Our Domestic Discipline Lifestyle


I am having a big struggle with this. I have seen a lot of other submissive bloggers have this same problem. Therefore I already know I am not alone in this. My situation is a bit unique in I never wanted a career. I still don’t want a career. Survival though necessitates that I make money, so I have a career. The problem is assertiveness gets in the way of my submission.

I am a natural submissive. Submissive is my comfort zone. I am not a go getter, follow me or go to hell type of person. I am a follower. I have reached a point in my writing though that I have to be assertive. I have to put myself out there talk let folks know I am alive intelligent and someone they want to read. This means high activity on all social media. Working on my writing blog daily and talking to folks. Watching statistics being friendly, warm and out there.

How does that interfere with my submissive self? Well easy really. I am comfortable sitting back and being quiet. I am comfortable letting DH deal with people and him and I working together. In order to promote myself and my novel I have to reach out. I have to be active. I have to think and interact. I have to build a foundation of readers. After a day of being on the computer and being a people person, I am exhausted.

What I want is to be used. I want my DH to just use me hard and take control. I want him to take all the stress of reaching so far outside myself away. The only way I can communicate that need is to tell him. Since I am so far inside the internet I loose track of him and where he is with his day. The playful banter is lost between us and I don’t know what his mood is. So I don’t say anything for that reason. There is the other reason that saying I need you to man handle me is topping from the bottom and I don’t like doing that.

How do you handle this? What do you do to get past the demands of life to your submissive person? Do you switch it off easy or is it a struggle?

Can I Have a Spanking Please?

I never thought those words would ever come from my mouth, “Can I have a spanking please?” Have I lost my ever loving mind? I constantly ask myself with laughter in my heart and a growing need to be dominated.

I know I have not been posting like a good girl or blogger should. I beg your pardon for the spider webs and lack of prose this site has attained The good news is since my last post of fighting myself and feeling a terrible need to be punished. We worked through it. We have moved through it past it and have delighted in the other side of the journey.

I think after these past weeks, in which we did experience some stressor and a spanking or two was delivered for my bitchiness and sassy disrespect. I am no longer looking for reasons to give him to spank me. He comes up with plenty on his own.

I have also found my sense of humor again. I missed that part of me for awhile. I am back to teasing him and torturing him as we travel down the road. We both missed that in each other, so we are adjusting.

I think we both took for granite the big adjustment moving our lifestyle from a casual BDSM relationship to a full time Domestic Discipline Marriage would be. We took some good suggestions of keeping it simple and our rules are quite simple. So simple that I really do not cross the line very often, although this week I had a hard time and I did get punished but more about that in a moment.

What we took for granite was spankings would be easy. Easy for him to do and easy for me to submit to, we were wrong. When you switch gears from BDSM to Domestic Discipline the sadist/masochist relationship changes. I have always been a submissive, and he has always been dominant, but when you apply those to a marriage full time. The dynamic changes, you are no longer spanking for play you are spanking to enforce. That takes time to change.

We got through it though and we believe we are on the other side My topping from the bottom has come to a halt which I never realized in the BDSM I was doing. With Domestic Discipline the topping from the bottom became crystal clear. If I truly submitted to my husband I had to let him decide what was best. I had to sit back and be patient and let go. I finally got there. We found the boundary to playful teasing each other and this new dynamic. Life is better after a small struggle.

Now for my latest actual punishment and the story behind it; I am a writer. An unpublished author or artist, I have been working to change that situation for a long time now and never had the courage to send a finished novel into a publisher. Well with the encouragement of my husband and a few friends I finally quit fussing and sent it in. This took a lot of courage on my part.

Mustering that courage up and putting my confidence in full swing took some doing on my part. The experience rattled me to say the least I was edgy. I became a snappy, bitchy shrew. I think that description is a bit mild for my behavior. With my internal battle raging I was not much of a lover either. My sex drive to an all time low, you put that together with my attitude and snippiness and you have the recipe for an attitude adjustment.

I was definitely not being submissive or me I was so lost in the whole process. When my husband had finally had enough, which was well after I had completely submitted my book he gave me the talk.

We talked calmly about the situation, my mood, what all of it had done to me and us. Me in my not so wisest moments, when I truly do not think I deserve to be punished. I say, “I am just thrown off center having to go back into the corporate world in such a small scale.”

Thrown off center is my phrase for “Help Me” and help me he did. He did not go lightly either. We discussed my disrespectfulness. How my snippiness made him feel and my need to be submissive. He put it all in line with a good hard spanking that he took his time doing. It hurt.

I am better now. I am back to center. I have started a new writing project and I am picking up on my web writing responsibilities as well. So back to center I am. I will be posting on a regular basis soon. Probably this week you will notice a regular post or two.

31 Miles to Needs Met

Riding in our 18 wheeler rolling down the road at a pleasant clip I do not want the wheels to stop. I know what is coming when they do. My ass will be his.

Do not misinterpret my feelings or my words. I love this lifestyle. I love being his submissive. I love having him be our head of household. I love that I have consequences this life is easy for me. I understand it. I flourish in it.

When it comes to the hours before prior to a spanking my heart quakes, I desire it I want it but I know the pain to come. I know it will sting, hurt and burn. I know it will be tender the next day. I want to be reminded every time I sit down for the next day that he spanked me. It is the waiting, the ride to the destination of spankville that kills me.

I am not looking forward to a spanking, not in the hours just before the due date no. My butt begins to feel warm and the mere feeling of my jeans across my ass feels raw and treacherous. It feels as though the skin knows what is coming and the nerves are already reacting.

I was so caught up in desire yesterday I worsened all this on my self. In a moment of succumbing to the pleasures of his fingers and touches, I blurted out how I craved for him to torture my body I wanted to please his sadistic desires. Yes I know silly me I said that to a sadist.

Now I am writing this knowing the miles are passing, the moments getting closer that my not only my ass will be afire but my entire body will fill his needs. I am delightfully frightened. I trust him with all of my soul I trust him. I am worried though that I may not be able to process the pain as I should. That I will hurt when I should have control, I need this I need this release, but I still am frightened.

I need tears I need satisfaction I need to feel. 31 miles to go and I will get my needs met.

Rebellion Haulted

Twenty-three miles from Barstow and one hundred 32 miles to our delivery site; yesterday I posted about my need to be bad. My need to be controlled and punished unmercifully, about that here and on a Yahoo site I am a member of.

I received some good advice. 1. Just because I feel or have a carnal need to push his buttons. I don’t have to act on impulses take the high road. Behave like a good submissive.

I for the most part have been taking the high road. What I had been doing was soft snide remarks and disinterest in sex. I have been submitting but not really interested. This is not me. I love sex vanilla or alternative lifestyle sex I will take anything from him I can get.

Last night I apologized for my behavior for pushing his buttons and the envelopes. We did not discuss it at the time. He had other things on his mind. This morning I opened up. I made sure he was busy driving. I wanted time to talk about this. I wanted to discuss ttwd and my current fight within to make him fight for my submission.

This brought up a who he is why he lets me get away with stuff and how he feels he is not. I just don’t see the little corrections he does as corrections of my behavior. Primarily because we usually laugh about it and I correct my behavior immediately usually. The past 14 days has been tough. I have been rebelling and we talked about that too.

I told him or reminded him of my frustration and what I believe I need from Domestic Discipline and TTWD.

He said, “What you want is for me to tear your ass up. Take you apart to a crying sniveling mess and put you together again.”

Me, “Yes, I do.”

He said, “I can do that.” Including an evil laugh and grin.

That evil laugh and grin are not fake and nor was it meant to make me laugh. I did not laugh at all. This exchange brought fear, excitement, dread and longing all to the surface. My husband’s sadistic side bubbling to the surface in ecstasy of the freedom to express his true personality I smiled a little apprehensive. We continued toward California.

There I sat tears in my eyes, lump in my throat, a pit in my stomach and a knot in my chest. The feeling as though if I had a tail it would be tucked. I am getting what I asked for. When he gets time, which will be later this afternoon after we unload and shower, I am going to get it.

I road another twenty to thirty miles now contemplating all the new feelings. The frustration has subsided but I have opened up the gates to a spanking that is going to hurt like hell. Honestly I am not happy about that, I am happy that my acting out will end.

I though being a woman and feeling the need to discuss my new apprehension, desire and fear. I needed to tell him I was not looking forward to the pain of what I had asked for although I knew I deserved it. I also told him I wasn’t telling him about my new feelings in a plea for leniency.

He also had been sitting there through those miles thinking. He says he is going to be more diligent with maintenance. He finally understands my needs a little more and my need to connect with him on a regular basis. He understands my frustration. He will set up a schedule and be more diligent with that schedule.

So what have I gotten myself into in these past few weeks; he is expressing his sadistic side, I am a domestic disciplined wife, we have graduated to implements, and now we are going to maintain my discipline and our connection with regular maintenance spankings. The biggest thing I have volunteered little alabaster butt for is a spanking that will be more intense than anything I have ever experienced.

When I look at him and meet his eyes I see a flicker of excitement, mischievous delight, and something else I can not define. I may get by with just a spanking that takes me a few steps farther than the one 2 weeks ago. He may very well take me apart and put me back together. It is his decision. We are learning about ourselves and each other through all of this. OH for the record I have not acted out, been snide, or talked back this entire trip since our conversations this morning. Maybe that will save my backside a little.

Rebellion in the Wind

Rebellion in the wind is biting at me. I really enjoy our lifestyle ttwd is my anchor. My husband is my anchor but rebellion is boiling. I have been making little jabs and pushing him back. He has been for the most part letting me get away with it. Maybe this is a growing pain?

I am getting hints though he is growing tired of my attitude. He hasn’t told me I am cruising but the look in his eyes that silent communication between us tell me I am on the brink of correction. Does this make me happy to know I am on the brink of correction? Somewhere deep within I suppose it does. My subconscious could be directing my conscious mind to rebel.

It wouldn’t be beyond my mind to do this to me. To express my carnal need to be dominated by my husband, my lover. The question though if my rebellion of sorts is an expression of carnal need and desire isn’t that exactly what domestic discipline is not about?

Domestic discipline is a household outline for a marriage a boundary defining model. Carnal need of a woman to be disciplined is not in the rule book or outline so to speak. We as women are suppose to honor our husbands with our submission and our obedience to his capabilities to lead the family.

We are basically not suppose to push the envelope. I know maintenance spankings should cover this carnal need maybe. This time though deep within I want him to take it. I have the passion or the need to see him upset or angry with my behavior. I want him to be impatient and take his head of household position instead of accepting my submission to his authority.

This whole mixture of feelings has me feeling a little crazy. Yet at times when I rebel and talk back or get snide I internally admonish myself for acting and misbehaving yet I feel powerless to correct the behavior myself. BDSM is a willing act between two people in an agreed scene or mutual adventure of trust. What I want is way beyond that ideal too. I don’t want to talk it out and agree to a scene.

I think this rebellion is about pushing his buttons so hard he gets frustrated enough to force my behavior correction. I want to feel his wrath subconsciously. So consciously what is wrong with me? Why would I push the envelope when I know it is fundamentally wrong with any of the lifestyle definitions we participate in? Anyone else ever experience this?

This thing we do happened to me this afternoon. Over his knees butt shinning and completely submitting to his will. I did not get spanked because I had done anything to deserve it. I got spanked because I asked for it literally. I am trying very hard to work on my recovery. I am trying to put to rest the demons that haunt me.

The craziness has been affecting everything in my life. The ghosts and demons of my past filtering in at inopportune moments and taking my mind away I have been doomed to sit in silence and fight them alone. TTWD when he takes control and I submit to him, be it the sheer dress he loves, BDSM or a spanking, I am assured of his love for me, his passion for me and his willingness.

My husband is willing to experiment and help me conquer my illness. It does not matter if it is my mental health or my physical health he is here to help. This is a love affair where I know I would lay my life down for him he also would give his life for mine. We are a team. A team that is inseparable.

As I try and take baby steps to control my mind. As I move forward to write at the caliber I am truly capable of. As I work to mend the hearts I have broken and the worry I have caused in my family. My husband will be beside me. We may be a Domestic Discipline house hold, he may be the head of household and the leader of our small family, but he is also my teammate as any captain or leader should be. We all have jobs.

I know that no matter what I do or how much I struggle to regain my spirit, my mind, my life. My husband is beside me holding my hand, supporting me when I fall, and spanking my bottom when I deserve it and when I ask him to.

It is hot. Not the sexual energy type of hot. I am talking about the weather type hot. I received bad news yesterday. A friend of mine went to sleep Friday and never woke up Saturday morning. She was 45, my age, just gone in a blink. As you know I am a passionate person. My emotions run wild and my mind sometimes has trouble dealing with reality. This event in my life though has brought a semblance of sobriety.

I cried and I threw a bit of a fit when I heard. My emotions began to move up and down and all around. Then something snapped inside me. I thought about my friends life and I thought about her death. Jen, my friend, had just finished college and was beginning a job as a registered nurse. She was beginning a fresh start.

She was beautiful, healthy, loving, happy and smart. She was alone when she died. She was single with no children and she died alone in the night. Now that makes me wonder if she had not been alone would she be alive. I don’t mean to imply that she died of loneliness I am just saying if she had been sleeping with someone could her death have been averted. Could there have been a successful rescue of my fiend.

Don has saved me a couple of times from the grim reaper. He jokes how many times he has saved me. Both times have not been acts by my own hand. Both times have be medical emergencies that could happen to anyone and had nothing to do with my mental illness.

I am also thinking about the good my friend had to offer the world. How her life had meaning and should not have ended. There was still work for her to do as I see it. She could make anyone smile and laugh.

I spend a lot of time miserable. The stories I write are about women overcoming something. Always a hurdle or a cross to bare that is what I know. That is what my life has been. Therefore that is what I write about. My mind plays tricks on me while Jens mind was taking her to help others. She was happy I am miserable. She had an understanding with the world and I see ghosts and spirits menacing me.

I am confused with this loss. I don’t understand it. I want to be better and I am trying to be happier. Ignoring the fiends that haunt my mind, I will continue to write. The difference this death has caused me though is I am setting a goal to post positive happier things and live a happier life.

I feel I should explain my earlier post. I am an eclectic soul. My talents vary and I fight for control sometimes of all the things that make me who I am. There have been times that the end of this journey to self control would be death. My moods roll about like a crap shoot at times. The story, “The Ugliness” is an illustration of how I feel about my mind.

Triggers are the spirit that controls my being. My triggers can lead to any one of the parts of me that exist within. Sometimes those triggers can be manifested in a dream, by a word or phrase, or by a random feeling. My DH and I live with me flopping around and he never knows whom he will wake to on any given morning.

That is why routine is so important in my life. Routine keeps me moving forward. I know exactly what to do next and the feelings or that ugly spirit that controls me looses control because I have duties. I have responsibilities and things to get done on a basic routine that begins my day.

Now not everyday can be exactly as the one before. Although that would be best for me I am certain DH and most sane people would get rather tired of the monotony of such things. Today we began with our routine and as our morning wound down and the difference of today began I was triggered. It was not DH’s fault. He was voicing an opinion to someone else that had nothing to do with me. Absolutely nothing, but his voice and sound made me feel he was unhappy and I internalized that to mean there was no way I could make anyone happy.

That in itself sounds crazy. The situation triggered my depression and eventually I was fighting the suicidal thoughts once again. When one believes everything is their fault it is a perfect solution to remove you from the world to make the world right again. I know this is not a sane person’s way of looking at life, but I never claimed to be sane.

The previous post gives you a glimpse of my life and how my brain works. IT also gives you an idea of how careful my DH is to protect me. Why there are so many steps and rituals to cover before he decides what is best in ttwd. He never makes a snap decision. He always takes time to evaluate my place and mental state before he speaks or takes action regarding my actions.

Domestic discipline gives him a benchmark and gives us a form to follow so to speak to handle these delicate situations that develop in my mind. He knows I am intelligent, he knows that if I was not fighting disease I could do or resume my previous role as a bookkeeper and business manager. But until there is a miracle cure of my curse we are working within these bounds very carefully.

Today he woke to the person I described in Ugliness. I was confused, frustrated and not rational. I was haunted and a simple action by him triggered all of it. We work daily to stop the haunting and win this battle over my mental illness.

I am in a space. It is white no windows, no doors, no definition of a room just a space. A circle of wooden straight back chairs with forms occupying them. A single chair sits in the center this is my chair. I am sitting hands folded, patiently waiting. I can see the forms in the chairs are beings and these beings are all forms of me. Each is a little different but they are all me. The child, the teenager, the young adult, the mother, the caregiver, the matriarch, the daughter, the sister, the wife, the submissive, the entrepreneur, the nymphomaniac, the chronic depressive, the suicidal, the will to live, the quitter and the fighter. All of the many versions of me sit around the single me that is my body. Spirits, ghosts, of my past, my present and my future.

This place has no definition. This place has no agenda I am aware of this place is home to the many versions of me. A spirit though appears she is over us all. Floating about with crooked nose, warts and knots on her skin. We, the many forms of me, can see through her transparent form as she circles us. She is an elder or a leader. She controls my destiny.

Her transparent long hair flows behind her and her ugliness exudes from around her and I feel fear. She is my controller, my puppet master, she determines who will be alive and who will stay behind. Each day I begin my day in this room all the versions of me waiting for a chance to control my thoughts and my body. Sometimes I only have one version operating me and sometimes there are 2 or 3 fighting within me on the same day. We do not always fight sometimes she choose versions that compliment each other, those days are good. The days she chooses to put the conflicting versions together tears me apart and makes me sick. My mind cannot take the turmoil.

She still is swirling the air above and her choice has not been made. This ugly creature is evil. She hates me I can feel it. Her control over me is a game for her. She loves to watch me fight to survive when she puts Suicidal me with Chronic Depressive me and she takes me to the brink of death.

Today she chooses to mix my world and blind me to her choices. Geometric shapes begin to fill the room. They come closer and float out of reach moving away as quickly as the approach. The center me begins to feel very small and then very large as the shapes dance about me. Colors and Dots join in and begin to dance around me. I feel nothing in my heart but my stomach feels sick. Vertigo begins to rise within me and my hands feel num, big, clumsy. I am unable to touch or feel the objects around me. I can not place my fingers around the dancing items. My body grows large then small over and over increasing the sensation of vertigo.

I finally stop.

She has chosen the spirit of ugliness has decided my day. I begin my journey into today not knowing what parts of me will prevail. Then the trigger is pulled. The events unfold and I am greeted by chronic depression and suicide. My two worst enemies, the two parts of me can destroy my will. They can pull me under and I find I promote those that love me to hate my very existence.
The fatigue in my soul makes this day too surreal to move through. I want to give up I do not want to fight this again. I just want to close my eyes and let my life end.

I am full of frustration. I am angry my emotions run the rampant river of rage and self loathing. My self control is lost. This new place is strange as I see my children’s father across the room his new girlfriend next to him. There is a kitchen table between us and I stand next to my husband. The table is filled with can goods and bills. Everyday expenses of life, my anger builds inside me at the former lover before me.

I pick up the cans and I begin to throw them at him. I am strong. My anger rages within me and I am on a mission to end his life with the cans.

He screams in pain as I hit him. His girlfriend stands and watches unable to comprehend the scene.

He becomes coherent in his screaming, “Control that crazy person.” He says to my husband.

My husband reaches to control me and I fight him. Although my frame is small I have strength in my anger the adrenalin pushes me on. I pull away from my husband and continue to plummet my ex with the cans. Watching him begin to cower my heart finally feels vengeance. I feel relief that I have beaten him. I feel power and justified.

My husband again tries to control me. With the power of justification though I become weak, I begin to cry. The sadness envelopes me and I leave. I leave them all there in that room with my destruction. No one follows, no one tries to stop me and I continue my journey to end the control of the ugliness that enables my life.

The Path

My DH and I have traveled very different paths to find each other in our mid lives. Our backgrounds are similar and completely different at the same time. He was 7 ½ in 1966 when I was born. In 1977 I was 11 and news of the hostages in Iran rang in my elementary school classroom. DH was a marine in Okinawa, Japan on alert waiting for the President to either send them into combat or stand down. The 80’s found me as a high school student and eventually care taker of my grandmother, while he became a father.

We are together now although we are from different experiences in time. Our views of history and opinions of actions taken are seen from different angles at times. All couples though have these differences. Our intimacy though is seen through different angles of different lenses.

When I make a mistake or step off our path I feel I should be punished. I feel he should take me in hand and correct it. He knows, in his wisdom, that no one punishes me more than myself. He waits for us to talk about it. He listens to how I analyze my mistake in conversation with him. Then he gives me his opinion and ideas. I see it through his lenses and angles. He in turns sees what happened through my lenses and my angles.

Domestic Discipline has taught us to communicate honestly and openly. We calmly explain our points and visions. He is still the leader and he makes our decisions but I feel validated that he actually listens to me. That my words are not swept under a rug and forgotten, I also see how well he listens when he comes up with something I told him about and either gives it to me or utilizes my idea. He is quicker to praise me when I have done well.

This thing we do has brought us closer and our intimacy is above anything in my experience. This lifestyle choice is bringing me slowly out of the shadows of despair. My mind is beginning to feel sharper and appreciated I feel valued. I am also beginning to write again. A craft I though my disease had taken from me. So off I go into another facet of my life a happy disciplined wife.