Stubborn Much?

Yes. Yes, I know... My last post was overly dramatic and apparently quite common. I'm really thinking ttwd needs to come with a manual; a kind of roadmap of what to expect along the way. Proclaiming in frustrated tears that it's all over and you will never return and you will be sad forever and forever is just one of the many dips in the ttwd road to marital bliss. To be fair, I almost called it all off last month too, so I think a lot of it has to do with hormones, at least on my end. Also, it was about May of last year that I had a pretty big breakdown, so it could also be that time of year? Who knows...

Our timeline of decline went something like this:

Sunday night: TnT and new rule
Monday: Break rule
Tuesday: Break rule again
Wednesday: Get angry at Hubby for not noticing that I broke the rule twice. Stay up late fighting. Get nothing resolved.
Thursday: Fight more. Resolve nothing yet again. Sob hysterically together. The end of the world has come. Decide that ttwd is over for us.
Friday: Tearful goodbye post. Gather all implements and anything else that could remind me of ttwd and put in trash bag on bed. Stay in bed all day. Have unproductive lunchtime talk with Hubby. Stay in bed more. Finally have one last talk after kids in bed. Make up. Ttwd back on.

What did I learn from this week of craziness? Oh soooo much! First of all, I am stubborn.

Yep...that's me! I think that ttwd should go one way and that's mine. Hubby disagrees. Once again, this is another reason to not compare yourself to other couples in blogland. I wasn't so much comparing us to other couples, as adding what they had to my list of things I want RIGHT NOW. So while I tell Hubby that I want him to lead me and our merry band of rebels, I want him to lead my way. Huh? What's that? I'm not supposed to control the leader? Who says? Oh...

Next thing you know, all hell breaks loose in my all or nothing world. I'm upset because I need Hubby to make me a priority and pay more attention to me. He's upset because while ttwd is hard for him, especially the spanking part, he just wants to make me happy and that doesn't seem to be happening.

Our final conversation went something like this:

You didn't even go 24 hours before breaking the new rule!

You had no intention of following through!

But you didn't give me a chance.

I gave you two days. And besides, you didn't take the cane with you to work and you weren't in your office where I was supposed to meet you no later than 9:05. You didn't even know where I was.

How was I supposed to know unless you tell me? 

If you paid closer attention to me then you would know.

Well, I'm not a tyrant. But that's what you need, isn't it? That's what you are asking of me?

I don't know. Probably. I just know that I'm not always going to rat myself out. 

Okay. If you need a tyrant, I can certainly try to do that for you. 

A few more words and then I was rolled over for a magnet flipping I requested. He started off with the spoon and decided that was what he was taking to work with him to take care of me if need be. It packs quite the sting, even over jeans. Yeeeeeouch!!!

The down the pants and panties went and it was off to the races. He brought out the closer and told me something that surprised the heck out of me. He wasn't sure how much I needed him to spank and it seemed to him that it was never quite enough. He told me that he was going to keep spanking me until I told him to stop.

He spanked for a very long time. Hard. Over and over. I said ouch and owieeee and yelped and groaned. I twisted and turned. I tried to get out of the way but his hand stayed steadfast on my lower back, holding me in place. He alternated cheeks. He stayed with one for several swats and then went to the other. He sped up. He slowed down. He sped up again. I was breathing hard and fast. My butt was on FIRE. He reminded me that I could tell him to stop any time I felt I had had enough. I am a stubborn one. I wasn't giving in until I was darn good and ready too. Okay, I'm darn good and ready now. STOP!

He laid atop me, his weight reassuring me that he loves me and he's here for me. And that was all I needed. My fight was all gone. It had left me completely. I felt his overwhelming love for me in that moment. I thanked him because I knew how hard that had to be for him, waiting for me to say "stop". I apologized yet again for the trainwreck I caused.

I told him that I would stop trying to make ttwd into something it's not ready to be. We will get there soon enough. It doesn't all happen at once. And it certainly doesn't happen in one rule. He can mold it into what he thinks is best for us (with a little input from me of course) and I will follow his lead.

I will not break rules on purpose, especially since he will have the wooden spoon and he knows how much I can take, which is apparently a lot more that either of us thought.

I will have enough respect for him and myself to give my best effort every day.

I am stubborn. But so is he. (I may be a bit more stubborn though as evident by my purple bottom lol)

And they lived happily ever after...

Fantasy Boot Camp Part 2

If you haven't yet read Fantasy Boot Camp Part 1, please do so now. It explains in detail about what my fantasy of boot camp with my husband could be like. It's not a typical girly-girl fantasy. I decided to go more realistic.

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The alarm beeped loudly and annoyingly at 6:30 am. Since the kids weren't home, I saw no reason to get up so darn early. Hubby had set the alarm. Just as I reached for the snooze button, he said, "Turn it off and get out of bed. Now." I whined in my classic I-don't-wanna-and-I'm-gonna-pout-til-you-feel-sorry-for-me-and-give-in way. It had no effect. Apparently he had already gotten up, showered, and dressed. He ordered me into the shower and don't I dare get back into bed. There was work to do! Ugh...

I did as I was told. When I exited our room, he immediately escorted me out the door. We were going to take a nice brisk, early morning walk. He explained to me that from now on, and he would add it to the rules list, that I was to get up when the alarm went off and not a minute later. No more snooze button. I grew indignant at that new rule. One of my few pleasures in life is to purposefully ignore that blasted alarm clock. Now I was sure it would be the bane of my existence.

Our walk completed, it was time for our first homework assignment of the day. We decided to work on easier homework assignments since we determined that the corrective action assignments were all spanking and bound to be both mentally and emotionally taxing for both of us. He again prayed for our day, that we would become a stronger couple for Him, and finish out our boot camp with the love and respect that He intended for us. We each sat down and worked on our relationship components; rating the components and thinking up ways to improve those areas. As I delved into it, I realized that while a lot of things were near perfect, other's were far from it; patience and responsibility being the two I was most concerned with. It was very interesting to see how our views differed on this assignment.

At our breakfast break, I again toyed with my food. My mind was completely on our first corrective action spanking (CAS) exercise. We were instructed by the guide not to talk nor plan out this first session. We were to act as naturally as possible and do what felt right. But we often have different ideas about things. There was no way around it but through it. Hubby saw my nervous anticipation and decided to cut breakfast short for both of our sakes. We could get back to breakfast afterward.

He led me to the bedroom and instructed me to drop my pants. I did as he said, leaving my panties in place, and then bent over the bed. He told me to place my feet shoulder width apart as he placed his hand on the small of my back. My stomach clenched in anticipation of the first smacks. He started lecturing about my projects, because even though the spankings aren't supposed to correct a negative action, he can't spank without reason, be it for fun or for correction. His hand came down, swatting each cheek repeatedly, one blow following the next. Next, he brought out the leather paddle we call "The Motivator". While the swats were hard, they were few. He then pulled down my panties to reveal my slightly pink bottom.

He massaged my bottom and the tops of my thighs. He started to speak again about the importance of finishing what I started before swatting away again. He picked up the paddle once more and spanked, a bit more intense, yet few again. He massaged and talked again. He was bent over beside me, practically whispering in my ear as he rubbed the heat into my skin. He picked up the paddle and spanked the tops of my thighs, at that ever sensitive sits spot. My breath hitched with each blow. I wasn't sure what to think, so I savored it all and waited for it's climax. He laid down the paddle in favor of is favorite implement, "the Closer", a wooden paddle with holes throughout that left a sting you would not believe. A few spanks with it and I was practically jumping in place. He bent beside me and held me. He hated to see me in pain, which is why we had never done a real CAS before. Hubby can be so empathetic, it often gets in the way of the responsibility to enforce necessary actions.

He stood me up, turned me around, and had me sit next to him at the end of the bed. He held me tight as we slowed our breathing together. Emotionally I was nowhere near tears and the physical sting only lingered seconds really. I've had more intense spankings during our TnT sessions. He asked me if I would rather eat  or talk now. I needed a few minutes to collect my thoughts before we delved into the particulars of our first spanking of the day, so I opted for eating. I chewed quietly, thoughtfully, as did he. I tried to order my thoughts so I could speak effectively. I knew this first time wouldn't go as I had planned so carefully in my head, but it was as much my fault as his.

We decided to lay on the bed together. We held hands and stroked each other as we talked. This intimate pillow talk is how we dealt with most things of this nature. He was very receptive to all I had to say about the spanking. I needed him to be less empathetic and more strict disciplinarian. I wanted future CAS's to be dramatically different and easily separated from our TnT and play time spankings. In my mind, there had to be a contrast or it wouldn't be effective. In essence, I needed the CAS to be something I feared so that I would stay properly motivated. I assured him that it wasn't he I would fear, I could never fear him. He's my love. But the CAS should be feared. I'm not afraid of a few swats. I'm not afraid of the suggestion that it could be worse. And I told him to not stop just because I was yelling "Ow!" and "Owieeeeee" and "Ouch". It's supposed to hurt. This is supposed to cause outbursts of "Ow!" and "Stop" and "I'm Sorry!!!" and "I promise" and tears and sobbing. That doesn't mean it stops short. It needs to play through to completion.

On his end, Hubby needed me to stay still and not jump around so much. I said that all I could do is try. Reminders during the CAS would be helpful. He promised to help me remember. It sounded more like a threat to me though. He told me he could tell I wasn't in the right mindset to receive a CAS. It may have been nerves, but our next one should prove to be better, maybe even easier for both of us. We hugged and held each other for several minutes, breathing in unison.

It was time to get up and start the next homework assignment. I was very happy about this one since it was right up my alley; crafting! We were going to put together a date night jar. He would type out ideas for date nights, print them out, and cut them into slips for each idea. I got to decorate the jar. Yay! So I went a little crazy at the craft store for this one. It was a mini project and I got to use my glue gun. Nothing makes me happier than my glue gun. The only thing we needed to do was set a date night and get a steady babysitter. A few phone calls and we could have the answer by the end of the day. Mission accomplished. We both knew the importance of continuing to date each other. We certainly couldn't afford to not put us as a priority.

For lunch we decided to go out and get some fresh air. Well, as much fresh air as we could get at our favorite Cheers-like hang out. We ordered our usuals and made chit chat with the other regulars. It was a relaxing time and great to get out of the house, even if just for a little while. We stopped at the store so we could get a few things to enjoy for dinner and celebrate the night after completion of boot camp. Coming home meant one thing; time for CAS exercise 2. I didn't have high hopes about it and really just wanted to get it over with.

I sighed as we entered the house. We put away groceries and he leaned in for a kiss. Both of us knew what was coming. He hugged me and said that we should get it over with. I sighed again, my heart in my throat. We entered the room and he instructed me to get ready. I pulled down my pants and assumed my position bent over the end of the bed. As he lightly rubbed his hand over my panties, he asked why we were "here"? I told him that we were addressing my need to start projects but never finish them. He said that a lot of what he was about to say would be repeating his earlier lectures, but that he felt it was warranted considering my lengthy history with this particular issue.

His hand started swatting like it was on a mission to light a fire with the radiant heat that would soon emanate from my punished bottom. Once he moved to the leather paddle, I knew I was in for it. The swats were hard. He didn't hold back. It was if he had a number in his head and he was sticking to it no matter how much I yelped. The panties came down and rubbing and hand-swatting alternated as he punctuated his statements. I was not getting out of this one. He had taken a whole new attitude. He reminded me of the time he was helping me move out of my apartment and into his and how he made me throw away 3 large bags of jeans I had saved up to make a denim quilt. He said that he wished he knew then that a spanking would've saved him years of frustration and me years of guilt.

He grabbed the leather paddle and spanked in earnest. I started to jump but he swatted lower on my thighs and warned that unless I wanted more there, then I should stop. I moaned and whimpered in frustration. I couldn't catch my breath. He stopped just short of me apologizing profusely and begging him to stop, like he knew I was at a breaking point. He rubbed my red cheeks and started talking again. His words grew in intensity and strength and meaning. I had no doubt in my mind that he didn't want to have this talk again, but he would if I pushed it. Even with my mini project we just completed, I had left a mess in my wake. He let it be known that he would not put up with it any more. The third volley of swats with the leather and then the wooden paddles had me gasping for breath. I had made it past my anger to a space where the tears were about to come. A burning sting radiated through me. With every spank of the wooden paddle, I came to understand the need for this. It was slowly erasing my guilt.

Hubby dropped the implement in his hand and collapsed on top of me. He held me tight once more. He felt this punishment as surely as I did. We knew, as we looked into each other's eyes, that this CAS was finished, but the issue was not over yet. We had to do this one more time before the day was done. Neither of us wanted to. But boot camp isn't about what we want to do. Hubby, having been through 3 separate boot camps for different reasons (beginning, school, and something else I can't remember), knew from experience that it's about tearing us down and building us back up stronger and better than before. And it was equally hard on both of us. I may have to endure 3 pretty intense spankings when all is said and done, but I'm learning so much about being submissive and what to fear and what to respect. He is learning that he has to be strong and be a man of his word in this, even though he desperately doesn't want to. I became awed over the strength that he had to possess in order to accomplish this task. He was my rock and forever would be. My love for him poured out in kisses all over his face.

A short rest and we were ready for the next homework assignment; Bible verses. Because the assignment was relatively short, we decided to come up with a plan to put our spiritual lives first. We outlined an evening ritual for prayer and bible study. We wanted to include God more in our lives. We had been grossly negligent in that aspect and it showed in the way our home looked, in our financial situation, and in our parenting. Such simple principles seemed so hard for us to navigate. And now we are dealing with the outcome. But it wasn't to late to change. Our lives would be the better for it all. We just needed this boot camp experience to push us in the right direction, and then use the momentum to better all aspects of our lives. This wasn't because I am a "spanko". There's plenty of time for that when we have our adult play time. This was for us, all of us. With strength and discipline, we could make this work.

I made a salad while Hubby grilled steak. He's perfected steak grilling over the years. The right cut, the right seasoning, the right grilling time... He had it down. I was happy just to put a simple salad together and some instant mashed potatoes. Hubby put on some soft music in the background. I felt like it was our first date all over again. It felt as though we had a fresh start. Even though we knew each other for years, we were new again. We smiled at each other, made small talk, shared inside jokes. We talked about what we would most like to watch after we were done with our last assignment; most decidedly something light and funny. Snacks and dessert. Comfort to come.

At the announcement from Hubby that it was time for our final CAS, something in me snapped. I had such a good time at dinner and I didn't feel like having a CAS right then. I got downright cranky. This is when Mr. HoH/Drill Sergeant decided to take me in hand once and for all. He backed me up against the wall, pinning me there with his weight, and towering over me, he bored holes through my eyes into my soul. He said, "You will obey me!" and I melted into a puddle of submission. He saw in my eyes that he had conquered me once and for all. Now it was just time to get down to the business that neither of us wanted to, but this was boot camp and it was getting done. This was a taste of what was to come if I chose to disobey. I was going to get what I wanted; fear of that kind of spanking. I may have already been sore from earlier "exercises" but even in real boot camp you will do pushups with sore and tired arms until you are crying in pain and then even past that.

I assumed the position; pants down, legs apart, hands on the bed above my head. I couldn't tell if my heart was beating fast or had stopped completely. I know I stopped breathing. He told me he was sorry he had to do this, but it was necessary. It was the only way to get through to me that this project problem had to stop. I was no longer allowed to start any project without his permission first, no matter how small or insignificant I thought it was. I was to start completing past projects, starting with the ones stacked in our closet. Each project I presented for completion would be approved by him and a time limit set. It was no longer a matter of whether the project was important or necessary. It was the principle of it. Finish what you start. He asked if I was ready and with a deep breath I said I was.

He swatted with his hand the already sore areas of my rear. I winced and whined. He started his lecture anew, emboldened by his triumph over my will. "Why are we here?" he asked. "Because I...ow...I...uh...my unfinished projects" I managed to get out between swats. "Why else?" he prodded. "Because from...owwww....now on....ahhhh...I have to ask...owieeeee...permission to start....oooooohhhh...projects" I said through gritted teeth. "Are you angry?" he asked, but didn't wait for my answer. "Because I am. All these years. All this clutter. It's not acceptable and I won't put up with it any more." And with that he yanked down my panties. He brought out the leather paddle again and rubbed my flaming cheeks with it's cool smoothness. "What are we going to do about it?" he asked as he kept rubbing. I must've hesitated a second too long because the paddle came down on me as he punctuated each word of his question again. "What" smack "are" smack "we" smack "going" smack "to" smack "do" smack "about" smack "it?" smack-smack-smack. I was nearly out of breath as I clenched my jaw and the words "finish what I start" dripped with venom from my lips. He paused.

My attitude was clearly in need of adjusting. While I was tired of the subject, I had not yet submitted to his lead. In my head I had thought of dozens of ways around this new rule. I didn't want to submit to it. After all, I can speed just enough to not get caught. Where there's a will... My thoughts were broken by the crack of the wooden paddle on my flesh. "You will obey me in this." he said matter-of-factly. He had found a rhythm with this tool and planned to use it effectively. His words poured out over me seeking to reach the depths of my soul. Over and over he told me that he loved me but this attitude was going to stop. He needed me to accept his lead in this matter. That the expense and the clutter hurt us both. And that if I was watching our children at all, I could easily see that my actions were infecting them. At the mention of our children, I broke into a thousand tiny pieces. Tears poured out. I couldn't hold back the gut-wrenching sobs. My guilt that I had largely ignored was finally coming to the surface. It just needed a way out to make a change.

He stopped the swatting and with one hand on the small of my back to keep me in place, he used the other to stroke my hair. "That's my girl" he said so sweetly and lovingly. "I want you to know that I love you so much. I'm sorry, but this next part is not going to be easy for either of us. And when we are done, I will hold you and we can talk." And with that, I heard the jingle of his belt and I knew. There was no going back. This is how it would be from now on. This was something to fear. And what made it all the more agonizing was knowing that I did this. Me. I was the cause of emotional distress. And when I do things like that, this is what will happen. No more conniving. No more sneaking. No more lies. All is laid bare.

He wielded the belt lightly at first and then increased the intensity as he laid his final points to rest. The pain was unquestionably different from any that our other implements induced. It was an ache that I never wanted to experience again and would at all costs avoid. And that was the point, was it not? For both of us to experience what a real corrective action spanking would be like? So different in every aspect that it could not be confused with anything else? There were no more questions. There was no more talk. The last slaps of the belt met a resounding echo of sobs and apologies. Hubby picked me up and held me. He covered me in kisses as he rubbed my tender flesh. We had come through it. We were strong. I had a deep respect for my husband. He could and would spank me. Because I asked him to. Because I needed him to. Because it was best for us and our family. This time it was I who was proud of him. He did the right thing. Upon telling him this, he sighed deeply and buried his head into my chest. I stroked his hair and kissed his head. One last squeeze and it was time to do one last homework assignment and then we were home free.

We finished out our boot camp experience with a Domestic Discipline Anniversary Letter. It was hard to imagine what one year later would look like. How many times did I break rules? How many times would I face the corner, or worse yet, the belt? I had imagined though that through it all I would come out a shining example of a wife and mother. For the betterment of all of us.

The rest of the night we laid in each other's arms. We skipped the movie, snacks, and ice cream. Instead we made sweet, tender love. We were both spent, our boot camp now over and the opportunity of a new life in front of us. I stayed in Hubby's capable arms all night; happy, content, cherished, loved...

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There is so much more to the Domestic Discipline Boot Camp for Beginners guide by Clint and Chelsea at Learning Domestic Discipline than I "experienced" here. I encourage you to get a copy for your own. You will see that along with an outline of how it should go, there are several more punishment choices and dozens of exercises to chose from. Buy the book and the accompanying workbook if you are at all interested in this. It's not for everyone, but they really did do a good job with this book. I'm glad I bought it!
PS. No, I did not receive any sort of compensation for my endorsement. I wrote this solely because I believe it would work for me.

He Did It and Is This Normal?

I'm not even sure where to start with this one. I've had a million post titles run thought my head: Saddle Sore, Shaken not Stirred, My Place...I finally settled for what you see up there, and at the point that I am writing this, I'm not even sure what it is.

My mind is in a confused jumble of emotions I don't know how to begin to process. I guess I should explain what happened...

Hubby took me in hand last night. He stepped up big time. He said he had time to think and he knows what I need. He lectured and spanked, lectured and spanked, and lectured and spanked some more. He said so much last night that I can't begin to remember it all. I'm not even sure how most of you remember what's being said as you are being spanked.

He told me so much; everything I needed to hear. Not necessarily what I wanted to hear, but I needed it. It was encouraging, supportive, stern, loving, and controlled. He spoke carefully, definitively, about how he was going to lead our household and start setting things right.  He talked about how we need to start reading the Bible with the kids and start living like God would want instead of squandering what He has given us. He talked about how we need to be an example to our kids, how I'm not always going to want to do what he needs me to, and how sometimes he may get frustrated, and how that may mean consequences, and how I am stronger than I give myself credit for, and how he's watched me for 12 years and knows me and what I can handle and knows what I can't.

In the end, he pulled out the wood paddle with the holes to help drive his point home. He calls it "the closer", but based on my reaction to it, he wants to call it "the defibrillator". It stings like crazy!!! He spanked relentlessly and I went into a panic. I lost control. I couldn't be still. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think of anything. I was confused and in an adrenaline tailspin. It was the tipping point. I'm not sure when, but he stopped the spanking and laid on top of me and I started to cry. It's wasn't the cry I expected. I thought it would be a culmination of all the guilt I was carrying. I thought it would be the guilt that pulled me into tears. But it wasn't. The panic, the adrenaline... I couldn't catch my breath and the tears came between gasps.

I felt a deep remorse, a desire to make things right. I cried "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" over and over again. He held me tightly and comforted me. He was the strong man I always needed him to be. He did everything right. He is amazing. I want nothing more than to please him. And maybe that's why I was crying. I was stuck in a rut where I knew I wasn't pleasing him and I'm not sure I wanted to. He pulled me out of it and put me in my place. No, not "my place" as in where a woman belongs or some nonsense. He put me in the place that I belong; the safe, warm place where I can relax because I know that he's got me.

This morning, I am filled with so many emotions and I'm not sure what they all are. I feel liberated and excited. At the same time, I feel tentative and sober. I feel afraid because this is a new change and I hate change. But I need this change. I need it desperately. I feel like I want to cry and rejoice all at once. I feel alive. I feel connected, not just to him, but to others too. I want to go around hugging everyone. I feel what he wanted me to feel; empowered.

I'm grateful to Hubby for spanking me to tears. Honestly, I didn't think it was possible. I'm afraid it will happen again, and yet I need it to happen again and again and again. I need to be pushed over the brink and to fall into his safe and loving embrace. I need to push and feel his strength in return.

So there you have it. DD is in full force. We are back in the saddle, this time with the intention to ride it out, for as long as we both shall live. The veil has been lifted. He is HoH. I am TiH. I am his fully, completely.

But what is this jumble in my head? Is this normal? I don't remember being able to feel more than one emotion at a time and yet it feels as though they have come out all at once. Do you know what I mean?

(((hugs)))

The Two Most Powerful Words

 (This is just a story. As much as I want this, it hasn't yet happened. I doubt it ever will. C'est la vie)

My husband arranges for the kids to be taken to grandma's overnight. It's been a long time coming. We don't get much time to ourselves. We spend an afternoon lollygagging about; some shopping, a movie, dinner at our favorite restaurant...It's getting late. I imaging when we get home I will fix us a drink and we will watch tv until it's time to go to bed; like we do every night. But we get home and he brings me into our bedroom instead. He has me sit on the bed with him so we can have a "talk". A lump forms in my throat because I know I'm probably in trouble. I've never been in any real trouble, so I'm a bit on edge. He starts lecturing me about how he is disappointed in me; how I have been acting up. He's tired of me treating my body like garbage. He is tired of me being depressed. He's had it with my nonchalant attitude, with my selfishness, and with my lack of motivation. My selfish attitude toward him and the kids is completely unacceptable. He's going to do what he should've done a long time ago. He's going to spank me and hard. I am in disbelief. Did he really just say "spank"?

And then it happens. He stands me up on his right side as he still sits on the bed. He tugs my shorts so that the fall down to my ankles. Then he says the two most powerful words to me I could have ever imagined, "Bend Over" followed by a "Now!" My heart skips and for a moment I forget how to breathe. I take a bit too long to let the words go from my ears to my actions so he gently takes hold of my left wrist and pulls me over his lap. He reiterates his reasons for my punishment while he places his large hand on my bottom, slightly smoothing out my panties.

The first swat lands with a resounding clap, and then another, and another. He tells me he loves me too much to let this go on. Another round of swats. He tells me he's doing this for my good and asks me if I understand. Without warning, 4 more hard spanks and a slightly frustrated "DO. YOU. UNDERSTAND?". "Yes Sir" I whine. "Good. Let's continue," is all he says as he delivers 10 more swats. Then he pulls my panties down to mid-thigh. He inspects my naked bottom for a moment, feeling the rising heat and noting the light pinking taking place. He asks me, "Why are you getting punished?" As I recount the myriad of reasons why I deserve this I feel his hand come down again and again. The sound rings in my ears and the sting forces me to be aware of what I've brought upon myself.

He then picks up the hairbrush and says, "I'm sorry I have to do this but you have left me no other choice. You're self-destructive behavior has got to stop! You have to start putting your family first!" I lose my breath as the sting from the brush lands squarely, alternating sides, time and time again in quick succession. In my head I tell myself repeatedly that I deserve this, because I know I do. I know I deserve every spank and then some.

My bottom is completely warmed, but I know he is far from done. He pulls me up and sets me next to him. My bottom stings as I sit on the soft blanket. "I'm sorry" I whisper. "Are you?" he chides."Are you really? Because I don't think you understand the depths of these issues." With a long, deep, and worried stare into my eyes he tells me how our children need their mother and he needs his wife. My self-deprecation sets a bad example. My willingness to let the laundry, the house, and the attention to our family slide is hurting everyone around me. I come to tears at that last statement. "You WILL put aside your self-pity and you WILL start taking care of yourself and your family!" he says firmly. I openly weep.

He guides me over his lap again. I cry as he spanks me slowly with the brush. I'm lost in a sea of overwhelming emotions. He's right. I know he's right. I'm disappointed with myself. He asks me to repeat after him. "I" *spank* "will" *spank* "put" *spank* "my" *spank* "family" *spank* "first" *spank*. I repeat the line with him. "Again," he said softly. As I say the words on my own, the depth of them reverberate in my heart. "Again." My heart sinks into my stomach as my own words crush me from the realization of how horribly selfish I have been. Sobs emanate from me and cue him to rain down several hard spanks to my reddened bottom. 

He picks me up and holds me as I cry, my tear-stained face twisted in utter contempt of myself at what I have done. "I will not allow you to emotionally belittle yourself over this. Feeling sorry for yourself will not persuade you to take action. It only stunts your growth. You need a clean slate." I nod in agreement. He is right. Very right. He stands up and removes his belt. After piling the pillows in the center of the bed, he helps me lay across them with my naked bottom up in the air, exposed. I know this will be the most painful part of my lesson. I think I'm ready for it, but then he starts to speak to me again.

"Why do you dislike yourself so much?" he asks. "Because I'm fat and ugly and a worthless piece of crap." I respond. "You" *spank* "Are" *spank* "Beautiful" *spank*. The belt punctuates his words. "Let me say it again. You" *spank* "Are" *spank* "Beautiful" *spank*. I sob openly again. *spank* *spank* *spank* "I love you and you need to know this." he says softly. "You" *spank* "Are" *spank* "Loved" *spank*. I am overwhelmed. *spank* *spank* *spank* "We need you. You can't keep doing this to yourself." He pauses momentarily. "You" *spank* "Are" *spank* "Wanted"*spank*. I can no longer hold it back. I'm lost in a sea of indescribable emotions all forcefully trying to escape at once.The belt comes down 6 more times rapidly. I hear him drop the belt and pick up the brush once more. He kneels next to me on the bed and places his left hand on the small of my back.

"I want to hear you say what is going to change. I want to hear the lessons you've learned tonight." he quietly demands. "You love me," I choke out. "Yes!" *spank*. "I am beautiful," I cry. "Yes!" *spank*. "I can do a better job at being a wife and mother," more sobs. "Yes!" *spank* *spank*. "What else?" he asks gently. What else have you learned?" he asks with the brush at the ready. I racked my brain. What was it that was at the crux of all of this emotion? What was it that had me all bound up? Why was I so self-destructive? I didn't want to say it. My dark reason for all of this was at the tip of my tongue but I couldn't let it out. How could I keep hating myself if I spoke against the lie? *spank* *spank* *spank* *spank* *spank* *spank* He catches me off guard. "Don't think about it. Say what it is. What else have you learned? What is the main lesson of all this? What are you holding back?" *spank* *spank* *spank*

"I...I..a-am NOT worthless," I say almost breathlessly through gritted teeth as I shake my head. *spank* *spank* *spank* *spank* "That's right. You" *spank* "Are" *spank* "Not" *spank* "Worthless" *spank*. I convulse with sobbing as the realization of what I had been doing strikes me. He keeps spanking me as I let it all out. When I quiet down, he lays the brush aside and rubs my back gently. He helps me up and holds me tight as my breathing normalizes. He kisses me on the forehead. I look up at him, eyes puffy, face red, and he says he finds me beautiful and loves me so much. He kisses my lips and my mouth parts as the kiss deepens. I am swept off my feet. Making love has never been so intense, so gratifying, so defining. I am his. I am beautiful. I will be a good wife and mother. I am not worthless...

Take me in Hand

In my research about who I am and what I want, I came across Taken In Hand, a website about relationships somewhere between equality and domestic discipline.

From Taken in Hand:

A Taken In Hand relationship is a wholehearted sexually exclusive marriage in which, to the delight of both spouses, the man actively controls the woman. The degree of control and the way the husband retains control vary from Taken In Hand couple to Taken In Hand couple, but in all cases both husband and wife actively want the husband to be in charge. No matter how strong, tough and forceful a Taken In Hand wife may be, and no matter how hard she might try to take control in their marriage, she would be aghast if her husband were to let her get the upper hand. Likewise, no matter how loving, kind and considerate the husband may be, he prefers to keep his wife firmly in hand.
The woman is unlikely to identify with the word “submissive”, and especially at the beginning of the relationship may need to be thoroughly conquered. The man wears the trousers but he puts the relationship and his wife first. His control is active and ongoing rather than passive or a one-off.

When it came to the word "conquered" I was almost put off, yet thoroughly intrigued. What does it mean to be "conquered"?

From Taken in Hand: (with highlights from me on the parts that I find attractive)
 

The subjection of women

Subjection: (noun) 1. The act of exercising lordship or control; dominion, domination, control. 2. Submission; obedience. 3. Subordination. 4. Subjugation. etc. (Source: an ancient OED)
Subjection: 1. forced submission to control by others. 2. the act of conquering; conquest. (Source: princeton.edu)
Conquest: (noun) 1. the act of conquering. 2. mastery of something difficult. 3. the act of winning the love or sexual favour of someone.
The subjection of women raises the ire not just of a few feminists but of all decent people. Women who want to be brought into subjection—and there are many such women—have a lot of explaining to do. Men who countenance subjection—are there any? Given the risk of being thought to be an abusive predator, is it any wonder that the idea of subjection—even if the woman wants that—is repugnant to most men?
Subjection is not for sissies. It is difficult. It is dangerous. It isn't the done thing. It sounds non-consensual.
Like rape.
Actively exercising control; dominating. Forced submission to control by others. Forced.
It is easy to get so tangled up in the words that we lose perspective. We forget that conquering the woman and bringing her into subjection wins her heart. We lose sight of the fact that after forced comes submission. We get hung-up on the form at the expense of the substance.
“Bring a woman into subjection? No! I must have consent, or I will not control. I abhor violence! I am a firm believer in fully equal rights for women.”
“What I want is a submissive woman who will willingly surrender, not a shrew who needs to be tamed.”
“Forced submission? If submission is not freely given, I don't want it!”
If a woman wants to be brought into subjection, ipso facto, she is fully consenting.
If a woman wants to be brought into subjection, that is not like The Subjection Of Women. It deprives no one of any rights.
If a woman wants to be brought into subjection, it is not like The Taming of the Shrew. She gives her submission just as freely and willingly as the one who surrenders.
The form may be non-consensual, but the substance is fully consensual.
“But why does she want this? If she wants her man to lead, why doesn't she just follow him?”

Some women want and need to be brought into subjection. They crave the man's control and respond positively to active control, but without active control on his part submission is impossible. These women cannot fake submission; it must be real. It cannot be a pretence, a role-playing game or a lifeless cardboard cut-out imitation. It must be from the heart and soul, no hint of artificiality, acting or mendacity. But when a man brings such a woman into subjection and thereby releases her delitescent submissiveness, the power and reality and unforced naturalness of her submission can be awe-inspiring.

Do not be misled by a woman's need for subjection: it does not mean that she is dominant but in denial. It is often the most resistant women who are the most deeply submissive.

Such a woman might feel the need to be controlled whether she likes it or not—constrained by an unstoppable force; restrained; bound, reined in; no choice; no decisions, hers; under his authority, his lordship, his control—not because of incompetence, emotional lability or any lack of desire to take responsibility for her own actions, and not because she needs a man to make decisions for her, but just because that is the way it has to be. Because it feels right and proper. Because primal forces compel it. Because she wants it and he relishes it. Because to worship his power and strength, she must feel his power and strength even when her own is undiminished. Her full self in all its strength, overpowered, conquered, in subjection. Resisting, and finding that resistance is futile, she can finally relax. She needs that safety. She needs to be sure that he won't crumble under her strength. She needs not to be in control, not to have a choice, not to place limits on the man's power. No lists of rules for the man to follow, no shoulds, no ifs and buts, no no's. In subjection. Letting go completely. Peace. Floating on air. Effortless flying. Paradoxes. Out of body and totally relaxed, yet so present and excited that the intensity is indescribable. Power in powerlessness. Freedom in chains. Deep autonomy in bondage. The self strengthened in subjection. She stoops to conquer. Force wins her love. Deep serenity. Surrender. Peace.

Men who have brought a woman to that state—that melted, peaceful, dreamy state, that state of grace—have spoken of it with awe in their voices and echoes of ecstasy in their eyes. They have talked about the delectability of it, the life-changing power of it, the intense eroticism of it. They do not sound like burdened, resentful men who have grudgingly beaten a woman into subjection.
Nor should it be assumed that the force required to bring a woman into subjection is necessarily violent. It might be, or it might not be. It might involve physically restraining a woman, or physically forcing her to obey, or it might not. The force required in the subjection of women is not necessarily physical at all, but psychological: force of will. It might just involve a kindly quiet word here or a little firmness there. It can happen when a man merely looks at a woman, piercing her eyes with his until she is too flustered to hold his gaze.
The force only works to the extent that it reaches the woman's heart and mind. It only works if she wants it.
“Be that as it may, why would a man have any interest in fighting a woman for control?”
Whether physical or purely psychological, the subjection of a willing woman is not fighting. Fighting is sniping spouses lashing out at each other. Fighting is wounding words that can never be unsaid. Fighting is cruelty and spite, pain and distress.
If a woman wants to be brought into subjection, it is not like that. It is nothing like that.
“But still, the question remains, why bother?”
For fun. For the adventure. For the higher purpose of creating the conditions under which the two of you can scale the highest, most challenging mountain of life together, working together and supporting one another all the way.
Because not every woman is happy to pretend to be something she is not. Because not everyone feels right when she fakes submission.
Because not every woman can be submissive in the absence of subjection.
Because if the two of you behave in ways natural for each of you instead of trying to act out stereotypical roles, the relationship that evolves between you will be richer, deeper, and more genuinely suited to the two of you as the unique individuals you are.
Because if you can bring a woman into subjection without needing her to diminish herself to make it possible for you, you will have fully mastered her, and you will both know that, and it will inform all her actions in the future.

Because when such a woman is brought into subjection, she bonds so strongly and completely that there is nothing she wouldn't do for you.

Because that is what it may take to make her totally yours.

“Sounds like a lot of work to me. Why would any man want a woman who is so difficult?”
Why, indeed?
Most don't, of course. Most prefer the path (or indeed woman) of least resistance. Most prefer “easy”. And that's fine—for them.
But some of us—men and women alike—do not stick to the easy path through life. Some of us prefer “difficult”—because worthwhile endeavours are usually difficult, and that which is easy often turns out to be less valuable in the end. Sauntering along a well-travelled path doesn't take us where we want go. We want to scale the highest mountain.
And if you want to scale the highest mountain, you have to be sure that the person you are climbing with is up to the climb. It would be no good trying to drag someone weak or unwilling up the mountain.
Some men with “mountain-climbing” aspirations have no time for the idea of subjection. They are impatient to begin the exciting adventure, and understandably just want to get on with it, not have their ascent impeded by a resistant woman. To them, a woman who needs to be brought into subjection is a woman who is pulling in the opposite direction before they have even started the climb.
But, gentlemen, what that woman is doing is not impeding the climb but sensibly checking all the ropes and other climbing equipment, double-checking that they are both strong enough for the climb, and querying any potential problems she has identified so that they will be as well-prepared as possible when the climb gets tough. The better prepared they are for the climb ahead, the better the actual climb will be. If a man is too impatient, lacking in insight about what their intended endeavour entails, or unrealistic or blasé about the dangers, is it a good idea for the woman to put her life in his hands?
Some men do understand a woman's need to make these pre-climb checks, and (with a willing woman) enjoy the challenge and find it amusing that a woman might question or try to test their strength. They do not find it insulting or threatening, they find it a fun aspect of conquering a woman. It would never occur to these men to complain or ask a woman to be more submissive or obedient: they simply take action and handle the woman. They relish the contest of wills that brings the woman into subjection, just as those passionate about sword fighting relish their next fight. It's all part of the adventure!
These men inspire worship. Reverence. Deep gratitude. An overwhelming desire to kneel, to please, to obey. Passion. Peace.
In subjection. Mastered. Conquered. His.

There, in a nutshell, is what I long for. I am a strong, capable woman and will always be so. No amount of submission on my part with diminish that. But I want Hubby to take me in hand, conquer me... For me, this is romance. This is sweeping me off my feet.

A girl can dream, right?

Finally, I leave you with this link to an overview of Taken in Hand. There is so much to the Taken in Hand website; articles, stories, information, and a forum. I foresee myself spending many, many hours there!