heel at the thought of a sound beating.

He selected the leather paddle, because he is sensible and that was enough of an upgrade from his hand for now. In truth, his hand hurt more the previous day, but the paddle induced sexual excitement almost immediately, and he struggled not to turn it into an instant sexual encounter. 

The man is on androgen replacement therapy so technically speaking what happened isn't supposed to happen. However, spanking can illicit these sorts of results. So, he did that and then spanked again later.

I think a threshold we have to get over is that I can't prevent myself from making a lot of noise when paddled and I think this can throw him off, as if I can't take the pain. It's not easy, for sure, but it's something that has to be worked up to, not at all insurmountable.

It occurred to me, as it would to any sensible person, that there are some issues to address. Is it not the case that after a few weeks of this, one is going to be almost constantly marked? And, what about sexual appetite? What about the ability to concentrate on other matters?

I went looking for material about daily maintenance spanking and found very little of use. One couple has partaken for the past 18 months every single day and has nothing but a glowing report (pun intended) of the practice. That's reassuring, but it does have to be noted we are talking about a self-professed intense sadist and masochist. I wish I could hear from others who are perhaps a little more mainstream in this non-mainstream practice.

So far, all is good. We have both agreed to this and what's important here is that we stick to our agreement.

One thing I have noted already is that it has brought out his desire for a dominant stance overall. We have an agreement that I don't start to eat my dinner before he takes his first bite or tells me I can begin to eat. We had takeout last night, a very rare thing these days, as I usually cook meals that suit his needs, and it completely slipped my mind. He noticed. I was pleased he had noticed. I definitely had erred, and he told me I had earned a disciplinary stroke. 

Ah, he wants to do that too. So be it. I am delighted. I want him to want this.

I think the thing about agreeing to something like a daily spanking is that it is an instant recognition of the polarity between us, an instant recognition of the power dynamic at play. Whilst I don't have months or years of experience of it to be able to recommend it, the initial results are more than satisfactory.

90 days

 I've not been a person who worries too much about New Year resolutions. It did, however, occur to me today that if I were to nominate a period of time, and the time in mind is 90 days, what could I achieve in that time?

In today's political world 90 days sounds like an eternity but in fact it's a rather short period of time - maybe 13 weeks. That's really no time at all. It might be interesting to record the goals, the challenges and achievements of a time period like this. Maybe not a lot changes on the outside, maybe it does, but most interesting, what might change on the inside?

In fact, yesterday I did a lot of work in a single hour. I was led into trance again and we explored the older me, the one close to death, who advised the 60 something me.  That was cool. However, it led to a new feeling, I explained, because my mother was close to the end of her life and beyond being able to say the things that I would love to hear. There was sadness around that.

Back I went down and created for myself a different end to this story where she expressed her love, her pride, her delight in having raised us and watch us live our lives. That was lovely.

This work is complete, we believe. There will be a check-in in 90 days and that has me wondering, what will I be like in 90 days? Will I have grown, will I be content, will I have some new endeavour in which to express creativity?

I am thinking of the Truman Show here and wondering what it would be like to wake up with no history? That's not exactly dementia. My mother has forgotten big slices of her life. She has returned to her childhood with her mother and lives quite happily there. She has taken a few things with her, like her dog who isn't alive, but in her mind, she is. It's all a bit jumbled but it makes sense to her and that's all that matters.

What if we lived in a universe where there was no remembered past and we woke up fresh every morning, ceasing the day? That sounds a bit like that strange series I started watching where the workers forget what they did at work. Hmm

What I mean is, imagine if there really was just 'Now'? 

'Imagine all the people living life in peace."

Anyways, enough ramblings, let's see.

The Unconscious Mind

 I heard someone say this week that when a baby cries and demands your attention, the baby is experiencing anxiety.

I also heard someone say this week that for some children, one of the few times they got their parent's full attention was when they were being spanked and therein lies the kink later.

I have come to know through my own personal experience, that we carry symbols in our minds for states such as anxiety. I am not going to reveal my symbol for anxiety since it is immaterial. You will have your own symbol, just as you have a symbol in the recesses of your mind to transpose the symbol that can enable the anxiety to be deactivated.

I will share that when this was revealed to me, I tried to kill the big angry thing without success and I tried to transform the beast into a sweet, kind, pretty little thing, also with limited success. It wasn't until around two days later, that I was told by the kind, pretty little thing, that the big angry thing roaring in my face wasn't real, it was just a soft, inanimate fluffy toy, that the anxiety lost all its punch.

All was revealed and in doing so, I suddenly have huge control over the anxiety. It's a weird story but also a true one.

It's not the whole of the story because part two of that story is that I got in touch, also in a symbolic way, with the wisest part of myself, and I lessened the control of the voice inside my head that thought she was helping me with her advice, but she no longer was. What had happened was that that voice hadn't taken in that I was no longer young. The advice was no longer working. When order was reestablished, when the Wise Woman was given the deciding vote over all the other voices, everything became clear. (Refer to Internal Family Systems)

Yesterday, being Sunday and a day when we were alone, my husband invited me back into the bedroom to play. He asked me to crawl into the room, something that in ideal circumstances would have been wonderful for me, but my heart wasn't in it. 

'I am sorry, I am not sure I can do this right now,' I said.

I was still kneeling on the floor when he asked me to explain.

'I would rather not,' I said.

I just didn't want a fight. I didn't want to trigger him into feeling some sort of negative state.

He was insistent, and I registered in his voice a real desire to understand.

So, I said it.

I explained about our different brains and how they take things in. I said he was inviting me into a messy room, in a house that he had neglected for years, and that my need for beauty and order was something he wasn't taking seriously. I understood that he felt he had other priorities, and I had been patient, exceedingly patient and understanding, but this was truly hurting my spirit.

'I am not certain you know what you have,' I said.

'Go take a shower,' he said, 'We will go out for breakfast.'

We walked; we talked. We were both calm and we enjoyed our time in the cafe.

When we returned home, he had decided on a home project; again it's immaterial what it was, but in the process of this task, something I had asked for previously a number of times, he began to get clarity himself over what we could achieve ourselves, spending very little money.

In other words, we began to be on the same page.

Was it the spirit and courage of the Wise Woman that had made a difference? It's hard to say, but certainly there was no animosity displayed by either of us.

It's the advice of the other voice (I call her Edwina) that has made me do all sorts of useless things - like fawn, like fight, like freeze; like allow my needs to be neglected.

Yesterday morning, I was just being authentic. I calmly, courageously and confidently expressed my thoughts and feelings and he in turn told me what to do (to take a shower) and I did it.

In a long-term relationship, a power exchange is not a scene. The dominance and submission weaves itself into the fabric of the lives of the people in the exchange.

If a submissive doesn't speak up, (in the right way and when the opportunity presents itself) I think the dominant runs the risk of steam rolling the submissive. He's busy, he's productive, she keeps life humming along for him in a day-to-day way. Where's the problem? As in, where's the problem for him?

I'm not exactly sure why it worked yesterday. I think it was when I talked about beauty and my huge struggles with ugliness and disorder. I told him I wouldn't last in his office for a day. I couldn't sit amongst millions of pieces of paper and files over every surface. My brain would revolt.

I can't see into his mind but I think he saw that first of all, he needed his submissive to see that he was willing to take her feelings into account; that this wasn't a time to ensure obedience but rather this was a time for assuring her that he had respect for her need for beauty and order; that the state of her home mattered to her and always would.

I was told, on good authority, that my anxiety had been removed permanently. I had reason to believe that this had been done before, actual proof. I was hopeful but it seemed too good to be true.

And yet, these changes do seem extraordinarily profound. Each day brings new opportunities to be optimistic and to move forward with confidence.

Thank you, my clever, wonderful unconscious mind. If only I had befriended you before, but it is never too late to learn.