can you say owie?

After two rounds with Ma’am’s belt yesterday, ass so sore and hot that I could feel the heat radiating through my jeans, I found myself wanting a pleasure spanking. I didn’t come out and ask because I’m not generally permitted any type of pleasure on punishment days but I did mention to Ma’am that her girl appeared to be in a somewhat twisted frame of mind because she was wishing she could have one. Ma’am was surprised to hear it but happy to accommodate – which should have been a tip off that this was about to become one of those “be careful what you ask for” moments.

I had forgotten that these days Ma’am’s idea of a pleasure spanking is very different from my own – her pleasure includes hard and heavy blows interspersed with hard pinching and pressing on the sore areas. There will certainly be tears as she finds that special spot she loves again and again and again…and again.

And sometimes she bites. Hard.

My definition, on the other hand, is not quite so intense - a little lazier approach, softer blows mixed in with the heavy, more caress than pinch. Just a lovely little spanking. No tears and no biting.

Well…maybe a little biting. ;)

Erm, anyway…the spanking. I probably should have figured out before opening my mouth that no spanking is likely to be pleasurable when your ass is still feeling the fire of punishment…can you say “owie?” I mean OWWWWWIEEEEE!

What on Earth was I thinking?

drinks with dominants

Shortly after a beating, Ma’am and I headed out to spend Friday evening with a good friend of mine - a dominant that I respect and admire. We see each other rarely because of our respective geography and I’ve been looking forward to his visit for weeks. Ma’am has been looking forward to the evening as well – she’s heard a lot about J from me and was happy to be finally meeting him herself.

I hadn’t been surprised when Ma’am revealed her intentions to give me a sore bottom before leaving as she’d done the same last November (must be a dominant thing?). I was happy to hear of her plans for a variety of reasons, one of them being that I knew the beating would help to center me and quiet my mind and I welcomed the idea of being freed to focus on only who and what was in front of me. Little did I know at that point that a quiet and centered mind wasn’t really an option - Ma’am had decided to put me in service for the evening.

The calm and peace that my beating had instilled was quickly replaced by layers of nerves – it is daunting enough to face the experience of your Ma’am and a dominant that you have great respect and high esteem for meeting for the first time but when you add in the shyness that makes me feel socially lacking and the fact that I was in service in entirely uncharted territory…well, I’m sure you can imagine the inner turmoil it created. I had a lot to contend with, a lot more to focus on than just a pleasant evening out.

As you may have already suspected, the multiply split focus didn't exactly bode well for me. I failed miserably in both my protocol and service requirements. And I do mean miserably – I actually forgot I was in service on more than one occasion as I became absorbed in the conversation. I don’t think I did much better socially – there were several moments where I fell quiet and failed to contribute to the collective conversation. Some of these happened as I realized I’d just failed to follow protocol or had said/done something not befitting a submissive in service (like interrupting my Ma’am) while others were a direct result of my feeling awkward about having just said something I thought made me sound like a moron or noticing that I wasn’t pulling my weight conversationally. I ended up in a loop – one moment focusing too much on my service requirements and falling short in the social and the next focusing too much on the social and falling short in service.

My failures and inability to strike a balance between service and social etiquette aside, I did have a wonderful evening. J was charming, witty, and interesting (as always) and he and my Ma’am seemed to have hit it off. The hours flew by in the blink of an eye – which is the best indicator of time spent in good company and good conversation.

not a black friday

On Friday morning, I joined the throng of Black Friday shoppers and a longtime quest was fulfilled: the dress that I have seen in my mind’s eye since I purchased the gauzy white apron with small floral appliqués on the pockets. There it was as if waiting for me – a single dress put back on the wrong rack, dissimilar to it’s drab compatriots - a vibrant red floral with a full skirt in a deliciously soft and flowing fabric. The style was just what I’d been looking for and, miraculously, the dress was my size.

And when I tried it on? Perfection. This was a dress made for the 1950’s era housewife kink that Ma’am and I share and it was flattering to my figure to boot. The apron, a red cardigan and my red patent heels would bring the outfit together quite nicely. Although I was excited by my find, there was still one thing I needed to know before I could call my quest complete. I bent over in front of the long mirrors, carefully draped the skirt over my lower back and appraised the view from behind with a smile…oh, yes, my Ma’am would definitely like this view. I was absolutely buying this dress. The ridiculously low price was a bonus – I’d have paid many times over the ticketed price to have it.

The excitement of my find was tempered only slightly by the fact that Ma’am wasn’t home when I returned with it. But knowing that she would return soon, I put it on to show her. Her eyes lit up when she saw me in it and I could see that she loved the dress every bit as much as I’d hoped she would…especially when I pulled up the skirt and assumed a display position on our ottoman to show her my Friday panties.

That afternoon, Ma’am and I were able to spend some much needed time together. She gave me the beating that I’ve desperately needed these past couple of weeks. Somehow she knew exactly what I needed from her…from the beating itself to her answer to my plaintive plea for more when I mistakenly thought she was done and the manner in which she expressed her pleasure afterward. It’s been a long time since I’ve truly believed that she takes pleasure in my being a good girl for her. But her eyes can’t lie and it was there for me to read. Even more than the beating itself, that simple truth was what I needed to know right now. It left me more relaxed and clear-headed than I’ve felt in weeks and instilled a sense of hope that I haven’t felt in months.

I need...

I need to vent... A month in crisis mode is taking it's toll on me. My patience is extremely low and I'm much too easily frustrated today. It's been a rough day and the equalizing peace I normally take from performing my Monday rituals and tasks is nowhere to be found. The submissiveness inherent to those things is at odds with the dominance of my role at the moment and I'm unsettled by the feelings brought up by both.

I need a break. I need the constant push and pull to ease up a bit and let me breathe. I need someone to remind me that everything is going to turn out all right in the not too distant future. I don't want to have to deal with everything that needs to be dealt with, don't want to be the strong one every moment of every day. I need life to get back to something resembling normal...but normal is a very long way off since everything turned upside down a few weeks ago.

But the thing that I really need, the thing that would stabilize the current tilt of my world, is to be beaten. I need the reassurance and the reminder of place, the escape and catharsis of it...the release. I need to be pushed up to the brink of my limits and held there. And then, when I've taken more than I ever dreamed I could, I need to be kissed...and with my gaze imprisoned to ensure I can't doubt the truth of the statement, I need to be told that I'm a good girl.

crime and punishment

Well, it's happened - I've finally earned and weathered my first punishment with Ma’am’s belt. It was my first punishment in 7 months...and nowhere near as terrible as I’d feared it would be. Ma’am didn’t whip me as hard as she could have (which she informed me of afterward) and I could never actually enjoy anything meted out as punishment...BUT I have to admit that under different circumstances I might actually enjoy being whipped with a belt...

It’s possible that I may have already earned myself additional treatment with Ma'am's belt but I’m not quite sure. Ma'am gave me a task last Wednesday with a one week timeline for completion. I rebelled against it immediately and asked Ma'am what would happen if I did not complete the task. Ma’am promised me that I would be punished if I did not do as she'd instructed.

Today marked the passing of the week - task incomplete. It’s a little uncertain whether actual disobedience is the culprit due to extenuating circumstances - approximately 36 hours after I’d been given the task, castrophe struck our personal lives and it has consumed us since. At the time I was given the task I had no intention of completing it but I have no idea if I would have succumbed to obedience or rebellion in the end. When I returned home from work this afternoon, I dutifully reported my failure to comply to Ma’am and admitted to her that I didn’t know if I would have completed the task regardless of recent events. Judgement is pending...