It is important to read this from top to bottom, THEN read it from the bottom to the top.
!!AMAZING!!
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
The Belt and Sting
If there is one implement that I *fear* it is the belt. I have no basis for this fear. A belt has never been used on me. I have never even slapped one across my own hand. Yet, when I think about different implements, this is the one that brings dread. There is something inside me that sort of worries over it.
Wooden implements are used on me the most. I am accustomed to them. I know what to expect. I have a healthy respect for Daddie Mickey's huge wooden spoon that is so big, the spoon part cups and covers one cheek! The hairbrush in Miss Jenn's hands gets the same respect.. I don't exactly *like* either one. I do know what to expect though. They know they will get my attention and get the message across to me. *If*, there is a message.
If it is a fast sting, *that*, can drop me to my knees in an instant. I think that is some of my fear with the belt. I have turned around and grabbed a tawse out of the hand of a Dominant after just one stroke. I let them know that there would not be a second. Not a great thing for a submissive to do. I just knew that the sting was so intense from that one stroke that I would lose my composure and not be able to continue in the scene. (Some learned to bind me after that, lol!)
Even with a good warm up, there is something about implements that are meant to sting that I have a love/hate relationship with. When the sting floods me, I have been known to also have a flood of bad words fly out of my mouth. Not good for a girl who is not allowed to use curse words, ever. (yeah, I have used a couple of those not so good words throughout this blog but haven't been told I was in trouble for it. Even, hell and damn are not allowed, how lame is that?)
How come, when in the process of being spanked and naughty words come out of the mouth because it HURTS, the Spanker responds by spanking harder and faster? I am not exactly sure how that is suppose to stop the flow of forbidden words. Well, except that it usually does take my breath away and I am not exactly capable of saying anything then, lol. I know that some Dominants and Disciplinarians will stop the spanking and wash your mouth out with soap. I have been made to watch a mouth soaping and been told to be sure to watch my words or I would get the same treatment. I *think* she was kidding, but I am not sure.
Back to the belt.... I know that for some bottoms the whole process of having the belt taken off, folded in half or wrapped around a hand, is very important. It is part of the ritual that they want or need. The sound of the strike is so completely different from a wooden paddle. I understand that. I get it. Some things are just kinda hard-wired in our brains. For me, just the threat of a belt being used makes me think twice...three...four times!
I do pretty well with staying within the boundaries around me. When I was threatened with a belt recently, for whining or acting like a brat, it was MORE than enough to convince me to not whine or be bratty. I think that if a belt or strap were hanging on the wall instead of a paddle, I would be the best behaved girl in Washington.
What implement makes you go weak in the knees (and not in a good way) when you think about it being used on you?
For those of you who do the spanking, what are YOU thinking when you use an implement that you know we just can't stand?
Add comments please... I really am interested in hearing your thoughts.
Wooden implements are used on me the most. I am accustomed to them. I know what to expect. I have a healthy respect for Daddie Mickey's huge wooden spoon that is so big, the spoon part cups and covers one cheek! The hairbrush in Miss Jenn's hands gets the same respect.. I don't exactly *like* either one. I do know what to expect though. They know they will get my attention and get the message across to me. *If*, there is a message.
If it is a fast sting, *that*, can drop me to my knees in an instant. I think that is some of my fear with the belt. I have turned around and grabbed a tawse out of the hand of a Dominant after just one stroke. I let them know that there would not be a second. Not a great thing for a submissive to do. I just knew that the sting was so intense from that one stroke that I would lose my composure and not be able to continue in the scene. (Some learned to bind me after that, lol!)
Even with a good warm up, there is something about implements that are meant to sting that I have a love/hate relationship with. When the sting floods me, I have been known to also have a flood of bad words fly out of my mouth. Not good for a girl who is not allowed to use curse words, ever. (yeah, I have used a couple of those not so good words throughout this blog but haven't been told I was in trouble for it. Even, hell and damn are not allowed, how lame is that?)
How come, when in the process of being spanked and naughty words come out of the mouth because it HURTS, the Spanker responds by spanking harder and faster? I am not exactly sure how that is suppose to stop the flow of forbidden words. Well, except that it usually does take my breath away and I am not exactly capable of saying anything then, lol. I know that some Dominants and Disciplinarians will stop the spanking and wash your mouth out with soap. I have been made to watch a mouth soaping and been told to be sure to watch my words or I would get the same treatment. I *think* she was kidding, but I am not sure.
Back to the belt.... I know that for some bottoms the whole process of having the belt taken off, folded in half or wrapped around a hand, is very important. It is part of the ritual that they want or need. The sound of the strike is so completely different from a wooden paddle. I understand that. I get it. Some things are just kinda hard-wired in our brains. For me, just the threat of a belt being used makes me think twice...three...four times!
I do pretty well with staying within the boundaries around me. When I was threatened with a belt recently, for whining or acting like a brat, it was MORE than enough to convince me to not whine or be bratty. I think that if a belt or strap were hanging on the wall instead of a paddle, I would be the best behaved girl in Washington.
What implement makes you go weak in the knees (and not in a good way) when you think about it being used on you?
For those of you who do the spanking, what are YOU thinking when you use an implement that you know we just can't stand?
Add comments please... I really am interested in hearing your thoughts.
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
Being Triggered
Honestly, I hadn't thought about this incident in a long time. Today it came up and slapped me in the face. Instant tears were running down my cheeks. There was no way to hold them back. All the pain of loss and remembering completely took me over. My partner was with me. We were simply watching a television show together. She saw the same image I did, saw me and knew exactly what had happened to me. The television was shut off and she got in my face, telling me I was okay, that she understood, that she saw the tears and they were ok too. I could not speak. She told me that she knew I had loved this other person. She held me, she helped me up and swatted my backside. Might sound crazy to someone else, but she was breaking through the flashback and bringing me back to her. I am glad that she did. Staying in that pain would not have resulted in a good outcome.
When I started this journey of healing, I was in pretty bad shape. I didn't understand what was happening to me. I couldn't think straight. Fear and anxiety hit the roof and I was not functioning well at all. Friends were finding me literally under the dining room table curled up into a ball and fighting them if they tried to get me out of there. I thought I was going insane. For me, I couldn't think of any other reason that this was happening to me. I would double over in physical pain or curl up on the sofa. When I could speak again, all I could say is that it felt like someone just raped me. Every ounce of me hurt.
See, I have PTSD. My mind protected me while all the abuse was happening. When I was in a safer place emotionally and physically, my entire body decided that it was time to deal with the traumas. Very early on, I met a woman named Ruth. She was at least 10 years older. She also had been dealing with almost identical issues for much longer. Over the next year we became best friends. We both faced suicidal thoughts frequently. That made us make a suicide pact. If we couldn't keep ourselves alive for us, then we would know that if we went through with it, we would also be killing our best friend. If one of us killed ourselves, the other one would follow within 48 hours. It actually became a strong deterrent. I didn't want to be blamed for my best friend's death. I looked up to her at times. She was older, stronger and in the lowest of lows we encouraged one another to keep fighting.
I am not strong enough right now to tell much more about Ruth's story or mine. Ruth did not make it. She committed suicide. My therapist at the time, knew of our pact. When she heard about Ruth's death, she immediately put me in the hospital. If nothing else, I AM a woman of my word. Those who knew me, knew that I would follow through.
The picture on the television today was of a woman sitting on a bed and dumping a bottle of pills in her hand to end her life. It sent my mind and emotions straight back to the moment when I was told that Ruth was dead. She also had taken all the meds that she had.
Being triggered, is not pleasant at all. Feeling the original pain all over again doesn't lessen when it is brought up like that. In that moment, for me, I had just been told that Ruth killed herself. And yes, our pact slapped me in the face. I am alive. I am still fighting. I am still living and breathing and hurting and growing. AND, I miss my friend.
When I started this journey of healing, I was in pretty bad shape. I didn't understand what was happening to me. I couldn't think straight. Fear and anxiety hit the roof and I was not functioning well at all. Friends were finding me literally under the dining room table curled up into a ball and fighting them if they tried to get me out of there. I thought I was going insane. For me, I couldn't think of any other reason that this was happening to me. I would double over in physical pain or curl up on the sofa. When I could speak again, all I could say is that it felt like someone just raped me. Every ounce of me hurt.
See, I have PTSD. My mind protected me while all the abuse was happening. When I was in a safer place emotionally and physically, my entire body decided that it was time to deal with the traumas. Very early on, I met a woman named Ruth. She was at least 10 years older. She also had been dealing with almost identical issues for much longer. Over the next year we became best friends. We both faced suicidal thoughts frequently. That made us make a suicide pact. If we couldn't keep ourselves alive for us, then we would know that if we went through with it, we would also be killing our best friend. If one of us killed ourselves, the other one would follow within 48 hours. It actually became a strong deterrent. I didn't want to be blamed for my best friend's death. I looked up to her at times. She was older, stronger and in the lowest of lows we encouraged one another to keep fighting.
I am not strong enough right now to tell much more about Ruth's story or mine. Ruth did not make it. She committed suicide. My therapist at the time, knew of our pact. When she heard about Ruth's death, she immediately put me in the hospital. If nothing else, I AM a woman of my word. Those who knew me, knew that I would follow through.
The picture on the television today was of a woman sitting on a bed and dumping a bottle of pills in her hand to end her life. It sent my mind and emotions straight back to the moment when I was told that Ruth was dead. She also had taken all the meds that she had.
Being triggered, is not pleasant at all. Feeling the original pain all over again doesn't lessen when it is brought up like that. In that moment, for me, I had just been told that Ruth killed herself. And yes, our pact slapped me in the face. I am alive. I am still fighting. I am still living and breathing and hurting and growing. AND, I miss my friend.
Bits and Pieces
As I am pulled over her lap a groan escapes through my lips. My head already knows what my bottom doesn't....yet. This is not going to be pleasant. I don't know why I did it. I can't even tell her what I was thinking. It is not that I won't tell, which I am sure she is thinking right now, I truly don't know. My entire body tenses as she reaches for the wooden paddle that sits on her bedside table. I try to slow my breathing. I do everything in my power to will my body to relax. Tensing up is only going to make it hurt more. She pulls my pajama bottoms down exposing her intended target. This is not unusual. Rarely does she start anywhere but on bare skin. She wastes no time and brings that paddle down across one cheek. Instantly I am clinging to the bed sheet with both fists. The sting assaults my awareness ferociously . My body goes completely stiff before the second smack of the paddle falls on the other cheek. I am caught in her capable grip. I cannot escape! This is not for fun. This is not a good girl spanking. This is discipline. This is a reminder of what will happen if there is a *next* time.
************************************************
Sooo, we are driving down the freeway. Just chatting and laughing with one another. Out of the blue, she slows the car and pulls off to the side. I ask her if everything is okay. She replied, yes. Then, she waited for a couple of cars to go by and got out of the car. I was so confused. If everything is okay, then why are we pulled off the side of the highway? Why did she get out of the car? She walked around the back of the car and over to my side. Opening the door, she helped me get out of the car. What in the heck was she doing? All of my questions went unanswered. She took my hand and started leading me down a small embankment. I was protesting at this point. She shushed me and kept leading me down into the trees and tall grasses. She stopped, looked around and back up to the road. *This is a good spot*, she said to me. A good spot for what, I asked? She said, *For this!*. Then she proceeded to undo my jeans and pulled them and panties down to my knees! She held onto me as she bent me over slightly and spanked me with her hand over and over! My eyes are darting back up the embankment, seeing the passing cars. If anyone looked, there was no doubt they would see me being spanked. The flush of embarrassment colored my face quickly as she colored my backside totally red. She was actually laughing as she slapped my bottom over and over! I am trying not to yell *Ow*! There is no one around and I am worried about being heard? Seems I would have worried more about being pretty naked from the waist down and being spanked! When she stopped and pulled everything back up where it was suppose to be, the grin on her face was huge. I asked her what in the heck that was all about. She replied to me, that it simply was all about the fact that she can!
*************************************************
************************************************
Sooo, we are driving down the freeway. Just chatting and laughing with one another. Out of the blue, she slows the car and pulls off to the side. I ask her if everything is okay. She replied, yes. Then, she waited for a couple of cars to go by and got out of the car. I was so confused. If everything is okay, then why are we pulled off the side of the highway? Why did she get out of the car? She walked around the back of the car and over to my side. Opening the door, she helped me get out of the car. What in the heck was she doing? All of my questions went unanswered. She took my hand and started leading me down a small embankment. I was protesting at this point. She shushed me and kept leading me down into the trees and tall grasses. She stopped, looked around and back up to the road. *This is a good spot*, she said to me. A good spot for what, I asked? She said, *For this!*. Then she proceeded to undo my jeans and pulled them and panties down to my knees! She held onto me as she bent me over slightly and spanked me with her hand over and over! My eyes are darting back up the embankment, seeing the passing cars. If anyone looked, there was no doubt they would see me being spanked. The flush of embarrassment colored my face quickly as she colored my backside totally red. She was actually laughing as she slapped my bottom over and over! I am trying not to yell *Ow*! There is no one around and I am worried about being heard? Seems I would have worried more about being pretty naked from the waist down and being spanked! When she stopped and pulled everything back up where it was suppose to be, the grin on her face was huge. I asked her what in the heck that was all about. She replied to me, that it simply was all about the fact that she can!
*************************************************
Hey U.G.L.Y.
That's right... Hey UGLY!
Uniquely Gifted Lovable You!
This is not an original of mine. In fact it is an actual anti-bullying organization. It caught my attention for a few different reasons. Right now the best reason, to me, is that it takes a word filled with a lot of negativity and turns the meaning around.
I know it is not that simple. See a cute phrase of an *ugly* word and suddenly the meaning totally changes for you. When I hear the word ugly, I can get transported right back to a place that just is not very good. Heck, I still look in the mirror at times and call myself ugly. Those mean words we use on ourselves and to others can be so hurtful. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. We may have sang that as a kid, but far too often it was not true. Probably most of us can say that we were bullied, picked on, called names, etc. Children of every generation have done it. Bones heal and bruises fade, but the strikes from words that bruise and break the soul, leave wounds others can't see.
The road to healing those wounds to the soul is paved with compassion and love. The salve of praise, truth and positive feed back needs to be applied generously.
We are UGLY - uniquely gifted lovable you(s).
Uniquely Gifted Lovable You!
This is not an original of mine. In fact it is an actual anti-bullying organization. It caught my attention for a few different reasons. Right now the best reason, to me, is that it takes a word filled with a lot of negativity and turns the meaning around.
I know it is not that simple. See a cute phrase of an *ugly* word and suddenly the meaning totally changes for you. When I hear the word ugly, I can get transported right back to a place that just is not very good. Heck, I still look in the mirror at times and call myself ugly. Those mean words we use on ourselves and to others can be so hurtful. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. We may have sang that as a kid, but far too often it was not true. Probably most of us can say that we were bullied, picked on, called names, etc. Children of every generation have done it. Bones heal and bruises fade, but the strikes from words that bruise and break the soul, leave wounds others can't see.
The road to healing those wounds to the soul is paved with compassion and love. The salve of praise, truth and positive feed back needs to be applied generously.
We are UGLY - uniquely gifted lovable you(s).
Sunday, February 28, 2016
Breaking Down
In my personal healing process I have had a couple of emotional break downs. A few days where I no longer wanted to go on. I wanted to just die a couple of times. The emotional pain was so great. It felt like it would never end. Others would tell me to hold on. They told me it would get better. In that emotional vulnerability, I did not believe any of them. In that place, it doesn't feel like anything will ever be okay again.
There is another type of break down. For me, it is crying. The few times that I have faced tears that I could not hold back, I have felt absolute terror. Afraid to have anyone near me and afraid to be alone. When my composure breaks and I do cry, I become very vulnerable to self harm. That coping mechanism kicks in hard. I become angry with myself for not being stronger than the tears. I want what ever is causing the tears to disappear.
I will be facing soon a very intense session. I am very nervous to say the least. Anxiety is rising. I am sure that I will break down. There are already butterflies in my stomach just thinking about it. It is not that I don't trust the people who will be with me. I trust them with my life at this point. I know I am safe and I know I will be protected. I have no doubt that whatever needs to be done, will be done. So, where does all this nervousness come from?
It is about the breaking down. The woman sitting here writing this is physically shaking.
Funny thing about writing... it can trigger some unexpected responses. Writing this blog post, did that to me. I reached out to a friend who spent some time with me. It isn't easy to reach out when you find yourself on the verge of a breaking point. But, that fresh perspective can be so beneficial.
There is another type of break down. For me, it is crying. The few times that I have faced tears that I could not hold back, I have felt absolute terror. Afraid to have anyone near me and afraid to be alone. When my composure breaks and I do cry, I become very vulnerable to self harm. That coping mechanism kicks in hard. I become angry with myself for not being stronger than the tears. I want what ever is causing the tears to disappear.
I will be facing soon a very intense session. I am very nervous to say the least. Anxiety is rising. I am sure that I will break down. There are already butterflies in my stomach just thinking about it. It is not that I don't trust the people who will be with me. I trust them with my life at this point. I know I am safe and I know I will be protected. I have no doubt that whatever needs to be done, will be done. So, where does all this nervousness come from?
It is about the breaking down. The woman sitting here writing this is physically shaking.
Funny thing about writing... it can trigger some unexpected responses. Writing this blog post, did that to me. I reached out to a friend who spent some time with me. It isn't easy to reach out when you find yourself on the verge of a breaking point. But, that fresh perspective can be so beneficial.
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