The need for some discipline

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 dynamic, not a week went by that I wasn’t disciplined in one form or another. I hadn’t established habits to do what he expected or even what I did. I hadn’t learned to curb my temper or keep my mouth shut, learned to train the part of me that snapped at a moment’s notice or couldn’t talk myself down to a more reasonable conversation. I had small children whose needs made it very difficult for me to maintain focus, and I often got distracted and forgot things that mattered. 

 

My children are older now. The majority of my children are fairly independent teens now, and we honestly have a simpler life. Jason and I are self-employed and run a business together. We set our own hours, rules, and time off. In short, the landscape of our days has changed drastically over the eight years, and a strong logical conclusion tells me that the next eight years will be another major change altogether. Eight years from now, nearly all my children will be legal adults. The needs of the submissive of eight years ago are drastically different than my needs today. If there’s anything I’ve learned in this lifestyle, it’s this: the needs of a couple aren’t static, and we need to learn how to adapt. 

 

So there have been times, fairly recently, that I wondered if I still need this. If I still want this. Since I rarely do anything that merits punishment, that’s such a rare part of our lifestyle. (He does remind me from time to time that it’s on the table if necessary). We’ve just learned to live in harmony, how to meet the needs of the other. 

 

This is a challenge for someone like me, whose need to be dominated runs strong, whose spanking fetish is part of the very fabric of my being. 

 

I’ve wrestled with these questions, and we’ve talked about them at length. As I’ve been blogging about, we’re trying hard to learn how to maintain our dynamic despite the lack of privacy and the constant presence of very perceptive teen-agers. 

Then recently I had a bit of a reality check. 

 

I was angry about something. Who knows what. Jason and I both have dominant personalities, and we both have opinions. This is a good thing, as we’ve learned never to bury challenging conversations. We face things head on. Sometimes we argue. Though we never hold grudges, we both do things that annoy or even anger the other from time to time, and we’ve learned how to talk those things through, how to communicate, how to apologize when necessary.

 

But every once in a while we hit an impasse. As his submissive, I defer to him, even when I don’t want to. But for some reason, I couldn’t let this go. I really have not a clue what I was angry about, but it was something fairly minor. I stomped toward the kitchen and began preparing dinner. He followed me down, said something to me, and without censoring myself, I snapped at him. Without warning or preamble, he simply turned to me, reared back, and gave me a good hard spank. Just one swat, though it stung and stopped me short. 

 

I was immediately repentant. My anger fled, and when he came round to me, he said gently, “Watch that tone of voice with me.” And I melted. I put my head on his chest, feeling little and small and chastened, and whispered, “I’m sorry, daddy.” 

 

He rubbed my back and held me, and got that look in his eyes he does sometimes, that’s nothing short of adoration. “I know you are,” he said, and he kissed me. Then we talked over whatever it was we were fighting about. And just like that… problem solved. 

It was a swift but vivid reminder that I still need this. His attention and authority, accountability and leadership. That we’re still doing this, in whatever way we can, however we can.

And a good reminder that it still might be smart to watch my mouth. ;)