This is a story, a true one, that I wrote just a few months into our Dd journey. This event occurred, in fact, just before the November 2004 elections. I found the changes, the lifestyle, the realities of living with Domestic discipline, difficult to reconcile for a long time, and one of the ways I processed that was to write stories for myself to work things through. I hope you enjoy it! Sara
Sara sat on their huge king size bed, leaning back against the headboard, as she hugged her knees. Her high heels lay discarded on the carpet in the middle of the floor. She had pulled the clip out of her brown hair, and let it fall around her shoulders. She loved this room. It was their retreat. It was beautiful and peaceful. She had designed it, when they built the addition to the house, to be their special place. It was private and quiet. As their bedroom was on the first floor, she could just hear the voices of the kids at dinner, and the low rumble of Grant’s voice coming from the kitchen. A small fire crackled in the fireplace, and as she stared at the flames tears trickled down her cheeks.
It was finally Friday night, and it had been such a long workweek. Sara ran hard, and looked forward to her weekend as a time to relax, and spend fun time with Grant and the kids. They had been married for twenty years, and after some very rocky times, they were finally at peace with each other. She loved him so much, even though, or maybe because they were so different. She was the CEO of a large corporation; responsible for over a hundred employees and many hundreds of clients. When she had stepped into this business world over six years ago, she was determined to rise to the top. Her abilities and professionalism had paid off. But the CEO had acted like a child tonight, throwing a temper tantrum, and losing her carefully guarded control. She sighed, and wondered why it was she could put on heels and a designer suit, handle outrageously pressured situations at work with calm finesse, and never ever raise her voice. At home, with Grant, she could behave like a five year old! She knew the rest of the evening would not go as she had hoped.
The city girl had married a cowboy. Now in his mid fifty’s, he only rode trail for pleasure, but he’d grown up in a small mountain town where his summer job was wrangling horses, and by the time he was sixteen, he was leading rides for the tourists through the mountains six days a week, and riding bulls in the rodeo on Saturday nights. That small town cowboy was still very much a part of him, even though Grant had eventually put himself through college, and chosen a career in the arts. When they met in New York City, the pampered Doctors’ daughter had just graduated from Vassar, and the cowboy had just blown in with fifty bucks in his pocket, determined to get his foot in the door as an artist. That was twenty-five years ago, and despite her Daddy’s objections, they’d been together ever since. He was a sweetheart of a man; sensitive and loving. He told her and showed her every day how special he thought she was. He was also bossy, headstrong, opinionated, and not apt to put up with this sort of nonsense. No doubt, she was getting spanked.
It had started innocently enough. He called her at home when he finished teaching his class and asked, “What’s up Honey? What do you want to do about dinner for the kids?” Since she usually arrived home from work by six, and the class he taught wasn’t over until six-thirty, they picked up takeout for the ever-hungry teens on Friday nights, and either joined them, or went out themselves for dinner after that. Now that the kids were older, they really tried to spend more quality time alone. It was great to be a couple again, after years of catering to three small children, focusing on careers, and then fighting all the rest of the time. Somehow, they had found each other again, and had fallen in love, again. Their new, rediscovered relationship was so precious to them both, and carefully guarded. This was why Sara was crying. She had somehow let the tensions of her week, the stress over Grant’s chest cold, and her ongoing irritations with his conservative values, get to her to the point that she had just bubbled over with temper and attitude. They had agreed that this would just simply not be part of their lives anymore. Tantrums, disrespect, and arguing, was unacceptable behavior, and now there were consequences. That reality made Sara feel mad, frustrated, immature, and safe. She knew Grant would never again let anything come between them. Not even her own temper, which was made dangerous by her sharp tongue, when riled.
She had been drawn to him from the start because he was a different kind of guy than the suave and rich eligible professionals her father would have had her settle for. She wanted a good match; a man who was not afraid of her talents, not intimidated by her strengths, and not cowed by her ability to almost always get her way. She had gotten what she asked for! As she sat on the bed pondering her dilemma she thought “Well, he can’t spank me for being a Democrat! I just don’t agree with his ideas. In fact, I hate his politics! Geesh, the man voted for George Bush, doesn’t that just say it all!”
She sighed again, and raked her long brown hair back out of her eyes. The reality was that although he was a Conservative and she considered herself a Liberal, and they did have very different views, she mostly avoided political discussions, or just kept quiet when she knew she was getting angry in the debate. Tonight, she had let her composure slip. On the ride back from the restaurant, with the Chinese take-out in her lap, she had ended up yelling, calling him “ignorant”, and then as they pulled into the driveway, stomping out of the car with her parting shot, “And, I have absolutely no respect for your politics!” She slammed the car door, and marched into the house, leaving him sitting in the car steaming. Grant was surprised and angry as he watched his Sara march away from the car into the house, and slam the back door. He sat in the car pondering for a few minutes, and then thought to himself. “Well, pal, I guess this is where the rubber meets the road. We’re overdue for a long discussion tonight, just you, me and the paddle, Sweetheart!”
He thought about his feisty wife, how concerned she had been with his being sick all last week, and how hard she worked. She really was the love of his life, and he tried to take care of her, minimize her stress, and be sensitive to her moods and feelings. She always had a warm smile for him and a sparkle in her eye whenever his gaze caught hers these days. It had not always been like that, however. There had been years of horrible battling that had nearly been the end of them. He would never let that happen again. He shook his head, and went into dinner.
The kids all came running as soon as they heard Sara bang the back door, and by the time Grant took his place at the head of the table, they were happily passing around Chinese containers, and bantering. Still miffed, Sara caught his eye with a slight scowl, and passed him a plate. The family chatter masked the silence between them. Sara went to the refrigerator to pull out some chicken salad she had prepared the night before. As she made herself a plate, she asked tersely, “Grant, do you want a sandwich?” He was still irritated, and ignored her inquiry, turning instead to talk to their son about school. She waited a beat, and then huffed, “Well, if you’re going to ignore me, I’ll just make my own then!” The children had been through years of watching their parents argue, and with three teens, it was not unusual to have some sort of dinner scene. The past few months had been different, however. As Grant and Sara had found a peace between them, the children seemed relieved. They also saw it as a challenge, however. The parents were not such easy targets when they presented a united front.
Their seventeen-year-old daughter, Jenna, watched her mother closely. While the nuances being played out by her parents were lost on her two brothers, Jenna missed nothing. She was close to her mother, but seemed to somehow need to defend her Dad when she sensed discord. “Mom, stop being such an ‘Uber-bitch’!” she said, as she tossed her blond hair, and returned to her soup. There was a moment of loud silence. It was just the last straw. Sara slammed down the serving spoon that had been in her hand, hard onto her plate on the stone counter. As she screamed, “That’s it! I’ve had it!” the plate shattered and fell onto the wood floor. There was a stunned silence as Sara stared at the shards on the floor. She ran from the room, into her bedroom, and closed the door too hard behind her, leaving the other four staring after her. She kicked off her shoes, plopped on the bed, and let the tears come. She calmed finally, and thought about what she had said, and how she had lost control. She knew her daughter had not really meant to be so mean. She was just being a mouthy, rude teenager. Sara couldn’t believe she had said those things earlier to Grant. He had just gotten her so mad! She had asked him time and again to not discuss politics with her, because he was so adamant and old fashioned in his views. He never backed down, and it just really got under her skin sometimes! Still, it was no reason to completely freak out, call him “ignorant”…She shook her head and dropped her face in her hands.
After twenty minutes of dealing with Jenna, the boys and dinner, and letting Sara and himself settle, Grant quietly entered their bedroom. He found Sara huddled on the bed, with tears in her eyes. He sat down next to her, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight to him. Sara sighed, put her head on his chest, and they sat quietly, while the fire snapped and sent their shadows across the closed bedroom curtains. Finally Grant said, “I’m sorry Sara”. Confused, she looked into his blue eyes, “Why are you sorry?” “Well, I’m just sorry. I am sorry you’re upset, and I’m sorry that I made you angry…. and I’m sorry that I’m going to have to spank you.” Sara looked at him and said nothing, but her stomach flip-flopped, as she considered the consequences. There was really no out here, that she knew. She dropped her eyes as Grant squeezed her shoulder gently. “Come on, get yourself some dinner, and we’ll go do our dance lesson. Remember, we agreed we would practice tonight?”
Sara and Grant had worked hard to repair their marriage. They committed time to each other. Sara watched football with Grant, and Grant agreed to learn country line dancing. They had purchased a few instructional DVDs, and found a country western dance bar that also offered Saturday night lessons. They practiced at least a few nights a week down in their family room, much to the amusement of their teens. After Sara changed into jeans and a sweater, she remade her dinner and ate quickly. They went down, put on the DVD, and danced for almost an hour. Sara felt awkward at first, the impending discipline niggling in the back of her mind, but she soon was able to at least focus on the steps. Soon she pushed it to the back of her thoughts, as they held hands and laughed, and ended their practice with a quick two-step around the room.
Sara looked at her watch and saw it was almost ten. “I’m going to get David into bed. He has an early practice tomorrow.” She left Grant to turn off the lights and lock up, as she kissed their thirteen-year-old son goodnight. She then went down the hall to Jenna’s room, and knocked on the door. “What do you want?” the standard reply came from behind the locked door. “It’s Mom, Jen. Open up please. I want to say goodnight!” There was a thump as Jenna got off her bed and an embarrassed look as she opened the door to her Mother. Sarah reached out to hug Jenna, saying, “It’s ok honey. I know you didn’t mean to say that, or to hurt my feelings.” “I really didn’t Mom. I’m so sorry!”, she answered. “That wasn’t nice, but it wasn’t your fault I got so upset. I was really already upset when I came into dinner. It was just the last straw.” Sarah admitted. “OK, then, because Dad was mad, and then David made me feel terrible all through dinner, saying that I made you cry!” “No, Jen, I wasn’t crying because of you, though I didn’t appreciate the language”. “I know Mom, and I am sorry.” Sara smiled at her beautiful daughter, “Goodnight, Sweety.”
Sara quietly walked down the oak staircase, trying not to let the one hundred year old floorboards squeak under her feet. She went through the center hall, dimming the lights. Grant was standing in the kitchen waiting for her, “Let’s get this over with, Sara.” She took in a large breath, holding it for just a minute. Her stomach fluttered. She silently gave a small nod, and followed him into the bedroom. Grant turned down the lights to dim, and left her standing there while he went into the bathroom to wash up.
Sara just stood there for a minute, and then sat on the very edge of the bed. She hated this part, the waiting, and the anticipation. Her stomach was doing serious flip-flops, and she suddenly had to pee. She walked past Grant into her bathroom. When she came out a minute later, he was no longer at the sink, so she stopped to brush her teeth. Having finished that, there was really nothing pressing and stalling would only make things worse.
She took her self back into the bedroom to find Grant sitting on the ottoman near the fireplace, paddle in hand. “Get undressed,” he ordered. “Undressed?” she squeaked. “Sara, just do it!” he stated firmly. This was so difficult for her, finding the right mindset to obey. No arguing or negotiating, just acceptance. She knew she totally deserved to be punished. She and Grant had incorporated a different kind of lifestyle into their marriage several months ago, called domestic discipline. They agreed on some basic rules to live by, and that there would be spankings for breaking the rules. At home at least, Grant would be the final authority, the head of their household. It was a very benign dictatorship, as his focus was always on loving Sara, keeping her happy and safe. They always discussed important issues, and he many times was swayed by her point of view, and agreed with her ideas. The final call was his, however, and when they couldn’t agree, he put his foot down. Sara had agreed to this lifestyle; had in fact asked for it herself. While Grant was a rather dominant personality, she was also headstrong, and had a hard time not being in control of her world, which certainly included him. It had not been a good way for them to work out their marriage, and the power struggles led to ongoing battles, which sometimes lasted days. Letting go of this control was so hard for Sara, but it also came with the relief of handing over many responsibilities to Grant, as well. Sara had carried huge responsibilities on her shoulders all through her childhood, and into her adult life. Her ability to do so was both a strength and weakness. These qualities allowed her to rise quickly in her professional world, where she now answered to no one. Her need and ability to keep the reigns also exhausted her, to the point where she would eventually fall apart from time to time. She just couldn’t function in first gear all the time, and learning to let Grant take over allowed her a balance, and a sanity, that she truly needed. She had also never really had anyone set boundaries for her before, either. It somehow made her feel safe, and loved.
She pulled her sweater off over her head, and unzipped her jeans. She pushed the jeans down off her hips and pulled them off, leaving both in a pile on the floor by the foot of the bed. Sara turned to look at Grant. She was wearing a black cotton camisole over the matching panties, which were black lace-edged ‘tap pants’. She looked at him, and wondered if he wanted her to strip further, but he patted his thigh, and said, “Come over here.” Sara walked over to him, took the hand he offered, and laid herself across his lap. He shifted her forward, so that her head was almost on the floor and her bottom in position across his knees. She had to put her hands on the floor to keep from falling forward, as he circled her waist with his left arm and pulled her tight to him.
She hated this over the knee position when he sat on the ottoman. Usually he spanked her over his lap, but on the bed, where her upper body was supported. Her position felt so precarious and this made her feel especially vulnerable, which she supposed was the point. Grant only took her over his knee here, when he meant to impart a serious message. “Sara, you know why you are being spanked, don’t you?” “Yes”, she answered softly. He proceeded to discuss her behavior, pointed out that she had thrown a tantrum, yelled at him, and set a very bad example for the children. As she studied the carpet, she wondered, again, why a well educated professional woman was allowing herself to be spanked, felt how embarrassing it was to have him talking to her backside, while he lectured, rubbed and patted, and tried to answer his questions at the appropriate times, so he would feel she was paying attention! She knew she had only herself to blame, and already felt very badly for her misbehaviors. Grant almost always started spanking with his hand, so Sarah was taken by surprise when she felt the paddle smack hard into her right cheek. As Grant paddled her hard and fast, he continued lecturing, but Sara was soon unable to even make out his words, as the burning smacks on her bottom became her only reality. She didn’t always cry when he spanked, but due to her remorse, and the fierceness of this paddling, she was in tears almost immediately. She began begging for him to stop, “Grant, please! Stop, it’s enough. You’re hurting me! Please…stop, the kids will hear!” “This is a spanking. It’s supposed to hurt!” he responded with the age-old retort.
Sara’s whole bottom was burning fiercely, and she began to struggle as she cried. She reached her right hand back, trying to cover his target, and he swiftly grasped her hand, holding it to the small of her back. The spanking continued, the only noise, her pleading, and the sound of the paddle falling. Grant saw that she was reaching hysteria, and stopped as quickly as he started. He held her over his lap, and rubbed her back, crooning “Shhh, Honey, it’s ok. Calm down now. It’s ok.” Sara’s cries subsided, as her tears silently now, watered the carpet.
Grant started speaking to her again, “You do know that when you say ‘you don’t respect my politics’ you are really saying you don’t respect me?” He waited. She hated talking upside down, and while she would agree to anything while being spanked, now that he’d stopped, she disagreed. “No, Grant, I really wasn’t saying I disrespect you! I just don’t agree with your politics!” “Honey, you were definitely telling me that you were not respecting me!” he answered as he lowered her panties off her hips and pushed them down to her thighs. “You understand that I can not allow that, right?” “Yes, Grant”, she admitted, as he raised the paddle high again. Her bottom was already radiating heat, a dark pink from the top of her cheeks to the start of her thighs, but he felt he really needed to “take her in hand”, and he intended to do the job well. As the paddle cracked down hard over and over again, on her already well-warmed bottom, Sarah was quickly sobbing. She honestly didn’t know if she could handle the pain, and now struggled within herself to take her spanking, to lie submissively over his lap as he turned her burning bottom from dark pink to hot red. Her tears flowed, and her pleas continued, but the struggling had stopped, and Grant knew he was done. With a final two smacks to each sit spot, he let the paddle drop softly to the carpet, and rubbed her back with his right hand. She still held on tight to his left hand, her arm behind her back, drawing comfort from his steady firm grip. He spoke quietly to her as she calmed, and the tears slowed. Finally she asked, “Can I get up yet?” “Yes, Honey”, he murmured.
She slipped off his lap onto her knees, and continued crying softly. Grant wrapped his arms around Sarah and held her. She was uncomfortable holding her burning bottom off the floor, and she was so tired. “I want to get into bed, please,” she said, now feeling completely submissive. Grant helped her up and she moved over to the bed and crawled on top of the covers, laying face down. Grant stretched out next to her, stroking her back, rubbing her shoulders, just letting her cry. As he took in her scalded and swollen bottom, he felt bad that he had hurt her, guilty that he had neglected dealing with her earlier in the week, when this ‘bad girl’ spanking might have been headed off by a ‘stress buster’, and aroused by her body, and her submission. “Do you need anything, sweetheart?” “I need a Kleenex” she sniffed. As he handed it to her, she laid her head back on the pillow, turning her face away from him. He couldn’t help from touching her as he asked, “Are you mad? It’s ok if you’re still mad, you know.” She shook her head, “No, I’m not mad, I’m sad!” she whispered. He held her close, and said, “Don’t be sad, Honey! It’s ok now. It’s all over. Let it go!” She turned into his arms and let his love wash into her heart.