Punishment's End

And...we're on the other side.

Humiliation continued all weekend. It culminated with me getting sword spanked with that there sword in the picture, paddled by a few objects from his tool kit I don't even know the names of
(one was a heavy metal thing, shaped liked an L?)
And told to fuck myself on a beer bottle*.
 I may add more details about the whole experience later, after I've processed it more.

But I will impart a few things I learned:

• I like humiliation more than I thought. Or maybe I've just been forced into liking it. I don't know. It's hard for a sub like me to tell the difference.
• I will never, ever, outthink Husband. (I kind of already knew that, but discovered there's a whole other nuance to that rule regarding humiliation tactics.)
• No matter how much patience I have (and under the right circumstances, I can have a lot of it), Husband will always have more than me. 
• "Patience" can also be thought of as "laying in wait." Also, "ambushing."
• Fucking a beer bottle can be very, very fun. (I kind of already knew that, too, but it's been a while.)

*picture of that is on Fetlife

Continued

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Penitence Pie

This is a picture of the pie I made for Husband while he was at work. A peace offering, I guess you could call it. Or the beginning of my penance.

I named it Penitence Pie.

I emailed him pictures of it, both before and after it went into the oven. Under the second picture I wrote, it smells yummy.

Finally, he wrote me back. He wrote: IT IS MINE.
I took his message as a good sign. At least he was talking to me.

When he got home, he kissed me on the nose. I didn't know what to make of that. It was obvious he was still mad at me; it was equally obvious he was going to keep me nervous of what was to come.

He went into the kitchen and admired the pie. "It looks delicious," he said.
I smiled, lulled into complacency. "You should taste it," I said.
He smiled back, and his was a dreadful, malicious grin.
"You have first bite," he said. "After all, you baked it."
"No no," I answered. "I made it for you."
"I insist." His voice was cold. "Sit down. Have a slice."
I cut a slice, laid it down on a plate, and took it to the table. He watched as I cut into the slice with my fork and brought it to my lips.
"Did I tell you you could eat yet?" He asked.

I dropped the fork down on my plate. "No. No Sir."
"Put the fork back to your mouth. But don't eat it yet. Just...wait."

I held the fork with the bite of pie to my lips, careful not to press it to my mouth. I waited.
I waited a long time.
All the while, he watched me. Studied me, like an art lover admiring a particularly interesting piece at the Louvre.
Neither of us moved.

He said, "Go ahead. Take your bite."
Slowly, I pushed the fork into my mouth and slid it back out, letting the bite of pie sit on my tongue. I had to swallow it almost whole; my jaws would not chew. The pie sat in my throat, a lump in my esophagus.
"How does it taste?" He asked me softly.
"It's good," I said. My voice shook.
He paused. "There's some still on your fork," he said. "Lick it clean."

I lay the fork against my tongue and slid it out of mouth slowly, letting my lips go soft against the pull of the fork.
"You're not done," he said. "Make sure it's clean--all the way down."

I started deep-throating the fork, jabbing it against the back of my throat, feeling the metal stab my tonsils as I pumped it back and forth across my tongue. Husband leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching my every move. His face never altered from its detached, almost bored, expression.

"That's good enough," he said. He stood up, away from the counter, and began to go upstairs.
"Don't you want a slice?" I called after him.
"No," he said without turning around. "I'm in no mood for pie."

There are many ways to punish a sub. I may have to wait for the pain, but my humiliation has just begun.

That Wheezing Sound You Hear? It's ME, HYPERVENTILATING

Remember a couple posts ago, how I mentioned Husband and I have rules about the bathroom? Specifically, me not taking over it? Well, one of the ways I tend to spread my territorial claim is by unplugging Husband's shaver. See, we only have one outlet in our bathroom, and I can't plug in my hairdryer if his shaver is plugged in. The two won't fit side by side. So I unplug his stuff to plug in mine. 

And then I forget to plug his shaver back in.

His shaver is the kind that has to charge to work. You can't just leave it plugged in as you're shaving. It's like an electric toothbrush.

Husband has reminded me OVER AND OVER AGAIN to plug his shaver back in after I'm done drying my hair. It was one of things he punished me for last week!

The thing was, I knew last week the punishment felt too light. I mean, yeah, it hurt as it was happening, and I was not happy about it...but once it was over and done, I was like, that was it? Mmm, that wasn't so bad.
And then Husband asked me straight out Did you learn your lesson? And I gave him a snippy answer. Ladies and gentleman, in this house, if I can still get snippy after a punishment, the punishment was not good enough.
Things you learn about yourself through the years.

So guess what happened this morning? I'll give you three guesses.
Husband woke up, got dressed for a meeting, went into the bathroom to shave, and...couldn't. No power.
I FORGOT TO PLUG IT BACK IN. AGAIN.

He's so pissed at me now. So pissed. He brought me upstairs without even talking to me, pointed to the shaver, gave that look, and walked away.
I offered to run to the store and buy him another shaver right then. I offered him one of my razors, the kind I use on my legs. I apologized a thousand times.
He would not talk to me, except to tell me he can go to the store himself and pick his own fucking razor on his way to work.
Also, that I should be afraid.

OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD

I am ready to pull my hair out. I am so pissed at myself, and guilty, and ashamed, and AFRAID. I know he has every right to be mad at me. I deserve to be punished.
But guys? THIS IS GOING TO BE BAD.
I KEEP PUTTING EVERYTHING IN CAPSLOCK BECAUSE I AM SCREAMING IN MY HEAD.

I was hoping just writing this post might calm me down some. Clearly it is not. 

Coming Out of the Cave

I get the feeling sometimes people think Husband and I have this perfect, 'June and Ward' relationship. It's not true. --My last tweet


Maybe it's my fault people think this. I don't like to write about Husband's bad side. He's not here to defend himself (although that's his own fault; I'll get to that in a minute). And it's not fair for me to highlight all his unattractive issues, when I have so many myself. 


But everything is not okay in Cassa Cross. We're facing a line in the sand that's turning into a wall, and I don't know how to hurdle it. 


I live in an area that has a very strong, vibrant, and large kink community. I'm not kidding when I say I could go to a different much every night for a month if I wanted to. I don't know if other communities in other areas are that dynamic, but I'm guessing not, at least not most of them.


After all this time, I'm still not in "the scene." I don't go to munches on a regular basis. I don't go to events. People don't know who I am.
I was at a munch last week, and I told people I've been in a D/s relationship for 16 years (more, if you count the time before we were married). They all assumed I must be new to the area; because how can you be in a D/s relationship for that long and not be known in the kink community?


I am not trying to imply there's something wrong with not being in "The Community." My relationship with my Husband didn't need "The Community" to thrive. If you don't want to be involved in the kink community, that's fine. 


But here's the problem: I want to be. 
Husband does not.


He has nothing against kinky people. He has a problem with people in general. As I've said before, he's as social as a cave monk. 
I want to go to munches, and events, and classes. I want to be invited to parties. I want to invite other people to my parties. I want to make real life friends.
Husband has no issue with me going to all these things on my own. In fact, he encourages me to go and have fun. But he refuses to join me.


And I go to munches, and I see other couples there talking and laughing, and I get jealous. I resent Husband for not being willing to make this effort for me. It gets uncomfortable having to explain to people over and over again that yes, I have a Dom, yes, we are monogamous, but no, he is not there with me. You will probably never meet him. But he really is real! He's not imaginary! I'm not making him up! He's just...absent. 


Husband and I have spoken about this many times. His answer always boils down to I'm willing to go to an event where I can make you scream. I'm not going so I can talk to people. If you're going to make me feel obligated to talk to people, count me out.
And the thing is, he's not obligated to talk to people. I've told him he doesn't have to say a single damn word if he doesn't want to. All he has to do is be by my side.
But he doesn't even want to be around people. If you want me to go out to dinner with you, we'll go, just the two of us, he says. If other people are showing up, I'm not going. 


He didn't use to be like this. Years and years ago, when we were still living in Israel, we had a nice circle of friends we could hang out and play with. 
(It sounds so kindergartenish: You want to come out and play? Why can't life be more like that?)
I want that back. 


Dear Husband, why can't you make the slightest effort for me on this matter? A munch is a few hours of your life. I've already told you, you don't have to talk to anyone if you don't want to. You don't have to open your fucking mouth. Just COME with me. Sit by my side, hold my hand, look like you're happy to be seen with me in public. Why is this so hard? Why can't you do this for me? Why do you have to turn this into a line in the sand? 


I don't know what to do. The ball is in his court. I'm not going to stop going to munches now; I'm going to another one this week. But I'll keep feeling awkward, keep getting jealous of the other happy couples I see there...and my resentment will keep growing. 
And then what?

Discipline vs Punishment

As I was leaning over the bathroom counter today, receiving a harsh spanking for another lapse in judgement, I had an epiphany. It had to do with the way Husband and I approach discipline and punishment, and how we view the difference between the two.
I'm going to try to articulate it, because I think there might be others out there who subscribe to the same way of thinking, or maybe realize they do after reading this, even if they've never given it much thought before.
(I certainly didn't for a long time. After you've been in a relationship for a long enough, behaviors evolve, and it's hard to pick apart and reason out all the subtle nuances of why you do what you do.)
I make no claim to being an expert on this subject. But this is how it works for us.

Discipline
Discipline is what Husband treats me to when he's either
1. Trying to change my natural behavior
or
2. Trying to teach me to do an otherwise unnatural behavior until it becomes natural.

Let's use what happened this morning as an example. I left our bathroom a mess. Now, he has laid down a strict rule that I am NOT allowed to "take over" our bathroom.  I cannot hang up my hosiery all over the shower and door hook, I cannot leave my makeup, hair supplies, and eye-care supplies all over the counter, etc. etc. You get the idea. The bathroom is shared, and I must share it.
However, this goes AGAINST my natural behavior. My natural inclination is to spread out my shit. I can't help it. I don't know if it's because I'm a woman, or what. It's just the way I am.
So every once in a while, Husband will come into the bathroom and realize every inch of counter space is again taken up with my makeup, hair dryer, perfume, lotions, etc. And he will have to discipline me as a reminder that I am supposed to control that.

Another example: I have impulse control issues. This is something I am constantly working on. Sometimes I say or do something without thinking, not because I'm trying to be bad, but because I can't help it. It's just my nature.
Husband disciplines me to help me learn how to control myself. But again, it's an ongoing lesson. I'm not "misbehaving," I'm just giving into my natural tendencies.

Punishment
Punishment, on the other hand, is reserved for times when I've strayed from my natural behavior and purposely gone out of my way to do something I know will make him angry. Punishment is for the times I've actively ( and perhaps maliciously) disobeyed.
There are probably dozens of examples for this. Refusing to do a task out of spite, yelling at him in front of the kids, "forgetting" to do his laundry when I've done everyone else's, or just basically doing anything that shows a lack of courtesy and respect, would earn a punishment. My natural inclination is to avoid hurting him. If I insult or offend him, most likely it's because I wanted to, which is bad. (Very very bad.)

Of course, sometimes it's hard for us to tell the difference between discipline and punishment, and after all these years, we don't even bother giving it thought. But I think, deep down, there's a difference in both approach, and closure.
 Husband approaches discipline with more forgiveness and understanding. He knows it's hard for me to go against my character. It's a constant struggle.
With that in mind, there's no real closure, either. We both know, eventually, I'm going to screw up again. It might be a while, but it's only a matter of time.

Punishment, on the other hand, is brought forth with very little, if any, forgiveness and understanding. It's usually served with heavy doses of disappointment, frustration, and dismay.
But once the punishment is over, there is total closure, because there is no expectation I'll do the same thing again. There shouldn't have to be, if the punishment was effective.

Overlap between discipline and punishment happens when I've done something that would normally be indicative of my nature (being the smart-assed masochist that I am), but Husband thinks I should've learned better by now. Like, oh, sewing flowers on his pants, or turning the sprinkler system on when he's outside, or painting his nails while he's sleeping. After all these years, he thinks I should know better.
I'm a work in progress.
(The word he uses is "entertaining.")
(Also "crazy," but I prefer entertaining.)
I hope you've found this useful.

The Drama Beast

I know your aversion to "drama." I understand you don't want people looking at you for all the wrong reasons, to satisfy some nasty little need to be fascinated by something. I know you don't want people judging you, or worse, pitying you. You've heard me use the quote,"pity is always laced with a little bit of contempt," and I hold that to be true.

(Which is why I do not pity you, and will not, ever. Because, my friend, if you hear me say I pity someone, you can know I mean it as the dirtiest insult.)

I also understand you don't want to burden anyone with your thoughts, your feelings, your concerns. The world of BDSM is blanketed with land mines of fallen reputations, twisted with labels and innuendoes. At its core, the thing that helps us keep marching on to find our own way, the thing that unites us, our most cherished ideal, is this: consent.

Forcing another to go through pain, fear, humiliation, intimidation, any of the sensations we subs relish in the proper circumstances, become the ultimate taboo if there's a lack of consent.

So I get it: you don't want to share your "drama," because it might make others feel uncomfortable. It might make them get angry on your behalf, or question things they don't want to have to question. It might make them afraid.
And forcing them to feel those things without their consent might construed as, oh, let's say, rude.

But here's the thing, my friend: you are not saving anyone by keeping your emotions locked inside. Not your friends who care about you, not the people who would appreciate the chance to support you, and certainly not yourself.

Life is full of things we'd rather not see. It's tough that way. Sometimes we have to turn away, just to save ourselves. But most of us,
(I'd like to think most of us)
always, always, would rather hear what is going on...not to get some weird sense of fascination from it, not to find glory in it, but to try to make things better.

And there will be some who deride you. Some who will call you a liar. And yes, some disgusting immature people who will call you a drama queen.

Ignore them. They are not worth your time, your effort, even your contempt. They are not worth a single brain cell needed for thought. Because they do not understand life is not handed to you on a silver platter, already cut into bite-sized pieces with the gristle carved away. Life does not ask for your consent. Life is hard that way.

I pity them.

But there is so much beauty in the world, too: so much color, and wonder, and joy. Hopes, and dreams, and impossibilities being made possible, every day.
You are a joy, my friend. You are part of the beauty I see in this world. You, with your pain and despair, I hold dear to my heart.
So if you need anyone's consent to let loose the beast inside you, I give it you, freely.
Let the beast run, my friend.
Let the beast run.
And then let it go.

Laughter

I'm going to assume most of my readers watch BDSM/kink videos. A lot of people I know prefer the videos on Fetlife, because even though they're often of lower quality, at least the scene and the people in them are real. They're not a bunch of paid actors being told what to do and how to look. The responses and reactions are genuine.

Of course, there is some acting going on. The people know they are being filmed. They want to look as good as possible. A lot of the time, this means they want to look as close to those other "professional" videos as possible, the paid-for stuff. And in those videos, nobody laughs.

No, in those videos, everyone is locked into a role. The bottoms are scared but stoic, seraphic and sensual creatures who look at the camera with eyes full of wanton appeal. The tops are strong, domineering types, who do a lot of frowning and ordering the bottoms about.
Nobody looks like they're actually having fun. They're all fulfilling a need, giving into a craving.
And nobody laughs.

When Husband and I are fooling around, getting our kink on, we are always laughing. It doesn't matter if he's got me bent over the bed, or contorted me into some strange position, or locked me into cuffs and bars. It doesn't matter what he's doing to me, or making me do. Our times are always filled with laughter, because we are having fun and enjoying ourselves.

Sometimes it's an anxiety-induced laughter. When I get nervous, I laugh. I can't help it. If Husband is about to discipline me, I know it's going to hurt, and nine times out of ten, I know I deserve it. But I fear it just the same, and try to assuage my fear with laughter.
Sometimes, Husband will say or do something funny during a critical moment, and I'll just crack up laughing. It doesn't "ruin" the scene, or disrupt it. In fact, it makes it more intimate somehow. The laughter draws us further into the scene, and into each other.
Sometimes, if I feel like I've gotten the upper hand, I'll let out a short laugh of triumph. Let's not forget, this is a power exchange, and sometimes Husband has to work to maintain his power. If I feel like I've managed to wrest it away from him, even a little, then hell yes, I'm going to enjoy that moment for as long as I can, and my enjoyment often comes through with laughter.
Sometimes I laugh because it just feels good. I'm where I want to be, doing what I want to do. I'm happy, I'm boisterous: I laugh.

Laughter releases tension. It lets the other person know, on some level deep down, you are okay. It means you're having fun, enjoying your time together, giving and taking pleasure. It means, no matter what is going on in the scene, you are happy to be there and be a part of it.

I don't know why so many people think laughter is inappropriate for kink videos. It makes just as much sense as all those moans and cries. When I hear a sub laugh, I know her (or his) reactions, and pleasure, are real. That doesn't detract from the scene I'm watching; it makes it all the more genuine.

Spreading the word is not enough, but it's a start

I am reprinting this post, by permission, from the blog A Slut's Memoir. It's written by an owned sub named iSlut_ who can also be contacted via Twitter.
This post is powerful and provoking, and might make you angry. You know what, it should make you angry. It should make all of us angry. This is a fucking travesty.


Fuck you. Without a condom.

WHY is it not a crime for a man to penetrate someone, without a condom, without explicit permission?

Why can that man only be arrested if

1. the sex itself is nonconsensual;

2. or he *knows* he has HIV, does not disclose this info, and has unprotected sex with intent to spread disease, and *actually* infects someone;

3. or has repeatedly spread other STDs, and has been repeatedly been asked by the public health department to desist?

Why is it that if a woman carries more than two condoms she can be prosecuted as a whore?

Why (since since she is a whore) that woman be arrested for sex without a condom no matter who it's with?

Why would a man bareback someone after he agreed to use condoms?

Why do normal victim reactions include WAY too much guilt... and anger focused everywhere else but where it should be? 

Why does an ER staff go into sexual assault mode if they think a stupid twit was too drunk to demand a condom... but when they find out condom use was negotiated in advance, the victim counselor suddenly packs up and walks out? I needed that much more than the warm blanket...

"You really want to be tested for STDs? Why?" ~the doctor

Why would someone take advantage of my absolute trust in Sir to harm me... and hurt Him?

Why can't I write about this? 

Some of my favorite avis among my Twitter peeps

The title says it all.

(Having said that, it was tough to choose, since I mingle with a rather raunchy and sordid bunch who have some very nice (read: arousing) avis. There are the ones that tend to snag my eyes, not necessarily because they are hot. Some are just whimsy and/or downright catching. I'll probably finish the list on another post.)

@Suburbsexaddict

@PornIsMyNirvana

@ColonelMatrix73

@GirlDeviante

@SadGirlPancakes

@MasterSweetums

@_Cammer

@MasterCrowley

@f33t4life

@Phoenix_R

@MischievousMynx

@Sefton_Hart

@twistedmonk