Well, the blog baby is one week old. I spent a lot of time visiting other blogs this week and getting to know a few more of you. I am not usually shy, but have been a lurker for quite a while now. It is fascinating to me to discover so many different versions of ttwd. It reminds me of a class I once took in how language evolves. Since we are all little islands of ttwd, we all take off in different directions and change ttwd/dd to match our personalities and needs. Several posts I read this week expounded on the foolishness of comparing our relationship with others online and feeling we are lacking somehow. Chelsea's article was just one of them that I found interesting.
Today, I wanted to write about the problems I have with attitude that seem to creep up when I get to the weekend. During the week, I work full time and my day is busy and structured. I know exactly what I need to be doing at what time of the day. People I know as friends and colleagues would say I am efficient and organized. I like to make lists of things to do at home, at work, for a vacation, for a party, for Christmas presents, for cleaning, for errands, and myriads of other things. Now, I even have one for the things I want to add to my blog. There is lots to learn, but I want to build it to be "just so." It is satisfying for me to cross those tasks off and blast through a list.
Before ttwd, Sam and I would fight about this quite a bit. This list in my head and the way I spoke to him. It created distance between us and could spoil our time together. Now he will tell me that it is time for a weekend adjustment. That means we will head to the bedroom and he will say, "Pants down. You know what to do." That means to get over the bed and find a place for my hands. He will choose an implement from his dresser and put his hand on the small of my back. His favorite implement is a paddle he made out in his workshop in the garage. It is not thick and fairly small. It rarely leaves a bruise, but it is deadly stingy.
Sam likes to talk during a spanking, and he expects me to answer his questions and affirm his expectations of my behavior. This is very hard, because by the 5th stroke, I usually can't think very well. I do hear him, since I can remember later. He talks about keeping a positive attitude and enjoying our time together. There is usually something in there about my temper and being patient, too. For the most part, I am very good about saying, "Yessir." He sometimes catches me with a question I don't know how to answer. If there is no response from me, the paddle gets a lot harder and a lot faster.
One Saturday morning, I had already stripped the sheets off the bed. When Sam decided on a weekend adjustment, there was no pillow to hold onto. My hand started to reach back, and Sam warned me that he better not see that hand. I just grabbed one of the footboard spindles of our antique bed. It worked. Later I thought about how old that bed is and that maybe some other wayward wife had held that same spindle.
Sam took me to sit in his lap and held me for as long as I wanted. It was lovely. I always feel so close and connected to him after a spanking. If there was a door on his chest, I would open it and climb right in. I just can't hug him close enough. So I am sitting here right now with a sore ass, but I am as calm and happy as a wife can be. And it feels like its going to be a wonderful weekend.