Hi, everyone. Recently I’ve gone ahead and made my older blog private, so that only those who’ve been added to it can access this one. I did this because of some recent concerns with my privacy. I’d like to continue blogging, but I’m thinking through how I’m going to do this and still maintain privacy and anonymity. I will keep you posted. Hope you are all doing well!

  I’ve mentioned before how long it’s been since I was punished. I’ve missed it, somehow, for so many reasons. The submissive in me likes knowing there are boundaries. I feel content knowing that Jason has the authority to do this, by my consent. Plus, I think it’s hot. His stern demeanor, and the actual reckoning over his knee.     I don’t like it when it happens, though. It hurts, and it’s often embarrassing to be punished, though I do think part of the efficacy of a full grown adult being punished is the humiliation factor. So I have tried to talk myself out of it. I have denied that I need it. I’ve asked him not to follow through sometimes.    But he knows me well, and he knows when I need mercy and when I need sternness. So even though he occasionally grants mercy, he also follows through if he knows I need to be held accountable.  That said, it’s been so long that I really haven’t experienced any of this in months and months. I remembered it, and occa...

“Alright,” Jason says. He closes the door and locks it. “Someone needs a spanking.”     I know I do. I  asked  for this. I mean, I damn near begged. But now that it’s time…I’m having second thoughts.    “I’m really tired,” I say, backpedaling. “You really don’t have to.”    He’s got the thick rubber implement in hand. Sturdy, quiet, and super efficient. I feel it for days, every time, which should be a good thing when you’re a spanking addict like me… but it’s also intimidating as hell. I mean, the thing  hurts.    “Get your ass over here.”    He knows I’m trying to get out of it. He knows I need it. I know I need it. But just because I need it doesn’t mean I actually want it.    But I do know that if I don’t do what he tells me to, this spanking’s going to get a lot more serious, very quickly, and he’s already holding the damn implement.    So I throw off the covers and get out of bed and scramble over...

  Over the years, I've been spanked so many times I've lost count. Hundreds. Maybe thousands? But there have been a few that I remember with vivid clarity.  A little trip down memory lane…    1.       The first time Jason  ever  smacked my ass. We were dating, I said something teasingly to him, turned around, and  whack.  He hauled off and gave me a teasing (but pretty hard) spank. And I was  so turned on.  “That really turns me on,” I told him, which only egged him on even more… (until I freaked out and asked him to stop). But ah, that was over twenty years ago and I can still remember where we were, and how I felt when it happened.    2.       The time he gave me my first ever “real” spanking. More than erotic, there was a decided disciplinary feel to it. He was getting dressed for work, and I told him I was struggling with something, not meeting a goal of mine....

I am deeply in need of a really good, really thorough, really hard spanking.   I haven’t done anything wrong deserving of punishment. But the very thought of Jason taking his belt to me, or hauling me over his lap for a spanking that leaves me kicking my legs and begging for mercy has me so emotionally tangled, I’m choked up at the thought.    I really can’t explain why I get this way sometimes. I think it’s occasionally due to stress, since I find spanking –  all  of it, reading about it, fantasizing about it, and even the threat of it – relaxing. But it isn’t that today.   I woke up and do what I always do on a Sunday. Reflected on my week, regrouped with my goals, and planned the week ahead in detail. I’m super Type-A, so I planned everything from how we’d spend our Sunday family day, to my work tasks, to my meal plan, to my daily workout routine.    I saw the little checkmarks next to my daily habit tracker for  check-in.  We haven’t...

It’s been a long time since I’ve had a very serious punishment spanking, though some are burned into my memory perhaps forever. The time I was spanked with the belt for speeding, another impromptu belt spanking for mouthing off, a very deliberate session over Jason’s knee to clear the slate and forgive all small and past misdeeds, and the list goes on.     It’s been over eight years of following rules and submitting to Jason as the head of the house with the authority to discipline. Though throughout the entirety of our (nearly nineteen year) marriage, he’s always been the one that wore the pants around here. I’m strong-willed by nature, and my foray into the depths of studying personality has revealed something we’ve both known all along: I have a dominant personality type. I just need to be with someone a little…more dominant.    But I digress.    A part of me misses the days of accountability in the form of punishment. In the very early days of our dynam...