R/L: Asking to Be Punished

A more vulnerable post, let’s see how it goes. This is from pre-Vegas because I am still unsure about sharing those posts – but they’re written.

There is room in my kink for real-life punishment. It’s rare (feeling necessary perhaps a few times per year, at the most) but it’s there. My husband and I don’t have a “typical” (heavy on the air quotes there on typical) domestic discipline relationship because we don’t use spanking as a part of our relationship in the way most people think of when they think of DD. There are no rules or expectations in our relationship or house that when fallen short of, result in a spanking. There is no formal kink dynamic here. The times punishment feels necessary or helpful, usually it comes from me. It’s something I feel I’ve fallen short of, an expectation of or for myself, or a mistake/behavior I can’t move past and because of the role of spanking in my life – it helps. Spanking is how I access vulnerable parts of me; it can be one way to access and let go of some Big Feelings, and that’s how it’s used in these moments. I can give the moment over to this kind of discipline and move past it.

One of these instances happened recently. I love my job and I think I’m fairly good at it. I don’t have any specific training that makes me particularly qualified but I work in an industry where learning on the job is common and wearing many hats is the norm. I do operations, so it covers a lot of tasks and departments. I tend to really enjoy how varied it can be, especially since no two days are alike. I have some standard monthly to-do’s and the rest is as-it-comes. Recently, my boss asked me to take care of a task that is well within my wheelhouse and a typical thing for me to take care of. It was also quick, so I set about doing it right away. I didn’t even write it down because I planned to do it in the moment. This was my downfall. I have to write everything down, interact with the information, see it. I ran into a road block and I wasn’t able to confirm something with her, and because I didn’t write the task down, I forgot about it.

A few weeks later, she checked in with me from her own list, to confirm it had been taken care of. I said of course, yeah, I did it right away. I logged into our system and the series of events came crashing back to me. This was a task with a deadline and there were still 2 days left in which to salvage the situation. I apologized, explained what happened, and fixed it right then, on the spot. I continued to follow-up and track the resolution to make sure it was complete on-time.

It was.

I got lucky. I am not sure what would have happened had we missed this deadline, but there could have been legal ramifications, so I am grateful it was fixable. I fixed it, I apologized, I identified the issue. Open and shut, right? No fall-out at work, nothing negative happened, but I couldn’t move past it. I was so mad at myself, so disappointed for not following my routine and making a mistake because of it. I was wary about approaching Daniel about it because I know discipline is difficult for him, even when it comes from me. It’s not his natural inclination with spanking. I hesitated, but texted him about how I was feeling and floated an idea of what might help me move past it. It was a little rocky but we got there in the end. He pointed out, “If you need a punishment spanking, the only way it’s going to happen is if you ask, but you have to give me a chance.” Eep. That’s fair.

When we got home, he sent me to my office.

I was – unfortunately for me – wearing a dress and entirely-too-thin seamless panties instead of the normal cotton ones I typically wear. When he came in, he picked up my ebony hairbrush from my desk and sat on the edge of the bed. I was struck with the sudden realization that he was holding the brush because he intended to use it. He almost never reaches for the ebony brush because of how quickly it marks (he finds he can be just as effective with the MP brush, with how much it stings, but because it’s lightweight plastic, it doesn’t bruise as quickly which is more in his comfort zone). I was nervous. Did I really want this? I couldn’t exactly back out at this point – I had asked for this and given control over to him. I did want it. Short of an emergency, I was going to be punished. Dealt with. So I could move on.

He sat on the edge of the guest bed and motioned me over his lap, where he positioned me so my feet were off the floor. Usually they start outstretched and touching the floor. My stomach turned. I squirmed and he held me around the waist. I buried my face in a pillow. He lifted my dress but left my panties up – it wouldn’t have mattered, they were so thin, they didn’t help at all – but the ritual of taking them down to add a layer to the experience, was important. It is possible he used his hand first, but I don’t think he did. My memory is that he started cold with the hairbrush and I immediately protested. Unsurprisingly. Ebony hairbrushes are dense. The wood stings and their heft seems to go right through to my core. They hurt a lot and right away. I recall being caught a bit off guard by how hard he was using it, as he scolded me. I don’t remember what he said but it was something along the lines of paying closer attention to my work, not beating myself up (ha ha) over mistakes, that I am good at my job, etc.

I was feeling the brush rather acutely by the time he took my panties down, so my worst spanking habit kicked in here and I reached back in a futile attempt to stop him. That got my hand pinned and my panties taken down anyway. Because my husband doesn’t use the hairbrush often and it’s not his preference, I was shocked by how hard he was using it (in reality, it wasn’t as hard as it could have been, but cold and the headspace was right). I could feel the bruises beginning to form and he was spanking me everywhere. My sit spots were not spared and as I started to struggle against having my wrist held, and sniffle, he smacked my thighs. I squealed and kicked aggressively, which only got my legs pinned as well.

He finished with the brush with a flourish of hard and fast smacks all in the same spot on each cheek, that had me nearly in tears. He sent me to the corner sniffling, with my panties at my ankles and my dress lifted in the back. This was but a brief interlude. He moved the bedding around for more space and told me to lay down and took his belt off. The belt is definitely more his preference and comfort level, but I knew it would sting on a well-hairbrushed bottom and I doubted he planned to use it lightly. The hairbrush almost always feels like chastisement to me, so I was already deeply in that headspace, but the belt has a way of truly subduing me. It just feels so domestic and everyday. He strapped me with it, fairly hard, for a few minutes while I squirmed and dug my feet into the bed, and squealed.

He paused, just to pick up the hairbrush, and gave me a quick flurry of additional smacks that included my sit spots and thighs and pushed me over the edge. There was much holding and reassuring when it was all over, and I felt lighter and calmer. I finally let go of my perceived failure and was able to move past the mistake I’d made. He took my panties away for the rest of the day and I finished my work sitting on a very sore bottom. I had vivid bruises for days, including on my sit spots and in the tender spots on the underside of my bottom and along the inside.

Although I appreciate and certainly benefit from the external structure of discipline – and uniform discipline specifically – things like punishment, need to come from me, internally, for a lot of reasons. One of them is that I am actually a functioning adult and although I am not perfect, expecting another adult – especially the person I have to do life with – to manage my life in addition to his own and all the things that go into maintaining a home and life together, wouldn’t be fair. Neither of us wants our kink to be used to manage these things. It would feel forced for us and he specifically has only a passing interest in discipline so it simply wouldn’t work. We have to be equitable partners in our marriage and work within that framework, first and foremost. If we can make it work like this, within that? That’s the most you can hope for – to at least try.

Many years ago, before I met my husband, I had a dynamic with a trusted play partner, who helped hold me accountable to goals I set for myself while I was in school. It was deep and meaningful and he was fully invested in my success – not just showing up to beat me occasionally. I also experienced feeling punished in a completely different context more recently and that took a bit more processing for me because I didn’t bring it up, as in this situation or past ones. It was a moment where someone saw me, saw something in me, and facilitated confronting it and held me accountable to high standards.

So, there you have it! It does happen and I’m all the better for it.

-M