Back in my place

And then, I had a meltdown. 

Last week, I did a short blog about how we’re sort of struggling through the craziness of this quarantine. I said, “I’m dying inside a little.” 

Jason knew I missed how we relate to each other. But I think we both got so invested in “survival mode” that we didn’t realize how far gone I was. It’s so difficult to hold everything together when the one person who helps me through it all is checked out. 

I can do it. I’ve done it before. But it’s painful. 

I finally went to him, told him how I felt, and promptly burst into tears. I told him everything. “I’m trying so hard to be positive. But it’s killing me, not having what we had. Not calling you daddy, or kneeling, or being put into a submissive mindset like we used to.” 

He just held me while I cried and said, “I know. We’ll make this happen.” 

“I just haven’t been thinking about it. It’s the only way I can get through,” I told him. 

“I know,” he said. “And at first I was so distracted with all of this, but I’m back now.” 

I got ready for bed and later, he joined me. “This is how it’s going to go,” he said. “We’re going to check in. No excuses from you. No worrying about the neighbors hearing, or the kids walking in, how loud we are, or telling me you’re too busy.” 

Oof. I’ve been so distracted and doing my own thing, and resisting every time he wanted to check in. So afraid people will overhear. He keeps telling me they won’t, but I’m afraid of it. 

He held me that night. Flipped me over and gave my ass a good crack. 

The next day, I was working in my shed, and he came in to me. I knew why. He asked me to put my computer down, and said it was time to do what we needed to. 

He went over my rules. I felt out of practice. Rusty. I mentally resisted. All the reasons why I didn’t want to do this crept in, but I had asked for this. And I knew I needed this.

I repeated my rules like he asked. Then he slipped off his belt, folded it over, and pointed to my ottoman. “Over it.” 

Let me tell you how badly I did not want to do that. But I obeyed. I mean, talk about taking your medicine. 

He strapped me pretty good and hard. I asked him to be merciful since I’ve been so out of it, and he was…but there’s also really no such thing as a belt spanking that’s merciful. 

He hugged me when we were done. And I felt like a new woman. My chest didn’t have that heavy weight on it like before. I felt smaller and submissive, a feeling so foreign I’d almost forgotten what it was like. And I was so very grateful. 

He’s done some form of check in every day since. I just get myself ready to submit when he has time. I have to push aside my fears or need to control this… and isn’t that a good reminder for me anyway? That I don’t control this. That he’s the one who’s my dominant, so he’s the one who orchestrates how this goes. 

I’m back in my submissive place, and I couldn’t be happier.