Monday, January 8, 2018
Guest Post: Better Get Used to It
This is the third of what I hope will not be the last from my friend Katie Christian. Enjoy!
In my role as the head of our home, I feel it is my responsibility to keep things from becoming stagnant. As I see it, since he is not allowed to say no, and must follow my lead then I have nobody but myself to blame if our dominant/submissive relationship becomes stale. My remedy for this is that I push his and my boundaries by trying new things, even if I have reservations about them ever becoming a permanent part of our understanding.
I rarely inform him ahead of time unless I think the anticipation of the event would add something to it for him or me. I do allow him to express his thoughts or concerns to me respectfully, but after listening I usually let him know that I have heard his concerns, but we are moving forward with it anyhow. Sometimes, I just try it without warning.
So, there is a growing list of things we have tried. Some I have chosen to continue to practice. Some he found so distasteful I only use them as a threat. Some I have enjoyed or seen the benefit of that it has now become a part of our lifestyle.
Each experiment results in one of the following:
If we will likely never do it again I will tell him it was a one-off.
If it is something I would enjoy on a limited basis I tell him it is now another tool in my toolbox.
If I really liked it and plan to “visit it” again soon, I usually say “better get used to it”.
For some time, he had been asking for me to introduce spanking into our time together, something that quite honestly provided little interest to me. I have no desire to humiliate or injure my husband.
But you know, we all change. I can’t tell you what it was, but it seemed that the idea of my husband making himself so vulnerable to me began to hold some appeal. I found myself thinking about it often. As I gave it more thought I determined it would not be in my best interest to connect this with transgression on his part because if he enjoyed the experience than it could motivate him to do wrong just to induce the punishment. Does that make sense?
When I finally decided to give it a try I grabbed a cup of coffee and asked him to meet me in the dining room. I had him kneel on the floor in front of me, so I could look into his eyes as I communicated my thoughts. I never expected the feeling of power, or the rush I would feel having my husband kneel before me as I calmly talked about giving his bare bottom a thrashing. I talked in a very matter of fact way, choosing carefully each word pausing often to measure the response in his eyes.
I extended the conversation with numerous sips of coffee allowing my words to sink in. It was strangely beautiful to be talking so calmly to my husband about spanking him. Was I getting excited? I know he was.
He honestly seemed embarrassed as he squirmed to adjust to his erection growing in his cage.
I am sure he hoped that the event would quickly follow, but I felt this is one of those times that the anticipation of it held a certain value. I simply told him when I am in the right mood I would let him know.
I was surprised that I found my anticipation growing. At least it would be fun to say that I had done it once.
I decided the day would be a Friday in case he needed a day or two to adjust to a sore bottom before going back to work. Friday morning I sent him a text letting him know that as soon as he got home from work and before he started with supper, I was going to warm his bottom. He had all day to think about it.
When he walked through the door that evening the expression on his face was priceless. I said nothing, I just walked up to him and began to kiss him passionately for several minutes. Then like a wife leading her husband into the bedroom to make love, I took his hand and led him into the bedroom to spank him. When we entered the bedroom I simply told him to take off his belt and hand it to me, let his pants drop to the floor, and bend over my side of the bed. When his face hit the bed it was on the spot that cradled my bottom when I slept. I just think that was rather poignant.
I was caught off guard by the feelings going through me. I found my heart racing and my face flushed. I sincerely had no idea why I felt this way. I am not sure if it was because it went against my principles, because I felt embarrassed for this grown man being so exposed and vulnerable or if it was something else. But I was determined to go through with what I promised. The poor dear was probably wondering what is she doing back there for so long?
The first swing of the belt was, well embarrassing. I barely hit him. The way he jumped it was obvious he expected it to be harder. We both laughed.
The next was a little harder. I had to make adjustments so I could get a better angle and get a better swing, but I soon got into a rhythm. I hadn’t planned how many times I would hit him, I just figured I would keep going until I wanted to stop. But I found myself wanting to keep going!
Though he was only squirming a little, it felt proper to reach up and hold him to the bed as I belted him.
During the entire process, I never spoke a word. I was intrigued at the marks the belt started to make, the sounds he was starting to make, the spectacle of this big strong man allowing me to beat him just because I wanted to, and the feelings I was starting to have. I started to enjoy this, I mean really ENJOY it. It excited me. I honestly don’t know how many times I hit him but it had to be near 100. I stopped, not because I was done, but because I wanted to start something else. I told him to stay where he was as I unwrapped the belt from my hand and slid my yoga pants down before sitting in the chair across the room. As I breathe heavily and stared at my handy work my fingers found their way . . .
15 minutes later I told him he could get up and start dinner. "Oh, and by the way. You better get used to it."