Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Get A Room!

From reading your blogs regularly, I do think it is accurate to say that many of us who have adopted ttwd, have also found a new, more intense sexual dynamic with our HOHs.  Sam and I surely have.  In fact for anyone reading this, whose partner is still on the fence about ttwd/dd, the sex thing should be definitely weighed as one of the pros.  "Honey, here is another great reason to spank my ass!"

To clarify, though, I think it is more than just spanking.  At first we only added spanking as a game in the bedroom.  Although it spiced things up, it didn't really change the way we viewed the roles in our marriage.  As we started exploring dd, I did enormous amounts of reading and shared a portion of that with Sam.  There were several sources that talked about how modern life has a tendency to make us "gender neutral."  Women take on many traditionally male roles,
and men take on many traditionally female roles.  Of course that isn't necessarily bad, but it leads to lowering the sexual attraction.  (In a recent letter to Ami, I added that my natural bossiness doesn't help either!)  TTWD helps to re-establish these roles.  The sexual dynamic returns; the woman feels more feminine and the man feels more masculine.  Just like everything in ttwd, I'm sure we have tailored some of that to what is best for us.

In her popular book The Surrendered Wife, Laura Doyle says, "Instead of throwing out traditional gender roles, try them on again.  There may be some value in them that you would like to reclaim.  They can help you feel protected and feminine, and therefore more intimate."

In a much lesser known series of long essays/short books, by Vivian of The Disciplined Feminist, she writes about the limbic system of humans that makes some of our feelings/actions instinctual instead of intellectual.  This was meaningful for Sam, and he actually read the entire Book II - Advice from the Receiving End.  I don't know how much of this is true, but the author explains the need for spanking by relating it to the limbic system.  Since I have never understood this need for spanking in myself, at least this author gave me a way to examine it in a different context.  In other words, there's another reason besides:

I am just a.) weird
               b.) strange
               c.) different
               d.) all of the above.

So the sexual dynamic has skyrocketed, and mind you, we were doing just fine before ttwd!  While we have never discussed it with any family member, there are several who are aware that something is up with Sam's and my relationship.  For one thing we don't make much of an effort to keep our hands off of each other.  I figure we are not getting any younger.  If I feel like sitting on Sam's lap, that's where I will be. 

One night Son #1 stopped by after work, and we were both glad to see him.  Eventually this son decided to use the facilities and disappeared for a few minutes.  I jumped into Sam's lap and let him know exactly what was on my mind.  That's the wonderful part of lap-sitting.  It only takes a minute and if you feel something pop up, you know if it's on his mind, too!  I really was just giving Sam a hug, but when Son returned, he just stared at us laughing and said, "Get a room, you guys!  Think I'll be saying goodbye.  You kids have fun."  I jumped up to give him a hug, like a good mom should, but to tell you the truth I wasn't that sad he was leaving.  And, yes, Sam and I did get a room.

Thursday, June 25, 2015

Day on the Range

Even within this lovely group of bloggers, life is not just one spanking after another.  We all have lives outside our blog - families, careers, travel, entertaining, and hobbies.  One interest of mine is shooting out at the range with Sam.  Yes, I suppose we do live in the Wild West part of the country, but we are city dwellers.  For this post, we'll call our city "Dry Gulch."  And there's a new sheriff in town, and his name is Sam.

So when the sheriff and I can plan some time away from work, we jump in my speedy little truck (SLT) and drive to the outskirts of Dry Gulch to a private shooting range.  I love these times with Sam, and we usually plan to spend the whole afternoon together. 

Sam both collects and restores guns.  The restoration is a long,
meticulous process, but the final product is a matter of pride.  He also reloads his own ammunition.  Sam has taken many shooting courses; we have a dear friend who is retired Marine
Corps and a great teacher.  I have only taken one course from Alex, but he designed a whole day for women.  That was a good idea, because I don't really have the upper body strength to safely lift some guns, never mind properly aim them.

Here are the 4 cardinal rules of gun safety that Alex taught me: 

1.  A gun is always loaded.
2.  Know your target and what's behind it.
3.  Keep your finger off the trigger until you are ready to shoot.
4.  Always point the gun in a safe direction !!!!

I always feel like Alex is talking in my ear when I am holding a gun.  

The range to which we belong is very safety -minded, too, and Sam has taught me the etiquette that is part of being responsible.  For example - If the range is "cold" because someone wants to place targets, all guns and ammo are out of your hands and laying on the bench.  It is best to step back from the bench, too.  When the person returns and is behind the bench, they say the range is "hot", and it is safe to pick up a gun and get ready to fire.  Sam continues to help me with my stance and my aim.  I mostly shoot a .22 caliber Browning Buckmark or an old J.C. Higgins .22 semi-automatic carbine rifle (right out of the 1950's Sears & Roebuck Catalog.)

Sam will set out targets for me, and just recently bought me a spinner target which has different sized metal spinners that fly around a metal rod when they are hit.  I really like that gift!  At 12 yards, I am fairly accurate with the Buckmark, which is a pretty little black handgun.  Lightweight, too.  Sam worked me a bit harder last time by putting a green plastic soda bottle out about 35 to 40 yards.  Much more difficult and I was using the rifle, but I was pleased with my progress.  On the last load, I hit the bottle 6 out of 15 times.  Sam told me to make it "dance."

Beautiful day!  We cleaned our area and picked up Sam's brass for reloading bullets.  Once we unloaded the truck at home, we finished our afternoon at our favorite pub.  I thought about how much we enjoyed our time together, talking and laughing.  I guess Sam has always been my HOH out at the range.  He teaches me patiently, but expects me to always listen.  Just like with ttwd, I want to be the best possible me. 

Sunday, June 21, 2015

Good Girl Finally!

For a long time after Sam became my HOH, there were only 2 kinds of spankings.  Of course the most serious ones were to address my breaking a rule.  Being disrespectful or bossy could also land me over the bed.  The other kind of spanking was much more erotic, seeing as it led to wonderful sex.  But for a long time I really yearned for just a happy, playful meeting of the hand to ass.

After almost a year and a half, I finally discovered how to get a good girl spanking!  Very happy Ella!
One night I had planned to do an errand after work.  It was a long, long day, and I was worn out.  I thought about getting the errand done, and I thought about sitting in Sam's lap.  My truck just went on auto pilot and took me straight home.

When I walked in there was a momentary disappointment because we had a friend stop by for a beer.  But then I realized how glad I was to see him and really enjoyed the talk and laughter.  Somewhere along there, Sam asked me to do something.  He said it very nicely, and normally I would have said, "Sure."  But I was feeling silly, so I just smiled and laughed and said, "You're not the boss of me."  Sam smiled and laughed, too.  He pointed his finger at me with The Look on his face, except he was grinning a mile wide.  "Well, we will discuss that later."  Our friend just laughed, too, and we kept talking and having fun.

When our friend left, I started tidying up the kitchen.  Sam closed the front door despite it being a wonderful mild evening.  He turned to me with a big smile and said, "So I am not the boss, huh?"  I started laughing again, but Sam took my arm and started down the hallway.  "No, you can't really mean this."  He was smiling but
determined.  He left me by the bed and reached into his dresser.  I still couldn't stop laughing.

"Over the bed.  You know the drill."  I did unbutton my pants but just stood there.  My goofiness just wouldn't let up, and I still didn't believe he was really going to spank me.  When he pulled my panties down and pushed me down on the bed, I was laughing so hard that it was coming out in a snort once in a while.  Not very feminine, but I was out of control.

Paddle says, "It's Fun."  It is Not!
When the paddle started, it only took a few swats before I punctuated the hilarity with very real protests and pleading.  Sam was trying to be all stern and Hoh-ey, but he was cracking up, too.  "So, let's talk about who is the boss."  After the paddle really got going, I started to give in.  

I told him, "You are! You are!  So sorry!  Yessir!  You are the boss!"  When a laugh would sneak out, the strokes came harder. Yikes!

When it was finally over, Sam helped me stand and hugged me so close.  We were both still laughing and he was holding my bottom.  Yes, he is the boss of me, and it is truly freaking wonderful!

Happy Ella Loves Her Boss Man

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

What a Difference a Day Makes

Leaving for work on time.  Driving the speed limit.  Being courteous to other drivers.  Staying cheerful and wearing a smile.  Waiting patiently behind slower vehicles.  On Wednesday morning, I could have won a driving award.

But let's go back just 24 hours.  The story starts on Tuesday morning, and it is not a funny story.  That day I got started reading all of your blogs while drinking coffee.  Then wrote a few comments, too.  Finally got working on one of my own posts, working on getting the images just right and then being sure the text wrapped correctly.  Looked up at the clock.  OMG!  Should have been in the shower ages ago!  So, of course, I
was just as late getting out the door to leave for work.  Kissed Sam (no lingering kisses that morning) and flew out the door.

Now, the Number 1 Rule at Sam and Ella's house is about Ella's driving.  All the contingencies of safe driving are spelled out right at the front of my journal.  It is something Sam asks me about every day.  It's not like I could forget.  My driving faults are numerous.  I am not proud of them and work hard to improve.  The only thing I can honestly tell you I never do is text.  Pin a freaking rose on me.

So left for work late and, of course, that means traffic is heavier.  Then really started to push my usual 5-7 mph over the limit.  Had no patience with slower drivers.  Pass 'em by!  Still thought I was maybe sneaking by on following my rules.  All my strategies for staying calm and in control while driving went right out the truck window.  It all came to a head with waiting to make a left behind a line of cars at a very short green arrow.  Someone up front in the line must have been taking a nap or texting or who knows what.  Only three cars made it, and I just blew up.  Laying on the horn, yelling and swearing to
myself.  I knew I shouldn't do this.  "Crap," I thought, "now I have to tell Sam about this."  Did this stop me?  Nope.  As soon as we got the next arrow, I was off like a shot.  And not a quarter mile later, some idiot pulled out in front of me and several others,  We all slammed  on the brakes, but I was the only one who started with the horn.

I slowed way down and started thinking instead of reacting.  In the space of 4 - 5 minutes, I had broken almost every rule we have about driving.  I was so disappointed in myself.  When I sat down to my computer at work, I decided to write Sam first thing.  It wouldn't fix my blunders, but maybe it would help me concentrate on my work day.  He didn't respond to my email, and I wondered if that was good or bad.  Either way, I berated myself most of the day.  When I finally heard from him, it was late afternoon, and his email just said, "You had better do better on the way home."  There were no sweet words at the end.

When I got in the door, there was a hug but nothing tender or sexy. 
Sam asked me to get my journal since it was a Tuesday night.  I read to him, and he grunted once or twice.  What stood out to me was that I had done so well the week before.  And that's the way it usually goes.  I do great and wonderful and stupendous until I just take it for granted that I have this fault licked.  Then, Boom!  There's an outstanding failure.  He also had me read the entire set of rules pertaining to driving.  There was no wiggle room.

He quietly told me to go to the bedroom, take off all my clothes, and wait for him in the corner.  My mouth fell open, and I wanted to ask, "Why?" so badly.  Sam will never make love to me after a punishment spanking.  Never.  So I couldn't understand about the clothes coming off.  But I closed my mouth.  I was determined to be submissive; I really knew I had this one coming.  It made me feel very humble and vulnerable with no clothes.  I waited quite a while, and that kept me worried.  I do not like the corner thing, but it does make me think about how I screwed up.  When Sam finally came in, he told me to get over the bed.  I quickly grabbed a pillow, too.  I heard him reach in his dresser, and then he laid 2 implements on the bed.  I just cringed.  It was the thin wooden spatula and the clothes brush.  Both of these hurt way more than the paddles.

He started with the spatula and within 4 strokes I couldn't even get my breath.  He didn't have to ask me what I did wrong; I started spilling my guts about each and every lousy choice I made.  He was covering my whole bottom thoroughly, and I was making quite a lot of noise.  When he aimed for that sit spot, I came straight up off the bed.  Sam just leaned in with his forearm on the small of my back, and I was pinned.

The first implement was so bad that by the time he went on to the
clothes brush, I think my bottom was getting a bit numb.  I do not understand why that spatula thing is so evil; it doesn't look that ominous.  The clothes brush should have hurt more, but it didn't.  He was still lecturing, but I can only give you a recap.  This spanking hurt too much to recall the exact verbiage.  I can assume it had to do with maintaining my patience and controlling my temper.  That is what stuck in my head, and I would assume that is what Sam was aiming for (no pun intended).  There were hugs and a reconnection, but Sam remained just the disciplinarian, not my lover.

I was very sore and tender on Tuesday night, although he did rub my bottom when he came to bed.  On Wednesday morning, I was still feeling Sam's lessons on my backside when I climbed in my little truck.  And so we have come full circle , and you are right back at the first words in this post.  But the finish to my Wednesday story would have a much better ending than my Tuesday story.  Happily Ella Ever After.

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

The Great Lowe's Spanking

Recently, Sam and I had to return some floor tile to Lowe's, and I was reminded of The Great Lowe's Spanking of 2014 while we waited in the line for Customer Service.  (BTW, I have a brother-in-law who calls it "Slowe's" instead.)

If someone asks me about the spanking I remember the most, it has to be the Lowe's spanking, hands down.  Last fall we were choosing materials for a bathroom remodel.  We had our old, dependable contractor lined up, and it was time to shop for all the pieces needed.  As Sam and I talked about our preferences, we formed a plan.  There were a few things we ordered online, because we knew we weren't going to find them in stores.  The big one was a shower head without a water restrictor.  I finally located one that was manufactured in Germany, and that made Sam very happy.  There were several places here in town that I went to for oddball items, but we mostly planned on ordering from Lowe's.

Sam does not like to shop or to be perfectly honest, Sam does not like to shop with me.  That's usually OK with me, because I do not like him with me if I am shopping for clothes and such.  I think it is the saddest thing to see a man following his woman around some store holding her purse.  I always think, "You poor slob."  BUT we usually shop together for big purchases - like a car or something quite expensive.  In that category, I would put spending thousands of dollars for home remodeling. 

After I had done all the choosing and color selection on my own with the help of a very patient man at Lowe's, I really did want Sam to come to the store with me for the final ordering.  He said that he didn't want to go on a weeknight and that we would go on the following Saturday.  I complained and made a fuss, because I thought we ought to get the order in ASAP.  He ignored me.  I was NOT happy at all and developed a "Never mind.  I will do this by myself!" ATTITUDE.  I went back the next afternoon after work and completed the ordering with all the measurements from the contractor.  I watched the nice Lowe's man punch over $5000 worth of materials into the computer and press the Order button.  I took all the paperwork with me and headed home.

The more I thought about it, the more irritated I was at Sam.  I was hot and tired, too  By the time I walked in the door, I had an major attitude and was only speaking in one word answers.  This is never good, but Sam stayed calm. I put away my work things and changed clothes (some banging of items here).  Sometime later Sam picked up the 4 or 5 page order and was looking it over.  He stopped when he got to the page with the dimensions for the custom shower pan and said there was an error.   >>>>>I just saw RED<<<<<.  There couldn't be an error,
because the order already went in!  Sam patiently explained that the drain hole wasn't positioned exactly right, because the drain hole in our subfloor wasn't exactly in the center.  I was so angry that I could hardly speak.  I tried to say without yelling, that all this would not have happened if he had come with me.  Even though the mistake was made by the contractor or the Lowe's guy, in my mind, it was ALL Sam's fault.  He did ask if I wanted him to go back to the store with me to sort this out, but by that time, I was way past being rational.  I grabbed my purse and the paperwork and gritted my teeth so I didn't scream.  The dragon was out of her lair.

It was still hot, and I was so angry that I swore and talked to myself all the way back to Lowe's.  After a long wait, we finally reached my salesman who had already gone home for the day.  He said that even though the order went into the Lowe's computer that afternoon, the custom shower pan and vanity top would not be sent on to the manufacturer for at least 24 hours.  All was well, and I surely wish that I had regained my composure right then.  I did not.  I drove home in the same angry state and stormed into the house.  I didn't say a thing.  I headed to my closet, and Sam followed.  He asked what had happened.  I said through gritted teeth that, "I took care of it.  Don't worry and leave me alone."  He turned to leave the room, and I slammed the door so hard that it is lucky I didn't break the mirror on the back of the door.

He was back through that door in less than a second.  "That's it.  Bedroom right now!"  He usually does not spank when he is angry, but this was the exception.  He grabbed my hand and pulled me after him.  Then out came the paddle.  "Get your pants down!"  At this point I was so mad that I just said, "No!  This is not my fault.  This is your fault. Blah, blah, blah.  If you had come...".  He was in control now, and he just stood and waited.  Finally, I realized that 

he wasn't mad anymore, there was just the Look.  His eyes were narrowed and one hand was on his hip.  I started to cry but did as he said.  He bent me over the side of the bed, and it began.

Sam chose a different paddle that night.  I knew that as soon as the first one landed.  As he spanked, he talked about my being pig-headed and stubborn.  How waiting until Saturday would have avoided all this drama.  How I was not being respectful to him.  How I better NEVER slam another door!  The spanking was the worst I have ever had.  My bottom was on fire.  I cried first because I was still angry, but eventually I knew that I had been horrible to him.  Then I really cried and finally understood that this spanking was exactly what was needed to bring me back from so much anger.  When I could say I was sorry, the spanking finally slowed.

When it was over, I just kept apologizing.  He just kept holding me.  Before we started dd, this fight could have gone on for weeks or maybe months.  I would have held a huge grudge and the dreaded silent treatment would have poisoned our relationship.  Sam would have returned the silence and would have distanced himself as well.  This kind of fight hasn't happened that often in our

lives, but when one did occur, there never seemed like there was a way to repair the hurt.  Spankings are like pressing a "Reset" button for me.  I calm down and I listen.  I can honestly look at how my actions/words just escalated a situation.  I can honestly admit I was wrong. 

My favorite place in the whole world is sitting on Sam's lap.  That night, even though I was very sore, I stayed on his lap for a long, long time.  I felt so incredibly close to him and so incredibly in love with him.  This man cared enough about me to see through my anger and take steps to bring me back to him.  After sitting there for close to an hour, he even made me smile.  Since then I have never slammed a door even a little bit.  And whenever I hear the Lowe's slogan: "Never Stop Improving", I smile and think of This Thing We Do.

Sunday, June 7, 2015

This Thing Called Work (ttcw) and MeMe Request

Lately, I have been quite excited about writing new posts for my blog and reading as many of yours as possible.  I am learning that finding the extra hours can be challenging.  I still work full time, and I am not a person who can get along on less than 8 hours of sleep.  Of course, I also treasure my time with Sam.  Chores, family events, time in my garden, and now Outlander (I am officially hooked) are all vying for the precious little free time in my life.  Last week, I was joking with Sam that "this thing called work" was interfering with "this thing we do."  He was not really sympathetic.  

Before I leave for work, I may print off several posts from all of you.  I have been using spare minutes and hastily written Post-It notes to get down ideas or respond to some of you.  When I need to use the shuttle bus around the huge complex where I work, I can sometimes get part of a post scribbled out before I reach my destination.  There are down times of 10 minutes that occur on certain days.  That's been time enough to jot down a comment or ideas for a future post.

The biggest chunk of time I have is very early morning.  I am definitely a morning person and Sam is not.  It's dark and quiet and it feels good to be alone at that time of day.  Brewing a pot of coffee and feeding the dogs come first.  After that I am on the computer, getting to know all of you.  I do have lovely vanilla friends, but there is something special about writing the posts or sending letters to a few of you that makes me so happy.  I think it is feeling that I am part of a community of women like me.

For so many years I never admitted I was different, not even to Sam.  Even when we started dd/ttwd, there was just the 2 of us.  Now, my writing and yours, too, brings satisfaction, strength, and humor to my life.


Would really appreciate someone sending me a good Me-Me.  During my Lurker days, I loved reading them.  "Oh, she sounds so nice" or "OMG, she's funny."  When I google them online, they are just so lame.  Even if you can only direct me to some good ones, that would be such a help.

Ella Ever After

Thursday, June 4, 2015

Sam I Am

When I reviewed the writing that I have posted so far, I noted that my portrayal of Sam is mostly in his role as my HOH.  I don't see much depth of character, and I decided to address this.  After all, we have lived just a short time of our marriage in a dd relationship.  That's not why we fell in love or the reason we have stayed married for decades.

Let's start with referring to him as HOH.  That's supposed to mean "Head of Household" right?  Not to Sam.  He hates the word "household."  He says it sounds like someone is taking a census.  "Head of our Home" is OK according to him.  I am still using HOH in my posts simply for ease of understanding. 

I met him the first day of our sophomore year in high school.  First period, geometry.  He was so handsome.  I loved his shoulders and arms and his smile.  Later, he told me it was my boobs.  He is still a boob man.

Sam Stuff

  • Sweet and kind and funny.  No one can make me laugh as hard as he can.
  • English major for his first degree and still reads profusely.
  • Very comfortable and skilled with technology.  Helps me!
  • Works hard and has always provided for his family.
  • Very patriotic and loves history - especially World War II and Winston Churchill
  • Wanted to have kids right away.  Good dad.
  • Loves his dogs!
  • Wood worker - has made beautiful furniture for our home - (also paddles)
  • My handyman - great at fixing things (including Ella)
  • Great lover and best friend.  Always makes me feel special.
  • Likes working out in his garage.
  • Restores and collects guns.  Really likes going out to the range. Me, too!
  • Excellent at grilled foods and smoked meats.  Best damn ribs ever.
  • True blue and very loyal. 
And Sam gave me the biggest gift ever when he became my HOH (or hooh).  He is strong and loving and wields a mean paddle.