It's a head spinning realization when you realize your husband has settled in just fine to that Head of Household role that you'd hoped for but couldn't truly understand back when ttwd was new. In the beginning, a spanking might be milder or not given at all based on any number of things. Perhaps he understood why I had gotten so angry and knew he hadn't been without fault, so a punishment wouldn't be given.
Then one day you wake up and find argumentative words keep flying out of your mouth. Despite his glare, I kept up on going. My mouth finally closed when my brain's danger signs finally caught up to my mouth.
Damage done. Did Dominic understand why I was mad? Yes. Was he frustrated about the situation like I was? Yes.
But the violations were there. I'd yelled, been disrespectful, ignored his warnings and attempts to de-escalate my anger. And the final nail in my coffin: I'd put on this performance in front of our kids.
Our day went on and I was good as gold. A small part of me briefly entertained maybe it wouldn't be that bad, since the day was fine except for the morning's blip.
But it was "that bad."
Because my HOH had listened when I told him letting me off the hook was confusing, that a spanking that wasn't a struggle to submit to made me feel unsettled. He'd watched how I behaved after punishments. So I got a punishment I didn't like one single bit. There was no mistaking it for maintenance, stress-relief, or foreplay. I didn't feel sexy at all.
Because my HOH had listened when I told him letting me off the hook was confusing, that a spanking that wasn't a struggle to submit to made me feel unsettled. He'd watched how I behaved after punishments. So I got a punishment I didn't like one single bit. There was no mistaking it for maintenance, stress-relief, or foreplay. I didn't feel sexy at all.
With time and practice, Dominic learned an effective spanking isn't measured solely by redness, but by my post-spanking attitude. To get me curled up in his lap after, my brain no longer spinning or obsessing about what went wrong requires a pretty intense experience. So the man who was once hesitant to move beyond playful spanking, ordered me to the couch furthest from the kids bedrooms.
I hate the pain of the paddle. I really hate it. There's no element of erotic spanking. The big wooden paddle is just pain. Positioning myself to receive that pain does something good to my brain though. I know I will hurt. I know it's not going to end until he's ready. I know there's not a chance I can shut out the emotional and physical feeling, no numb brave front is possible. I just feel.
I am very intentional about not acting on my feelings professionally. That is hard to turn off when I get home.
No fussing or cajoling will change what he's decided to do. But I feel overwhelmed by a feeling of being his. No one is going to give me a stressful work assignment, the kids won't have a crisis or spill an entire Tupperware bowl of soup on the floor. The only thing going I'm aware of in the entire world is that I belong with my husband. Something went awry and he is making everything right again. Of course once the spanking begins, my introspective thoughts go AWOL. The paddle is all I'm aware of. When he pauses between sets, I might be aware of him holding my hand, his knee holding me up, or how cold the rest of my body is versus my flaming backside. But those are fleeting thoughts. The paddle starts back up again. He asks me questions I can't quite comprehend, he reaffirms his expectations for my behavior. I'm too muddled to think through these things, so I keep replying "Yes Sir."
I am very intentional about not acting on my feelings professionally. That is hard to turn off when I get home.
No fussing or cajoling will change what he's decided to do. But I feel overwhelmed by a feeling of being his. No one is going to give me a stressful work assignment, the kids won't have a crisis or spill an entire Tupperware bowl of soup on the floor. The only thing going I'm aware of in the entire world is that I belong with my husband. Something went awry and he is making everything right again. Of course once the spanking begins, my introspective thoughts go AWOL. The paddle is all I'm aware of. When he pauses between sets, I might be aware of him holding my hand, his knee holding me up, or how cold the rest of my body is versus my flaming backside. But those are fleeting thoughts. The paddle starts back up again. He asks me questions I can't quite comprehend, he reaffirms his expectations for my behavior. I'm too muddled to think through these things, so I keep replying "Yes Sir."
A particularly hard spot lands and I jump a bit. He pats my head and tells me we've got more to go. Eventually it ends. I'm somehow supposed to stand up and walk upstairs!? But I do, I'm not thinking at all anymore. While I'm aware of the screaming muscles in my thighs and butt, I'm mainly aware that I've been told to walk so I'm walking.
Post-spanking sleep is some of the best sleep I get. I may wake up when I accidentally roll from my stomach, but the sleep is deep. When I wake up the next morning and cringe at the soreness, I remember mornings I woke up not feeling a thing and still unsettled. I don't have that after his punishments now. I can't have him close enough to me. If life allowed, I'd curl up in his lap all day. I don't want to be paddled ever again, but remembering my trip across his lap makes me smile. When that wretched paddle is involved, the next day's ache is non-stop. And that man gloats and grins at my every wince or gasp at sitting. Even laying on my stomach, I'm aware of the ache.
But I am on point, no sass from me. I start to question him later that evening and stop before the words are out of my mouth. Hell. No. I am not going anywhere a spanking.
In the early days of ttwd, I was in awe of the spankings I'd read about in blogland or ebooks. Spankings that seemed so emotionally impactful, your spankers seemed matter of fact and confident in doling out a no-nonsense whopper. We've now paid the toll of trial and error to learn what all makes a punishment effective for us. While you can know something's worked for others, the exact cocktail of factors that make a spanking effective is unique to every couple.
My husband confidently paddles because he knows first hand the value of discipline in our marriage. Dominic spanking because he knows I need it AND needs it because we are both better when in our roles is a blissful* feeling.
(*Dominic actually spanking me is not blissful. It. Hurts. A. Lot.)
We had many conversations as we explored this dynamic where I tried to explain how I felt when an infraction may have been a grey area and I wasn't made to answer for myself. With time, he saw it for himself: making rules he didn't enforce left me feeling neglected and crazy. Letting things slide was not him being a nice guy. I crave structure and knowing I don't have to bear the mental load of parenthood and life by myself. And here we are, The Boss fully confident in zero tolerance as the rule is the warning. No room for a 3 strike policy in ttwd; this is not baseball.
Upside to the awful pain of my husband being strict and bossy? I cannot get enough of him! 🔥
I wish my new to ttwd self would have enjoyed those early days while they lasted. Because we'd soon enough hit a season where I might not sit comfortably for a week straight! We gained insight from others blogs, but this thing only works for you when you figure out what your relationship needs. And like all good things, time and effort is the only way to figure that out. I pushed Dominic for "more" when we started this, but couldn't articulate what that meant for quite some time.
We've gotten there now, for better or worse. 😬
We've gotten there now, for better or worse. 😬
