I’ve been meaning to share what happened at my girlfriend “lunch bunch” get together. (The one I mentioned in Post 211. Eek! Dom Fail). But, I keep thinking of other things to share and now, well, now it will have wait. Here’s the thing —
MY GROWING OBSESSION
This is my 17th post this month, that’s a lot for me. I have felt this increase impulse to share – almost an obsession. This month I also joined a couple of different online DD communities. I also have a few pen pals so to speak – people I email with back and forth. People I met through my blog or those communities. On top of that, there is my “vanilla” online self via Facebook and Twitter, and the texts and emails I exchange with friends and family members. I have spent many more hours this month on every one of the things I’ve listed here.
I have shared before I have this tendency to want to be everyone’s problem solver. Not in a “you should do this” sort of way, but more like a therapist. Listening and guiding, not dictating. Mike recognized I was spending an increasing amount of time on these things – any down time I had would be spent with my head buried in my phone, or typing away at the computer. Mike warned me he felt it was interfering in my duties. Nothing concrete he could point to, just a sense, thus, it was just a warning.
HAPHAZARD HOUSEWIFE
Yesterday, I was in our bedroom putting laundry away when Mike came in. He commented on how sloppy our bed looked. I had made it, but clearly not to his liking. He looked at things I had folded and also noted they were not up to my usual standard.
He was right, I was going about my chores haphazardly, and to be honest, I admitted to Mike that I was hurrying to make more time for myself. Kayla and Michaud were taking J to the movies, and I wanted to use the time for some “me” time, which lately means “online time.” (And yes, Michaud was coming over to our house afterwards, but that’s another post).
Mike told me to go stand in the corner and he would be back once Kayla and J left, which was not for another thirty minutes or so. I undressed and stood in the corner. I hope we don’t end up worrying J about “mom’s headaches.” That’s our go to excuse when I am indisposed in the bedroom for extended periods of time. I digress.
Eventually they left and Mike returned to the room. I was called over to kneel before him. “Keep your eyes down,” he commanded as he stood over me.
He lectured me for some time, about how my past tendencies seem to be surfacing. He covered issues that he knows push every one of my “buttons” regarding what is important to me. He said he was disappointed in himself for only warning me instead of disciplining me. He thought by now I would have the self discipline to deal with it on my own, but clearly, I did not.
He sat down in a chair and called me over, across his knee. He spanked me countless times by hand. I started to cry. It was a hard spanking, but I’ve had much harder. It was more about the emotional release of guilt. I truly felt guilty. He was absolutely right. (I’ve written before about crying). I was absolutely too immersed in my online world and too immersed in every one else’s problems. Typical pre-DD Jenny.
He then told me to fetch “The Beast”, our 32 inch rubber prison strap. It’s been awhile since he has used it (now I wish I hadn’t made that post about nicknames). Nervous and crying, I brought it to him. I was keenly aware that no one else was home, so my impending shrieks were of no concern.
He told me to get on the bed and lay on my stomach. He then went into our toy box and came back with various restraints, cuffed my wrists and ankles, and secured them to the bedposts. “These are going to come quick. I want to hear you clearly and quickly count these out, else we start over.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He started with fairly moderate whacks, only three to five seconds a part. By the third my butt was stingy, and by the fifth I could tell they were coming with increased intensity. I screamed, “Six, thank you Sir” and before I could catch my breath, “Seven, thank you Sir,” Number eight came down very hard, and I yelled, “Eight, thank you Sir. Yellow Sir, yellow!”
Mike pauses and rubs my butt. “You deserve two more, so I’ll give you a minute or two so we can finish.” I sob with my face buried in a pillow for the entire time and eventually manage to say, “Okay, Sir, I am ready.”
“Nine, thank you Sir. Ten, thank you Sir.”
Mike rubs my ass and gives it about ten quick swats with his hand. He doesn’t say anything and for a moment I thought he was retrieving another implement, but then I realize he simply left the room. Adding to the discomforts of being splayed out with my arms and legs spread wide and having a red hot butt that I want to rub so badly, is the fact my pillow is wet with the slobber and tears of a a good cry, which hasn’t yet fully subsided.
It is almost thirty minutes before Mike returns and the punishment is over. Before he formally called it to an end, he says, “I want you to figure this out. You don’t need me policing everything you do. Fix this. Do your online stuff so that it doesn’t interfere with your responsibilities around here. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,”
As emotional as this punishment was for me, I totally appreciate it. I know myself, as does Mike, that left unchecked it was clear things would have only gotten worse. While I enjoy doing those things online, my fulfillment is found in my duties and obligations to Mike and my family. While I have free time, I need to manage it better. That was only made more clear by what happened about an hour later.
I finished my morning chores and was preparing some lunch for Mike and I. After lunch I had some “me” time that I planned to use to work on the blog. I went to go boot up my laptop so it would be ready, and found it was already on. “Oh goody, let me just quickly check one thing.” Well, you know how it is. The rabbit hole of social media!! Looking at one thing became responding to one thing, which became looking at another, etc.
“What’s that smell?” I said to myself. Oh no, I left some beans on the stove. Yep, they were burned – what a smell. Mike had been outside doing stuff in the yard, and when he comes in, I had to fess up.
“I’ll make my lunch today, go to your room,” he commands.
To be honest, the thought in my head was simply, “SHIT!” I was very disappointed in myself.
I was crying from just standing in the corner. Mike eventually comes in.
He calls for me to again go over his knee. He spanks me by hand for a very long time, making sure to repeatedly and thoroughly cover every inch of my ass in redness. Again I am told to lay on the bed, this time on my back. My wrists and ankles are again shackled. He goes into our closet and comes out with the blindfold, violet wand, and a crop. The crop actually belongs to John and Donna, but I wasn’t even wondering how it go here as my mind was clearly focused elsewhere. It is the thin riding crop with a heart shaped end to it.
To make a long punishment short, while blindfolded, Mike proceeds to zap me, and zap me, and zap me. Side of one breast, then the other, one nipple, then the other, my sides, my belly, my thighs, my pussy, and even my clit. He then gets the crop and spanks my thighs and pussy harder than he has ever done so before. I have been swatted a few times here and there on my pussy, but never had a full punishment focused on it. This was, how shall I say it? It was all about the thighs and pussy.
My emotional tears became tears of pain. Not unbearable, at first, but eventually, I called yellow, then red. I don’t remember the last time I called red? I probably posted about it.
Mike calls the discipline session to a close, and tells me, “I am keeping your phone the rest of the day. If someone calls or texts, I will let you know if you can respond. I will also take your phone in the evenings when I get home from work, or I will keep it with me all day if I work from home. I will be checking your accounts, emails, and phone for any activity. I don’t want you responding to anyone or posting anything on any site or form of social media without my permission. That includes your blog. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Oh, and I want you to blog about today’s events, so you have permission to do that, but I don’t want to see you as much as comment or like or anything else without my permission.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Suffice to say, it may be a quiet week or so from me regarding posting or responding to people. He didn’t say I couldn’t, and he didn’t say he would always say no. But, I still think easing off a bit on my own will be good.
Quick reflection
I would have done this in another post, but since I don’t know when that would be, well, here it is. Odd thing was, when I admitted to Mike that I was rushing through my chores, part of me expected him to say, “Oh, darling, let me help so you can get in your me time.”
I am glad his response was to send me to the corner and discipline me. It is so clear to me where things were heading, and the burning of the beans was the icing on the cake (ew, burnt beans would not be good icing). Ha, you get the point. I was falling into an old habit. It wasn’t just perusing the internet or keeping in touch with people. I was becoming invested in helping too many people solve their problems.
Helping people is not a bad thing and that is NOT a habit I want to rid myself of – nor does Mike. It is the tendency I have to let it overtake me, consume me, hypnotize me. It’s like my own dramatic television show that I get hooked on and have to binge watch. All things in moderation! Even helping people.
My plan is to better prioritize my online activities. I don’t really like Twitter, so I have deleted that account – no more getting sucked into the Twittersphere (and no longer reacting to the latest tweet from President Twitler). Facebook? Meh, an occasional check here or there, but no need to look up every friend at once and start commenting and liking everything they post.
If friends and family want help, well, the best way that should be done is in person. I don’t need to know their every passing thought, concern, hang up, problem, etc. If they want to talk, come over for lunch or something! That leaves me my blog and my “email” friends – people I have met via my blog or other online communities that I exchange emails with. THAT will be the focus on my “me” time — that is, whenever I am not using it to just chill in front of the tv or go out and about with no particular purpose (window shopping!).
Pre-DD, this would have been left unchecked and would have resulted in conflict with Mike. Instead, it has been solved, and my resolve to not repeat this is strengthened.
When self discipline fails, domestic discipline sails! hee hee.
Domestic Discipline, Jenny style! 