Zombie Attack

I have shared before that I work for a great bunch of doctors.  One of our residents is ready to leave the nest in June.  Every year we give a huge party to celebrate their achievement.  We also plan some sort of silly entertainment that is performed and filmed prior to the party.

This year the nurses came up with the idea of a Zombie Clinic full

of zombie doctors, zombie nurses, and zombie patients.  So late one afternoon after clinic hours, we all had to don shredded scrubs and clothes and apply tons of zombie make-up.  Everyone was laughing so hard, it was difficult to look scary for the camera.  It was so much fun, and we will all look forward to our newest doctor viewing it at the party.

When it was finally time to go home, I tried to get off some of the black make-up around my eyes, but I didn't bother with the white base paint.  When I pulled up at home, I tried to do my best Walking Dead lurch coming in the front door.  Sam laughed and helped me carry in all the stuff in my arms.  Soon I was sitting in his lap and enjoying my beer.  Sometimes lap-sitting can lead to other things.  We were cuddling and I started to tease him.  Sam's usual response to teasing is to start with some well-aimed shots on my backside.  When that started to sting, I jumped up and said, "I am a zombie!  You can't spank me."  Then I raced down the hall to the bedroom.

Sam obviously doesn't know that zombies can eat you.  He was right on my trail.  I think he sort of took it as a challenge.  We wrestled on the floor laughing so hard, and soon I was upended and the shredded jeans were off.  Sam also does not know that zombies are white all over, because they are dead.  You can't spank a Zombie!!


And yet this tale ends with the tail end of a zombie turning bright pink.  This proves that zombies do have a circulatory system.  And it also proves that Sam can handle himself during a zombie attack.  I think I need a shower.

There's a First Time for Everything - TTWD Version

Sam has never spanked me on weekday morning.  We both have full time jobs and have to be out the door and to work on time.  Weekends are different.  Many Saturday mornings, he decides on an attitude adjustment just so the weekend goes smoothly with no snarky moods or comments.  Many Sundays, he chooses a happy spanking followed by leisurely sex.  I am pretty much accustomed to these events.  Tuesday morning was way different.  Just out of the shower, 6:30 am, sun just coming up, local news and weather on.  We interrupt this newscast for a special alert, "HOH goes ballistic on wife's ass!  Stay tuned for further developments."

This all started Sunday.  Something happened between us that scared me and I became both hurt and angry.  I wanted to lash out verbally or just cry.  I did neither and just held it all inside.  At this point, too, I knew I was right and he was wrong.  "Eventually he will have to acknowledge that," I thought.  I got quiet and pulled away from Sam.  We had family coming for dinner, and he pulled me close to gently tell me to stop with the "mopey" behavior.  I smiled a little and tried.  I may have fooled everyone else but don't think I fooled Sam at all.  After everyone left, I stayed busy tidying up the kitchen.  Several times Sam asked me if I was OK.  Yes, yes, yes..........What a liar I am.

By Monday morning, I felt even further away from Sam and the

connection I love so much was gone.  I don't know what I was expecting.  Did I really think this was going to help?  Stubborn won out, though.  After all, I was right.


By the time I pulled in from work, there was a contractor laying tile in our sunroom.  Sam and I didn't talk about anything serious, just little daily happenings.  I told Sam I was trying to snap back, but that probably wasn't true either.  The contractor stayed late.  I made myself something to eat and took it to bed with my Kindle.  Sam came to give me a hug and kiss.  He was sweet and patient.  I was sweet, too.  My determination to be right was slipping.  When Sam came to bed, he pulled me in to spoon and rubbed my bottom.  I kissed his other arm and said I hoped things would get better in the morning.  He whispered in my ear, "They will."


So you probably figured out how Sam planned to make things better.  As soon as I was out of the shower, he said, "We have something to take care of."  He doesn't believe in warm-ups, so he just laid into me.  This has to be up there in my top 5 memorable spankings.  A real doozy.  Mr Paddle was not just doing the talking, he was shouting.

Sam also believes in lecturing me all the way through a spanking.  There are little pauses where I am expected to answer him or just agree.  I think the major focus of this lecture was that I had made myself "miserable" along with everyone around - especially him.  This was where the misery was ending.  Except for my bottom - that was really feeling miserable.  When I apologized, he barked, "Don't say I'm sorry.  Say you'll do better."  This spanking went on for so long.  I just couldn't help it; my hands started to move back.  Where the hell was the pillow?  Sam said it was too bad that I did that.  Said up until then, he was almost done.  Instead he added 10 or 12 more.  When it was over, I hurt so bad that I didn't even get up right away.

When I did, Sam hugged me close and told me how much he loved me.  It was a short reunion; I still needed to get ready for work.  Eventually I will still talk to Sam about what happened Sunday, but I think my approach will not be the "I am right. You are wrong" one.

Made it to work in plenty of time.  However, our unexpected AM activity lent a whole new meaning to sitting through another boring staff meeting.

Ella Very Sore

Paying Tribute

 
               Some favorite quotes I found for Memorial Day.


                      "The greatest glory of a freeborn people
                    is to transmit that freedom to their children."

                                                         William Havard


                            "Welcome, not to mourn our dead soldiers,
                                    but to praise them."

                                     Francis A. Walker


                          "On thy grave the rain shall fall 
                          from the eyes of a mighty nation!"

                                                          Thomas William

 
                          "I have long believed that sacrifice is
                                   the pinnacle of patriotism."

                                                                    Bob Riley


             "They hover as a cloud of witnesses above this nation."

                                                        Henry Ward Beecher


                     "A hero is someone who has given his or her life
                         to something bigger than oneself."

                                                             Joseph Campbell

 
               "The patriot's blood is the seed of Freedom's tree."

                                                       Thomas Campbell


                                  "The legacy of heroes is the memory
           of a great name and the inheritance of a great example."

                                                      Benjamin Disraeli


              "The dead soldier's silence sings our national anthem."

                                                         Aaron Kilbourn


                       "And they who for their country die
                              shall fill an honored grave, 
                         for glory lights the soldier's tomb,
                             and beauty weeps the brave."

                                                   Joseph Rodman Drake


                "It doesn't take a hero to order men into battle.
      It takes a hero to be one of those men who goes into battle."

                                                Norman Schwarzkopf



                   "Never was so much owed by so many to so few."

                                                      Winston Churchill

Thank you, Veterans.

Ella and Sam


 

The Scales of Justice

I have been thinking about a subject for a post that centers on one of our rules.  The only thing is, it is not something I have ever seen mentioned on any of the blogs I've read, so I am a bit hesitant.  So was Sam when I first brought it up for discussion!  So here goes.

Controlling my weight has been hard for me my whole life long.  It's up - It's down - It's way up!  I have tried all sorts of diets, books, CDs, doctors, and of course, Weight Watchers.  How much have I lost?  Probably 500 lbs!  One night after falling off yet another diet, I burst into tears.  Sam was quick to comfort me as he always does.  After the tears slowed, I started to talk about an idea I had for being held accountable about my weight.  Sam objected immediately!

"No way!" he said.  "You are just perfect the way you are.  You are beautiful to me."  (I do love when he says that.)  I asked him to hear me out.  We curled up on the couch together.  I reviewed how I struggle with my weight and how my failures make me feel so awful about myself.  Sam was listening but still shaking his head like no - absolutely not.  When I continued, I changed course and started adding up how much of our money I had wasted on Weight Watchers dues and special foods and drinks and books and fat clothes and skinny clothes and who knows what else.

Yes, I finally had his attention.  MONEY BEING WASTED?  "Just how much money?" he asked and his brow furrowed.  So I estimated how much I thought had been wasted over the previous 18 months, because I didn't stick to it.  Any of you who have ever attended Weight Watchers meetings know that if you reach your healthy weight goal, you don't have to pay anymore.  Easy, huh?  Not really.  I had been paying for so long, they should have added on a memorial "Chubby Ella" wing to the building.

So a new rule was born that very night.  Every week after weigh-in, if I had to pay, then I was going to "pay" when I got home, too.  And these spankings were damn serious; we are talking hairbrush applied with gusto.  You can bet I stuck to my sensible foods and portions.  Six weeks was all it took to get back to goal weight.  Every Monday night we went over my food diary/tracker and discussed how I did.  I felt SO proud when Sam would gather me up in his arms and tell me how great I was doing.  And he still does.  He won't let me go any lower for fear his favorite target might get too small.

Before vacations, we set a certain number of pounds I can gain, so that I can treat myself to whatever foods I want.  But there is always accountability.  I have a certain number of weeks to get back to goal or there are consequences.  There are no more M & M binges  No more falling off the wagon just because there is another pot luck at work.  If we are planning to go out, I will actually plan ahead and drop a pound or two prior the the special occasion.  If we are heading to my favorite pub on a weekend, I can still have 2 pints of my special draft IPA.  So yummy! 

There are still times when I slide back into my old ways but not nearly as often.  When that happens it is entered in my journal, and Sam is there to decide if I just need a little encouragement to get back on track or a serious reminder.  Sam does not keep track of what I eat or drink.  I do and I have learned to manage my weight in a much more sensible way.

Never in my whole adult life have I maintained a healthy weight

for a year and a half.  My clothes fit well and I feel wonderful.  More than anything else, I have stopped hating myself.  It is the me I always wanted to be.  When people pay me a compliment about keeping the weight off or being able to turn down a piece of cake, I just smile and tell them I have an excellent diet coach.  I do not mention talking to Mr. Paddle.

The Joy of Spooning

For this little ttwd wife, the joy of spooning rates right up there with the joy of sex.  If you are old enough, you might remember the 1972 book titled The Joy of Sex by Alex Comfort.  It caused quite a stir at the time.  Today, it wouldn't even get a 2nd glance.  There are far more controversial topics on the front of Cosmo every month. 

So when you think about the joy of spooning, it's pretty tame stuff, and it doesn't get the attention it deserves.  It's every bit as versatile as sex.  I maintain that it is more so!  Not better, just versatile.

Let's start with spooning in its most innocent form.  Any of you who had kids must remember tucking an infant in close to you after you fed them, breast or bottle.  You were so hoping that they would go back to sleep, so you could, too.  Even if they made little snuffily noises, you knew they loved how warm and cozy it was.  You may have even been the spooner with a sick or frightened child or a new puppy.  Spooning makes you feel safe and cared for.  Sometimes, with Sam, it can just be a way for him to say he loves me.


Of course, spooning isn't limited to the nighttime.  Just like a little"Afternoon Delight", spooning is nice in the daytime, too.  If you don't need to jump out of bed, it's SO nice to spoon in the morning.  One or both of you may just doze back off to sleep for a while.  I remember once I carefully wiggled into a spooning position with Sam, and he never even woke up.  That is called "Spooning Without Prior Knowledge." 

Finally (and my favorite) comes spooning for consenting adults.  First off, let's talk about designating the roles of spooner and spoonee.  I have tried to be the spooner (especially on cold winter nights), but it does not work quite right.  Sam is bigger than I am, and it just doesn't feel cozy.  Besides, to be perfectly frank, I like spooning when his parts are nestled up against my bottom.  That's how I can predict just what kind of spooning it's going to be.  If it directly comes after sex, then spooning usually means any or all of the following:

1.)  I love you
2.)  That was fantastic! 
3.)  Goodnight OR 
4.)  I'm glad you are my girl.

When we used to have more arguments, spooning could just be a way to forgive each other and not go to sleep mad.  With luck, it could precede make-up sex.  But even without sex, it's WAY better than the two of you sleeping all the way over on your side of the bed.

Thankfully, we don't fight nearly as often now.  A spanking usually precludes any hateful words and works like magic to make me feel submissive and grateful that Sam has taken charge.  There is nothing like spooning after a spanking.  My bottom is stinging and warm.  If Sam has totally forgiven me, he will put his hand gently on my ass and maybe rub a bit.  And so to conclude this treatise on this close cousin of cuddling, let's finish with the absolutely best kind of spooning.  It's when Spooning may lead to Forking!

SOS for my HOH

My Mother's Day started out so happy.  I was outdoors with the sun shining and planting flowers in all the patio pots and beds.  Later we joined family at my favorite pub/restaurant for dinner.  We all  laughed and truly enjoyed each other.  Good time.

Then, as we walked in the door, I spoiled everything with a bitchy complaint about a topic that is always a sore point with Sam and I.  As soon as it was out of my mouth, I knew that what I said was way over the top.  I was really sorry, and expected that Sam would immediately say we were heading to the bedroom to take care of this.

But it turned out much worse, because Sam didn't do that at all.  He reacted like he had never heard of ttwd.  He was angry, and he stopped talking and left the room.  That was the way we used to fight.  I was upset, sorry, and so unsure.  A while later, he came to me in the kitchen, and I was glad, because I thought things would be resolved.  Sam started off by saying that he was HOH and that this is the way things needed to be in our house, but then ended with something that sounded like, if I couldn't do this, then ttwd wasn't working and we might as well forget about it.

I was so devastated that I couldn't even talk.  The tears just came to my eyes, and I changed my clothes and crawled into bed.  I must have cried for over an hour.  I think I cried myself to sleep.  When Sam came to bed, I woke up but just started to cry all over again.  Finally, he pulled me over to him to spoon like we usually go off to sleep.  He asked me to talk to him.  Between sobs, I explained how I understood what he had said.  He kept kissing the top of my head and saying, "Shush," to stop my crying.  He said that he hadn't meant that at all; that I misunderstood.  He held me as we fell asleep and said we would talk more in the morning.

We did talk, and he frankly apologized and said he had mishandled it.  He must have said he was sorry 10 times.  I feel now like we have moved past this.  I understand that we both misunderstood what the other was saying.  That I pretty much overreacted.  When people write about how communication is so crucial to the success of ttwd, I know how its failure can impact the understanding of a situation.

Sam asked me if our connection was back, and I climbed up on his lap.  My favorite place to sit.  All is well.

How Did We Get Here?

Several readers have left comments that lead me to believe that you may think Sam and I are brand new to ttwd/dd.  We are not, but I am new to blogging.  My dear husband and I got our start with domestic discipline in the fall of 2013, so it has been a year and a half since our ttwd story began.  It's time to tell you that story to give you an accurate perspective and to help you understand where we are now.

Spanking has been an obsession with me since I was a really young child.  Don't know why.  Wish I did!  I have no memory of a particular incident that initiated it.  I can remember a whole chapter about spanking in a Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle book.  I wrote stories myself and could tell you when it was ever a part of a TV show.  If other children mentioned spanking, I would listen carefully.  There was even a magazine with a picture that I saved for a very long time.  

This fascination with spanking persisted as I got older, but when I thought about it, there was always a ritual to it.  Also, I began to realize that my feelings were kind of different from the way other people seemed to react to it.  Since I met Sam when we were both only 15, I tried to tease him just to see what he would do.  He would not respond in any way, and soon I just buried the whole thing.  Never spoke about it to anyone.  I think I was almost 30 years old before I realized that my feelings about spanking as an adult might have a sexual component. 

There were times over the years of our marriage when I would try to hint that I wanted Sam to be more dominant, but it was so subtle that he probably thought I was just in a bad mood.  Besides, sex was usually great!  The kids were growing up, and life was too busy.  We never got to talk like we do now.

So jump to 2013.  Our kids have been on their own for years.  After reading a magazine article on erotic spanking, I finally summoned the courage to ask Sam to read it, too.  I thought it would be so earth-shattering.  Instead, he just grinned and started spanking.  No big deal.  He couldn't understand why I had never talked to him about it.  I told him I always believed that it was something I had to hide - that he wouldn't love me if he knew I felt this way.  So for several months he spanked, but it was always a game we played during intimacy.  I was happy, but I knew that there was something missing.  I just didn't feel fulfilled.

After Sam knew this huge secret that I had kept over decades of marriage, I felt free to read about it online.  I spent a lot of time reading articles and stories.  I ordered several books about domestic

discipline.  The more I read, the more I understood what was missing.  I NEEDED SAM TO BE THE HOH!  This was such an "Aha" moment for me.  I devoured anything I could find on dd or ttwd.  My 2 favorite sites were Taken In Hand and Learning Domestic Discipline, and I spent close to a month reading before I was ready to tell Sam.

Finally, I gathered my courage once again and started introducing the idea to him.  It was a long process of reading together, discussing points and asking lots of questions of each other.  We did this for weeks.  Sam was very reluctant at first.  Sex was one thing, but dd seemed like abuse to him.  He finally agreed to give it a try.  I talked at length about the shortcomings/faults that I have never been able to overcome.  Actions that made me feel guilty and unhappy with myself.  From these discussions, we wrote 4 or 5

rules.  Sam liked the idea of a journal, and we agreed that I would write in it daily and reflect on how I had done with the rules each day.  Even though we usually read the journal together once  a week, we talk about any blunders on a daily basis.  A spanking can follow, if Sam decides it is needed.  It seems that I struggle with one or the other of the rules pretty much all the time.  I will be doing great on one of them, and then, BOOM -  another rule becomes my nemesis.  Being respectful is always a requirement.  It's really hard to bend that one at all.

Never read any blogs much until the first of this year.  Before then, I think I stumbled upon several BSDM blogs and thought there just wasn't anyone blogging on the type of relationship Sam and I were building.  And then....(ring a little bell right here) I found an article written by Meredith on the Learning Domestic Discipline website.

I started reading "New Twist..." and then onto others on her blog roll.  Then came Life as a Lurker.  I never commented on any blog, but I read about so many of you.  Thanks.  I felt at home on your blogs.  You said and did things with which I could identify.  And no one was wearing any collars or leashes!

Finally, I wrote an email to Meredith, but I didn't press send for at least 4 hours.  Her kind response was my first connection with anyone online.  I cannot tell you how happy I feel about becoming a part of your family.   

Another Weekend Adjustment

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. 

When the weekend comes, I don't think I feel the structure quite as much.  And yet, there are so many things to get done before Monday morning.  So I become more controlling, because I expect Sam to jump right into my head and understand how much there is to do.  Sam does not like lists, and he especially does not like me to make lists for him!  This is the number one flaw on which I need to work.  When there are too many things, I stress about them.  I get snarky and rush around.  (BTW you all have taught me that word, "snarky" in your posts.)  Sometimes things get slammed on counters, and there is usually some swearing involved.

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.