Think! Think! Think!

That's what Pooh Bear says to Eeyore when he's trying to work through a problem.
                                                                 

That's what I've been doing lately, thinking through a problem. It's not a bad problem. It's a problem many might even want.

It's my granddaughter. She's a beautiful little thing and I love her dearly. The problem is that along with her living with me, so does her Mommy and Daddy. My son also lives here and while his girlfriend doesn't technically live here, she's here most of the time, so she might as well live here.

That is the problem. Less than a year ago, it was just Musicman and myself and our one old dog living here. Privacy was not an issue and kinky activities were on the menu almost daily. Now, with the addition of 5 other people and 2 more dogs, privacy is a huge issue.

I've accepted that fact, but I am on a quest to not lose what we had. I admit, there was a period of time, before my little RJ was born, that I resented not having my privacy. One look at that sweet little babe, one sniff of that newborn smell and I was hooked. I'm quite happy she is here. I'm not so thrilled about her Daddy being here 24/7, but he's earning brownie points by taking really great care of her and her Mommy.

So, I'm on a quest to find other quieter ways for the kink to continue. Do I still have a huge need and desire for the spankings? Oh yeah, but those are only going to happen in those rare stolen moments when the house is empty. Weeks could go by before that happens. That's just not enough for me.

That's why I'm thinking, thinking, thinking. I know if I could identify and offer a few choices to Musicman of what might work for me, he would follow through. He's really a champ at that kind of thing.

We spend most evenings together, in our master bedroom, it's a really nice place, set up for our maximum comfort. I could spend time kneeling. In my mind, that would work. In reality, I'm a middle age lady with major orthopedic issues. Kneeling at his feet might get me into the headspace I long for, but the after effects, of bad pain, would impact my daily life in an extremely negative way.

I could learn to sext, maybe he would even learn to give me directions or assignments on what he wants from me. That might work, 'cept we are dinosaurs and don't have cell phones. I know, that sounds impossible, but it's the stone cold truth, my Musicman is a dinosaur.

He could direct me to wear a butt plug a certain amount of time each day. I've read many blogs where the sub has been directed to do that. It seems to be quite effective too. The problem is, I don't own one. I've thought about getting one for quite some time now. I even did a post asking for input on what to get. The resounding impact of that post was, not to get one over the internet, but to go to an actual store and get one. I've yet to get Musicman to agree to do that.

We do have nipple clamps, but they haven't been used much. There is a very simple reason for that. Musicman has extremely strong hands and the feel of him twisting or pinching is much more appealing and effective than any clamp seems to deliver. They did come with a clit clamp, but we've yet to actually try that. Hmmm....maybe that needs to be explored a bit more.

I don't have any answers yet, but I will continue to think, think, think. I'm quite determined to figure out how to be a Grandma, with a brood of people living in my home and still indulge my kinky side. I'm just not willing to let it go. Of course, if the opportunity arises that we have empty home, we will take it and indulge in a proper spanking.

Wood or Leather

Wood or leather? Wood or leather? That is what he was contemplating aloud last night as he held one of each type paddle in his hands. I knew it wasn't a question directed at me, so I said nothing. He had already removed the silky little shorts I had been wearing and I laid on  the bed waiting for him to decide.

He finally made a decision, it would be both. It took me no more than the blink of an eye to get in position. Ahhh, the sigh of contentment escaped the second the first swat of the leather paddle connected. It didn't take long for my backside to feel as if it was glowing. He seemed to enjoy the running commentary he was providing as he went about it too.

"How about a stripe here?" Or, "Oh, look, it says bitch there, maybe we should make it say bitch here too." And finally, " your ass is pretty red, that seems like a good enough warm up."

He paused a moment to check the nether regions, inquiring as he probed my folds, if I was wet. I was, which pleased him greatly. I didn't even have time to catch my breath before he took the magic paddle in hand and returned his attention to my now nicely warmed backside.

Oh, the first sting of the wood side made me about leap off the bed. However, that did not deter him from his task at hand. He would alternate between the sting of the wood side and the thud of the suede side of the paddle, occasionally rubbing in between.

I was soon reduced to a panting pile of mush. I was in that wonderful place where I would willingly do whatever he wanted of me. Turns out what he wanted to do was ring every last orgasm from my body and then push for more.

Time did not exist as my body reacted to his ministrations. My body contorted, twisting and turning in a vain effort to get closer to the source of the pleasure, him. I was a quivering, mewling mess, begging him to stop while simultaneously begging for more.

There comes a point when he builds me to fever pitch, that nothing but him inside me will quench the fire. I was definitely at that point and begging him to fuck me was the only thing I could do.

With nights like that, it's no wonder I miss my empty house.

How to Wear Stripes

The fashion guru's say that stripes aren't flattering. I've never been one to follow fashion, but I beg to differ on this one. There is definitely something to be said for the stripes I wear.

They are the stripes that come from the kiss of leather on flesh. The pretty pink lines are so appealing as I check the mirror. I twist and turn, trying to see all the evidence of a few stolen moments.

I have no concrete idea why the pain that lingers as I shower in the morning, makes me feel happy, but it does. I check and see the minute bruises that mark me. They make me smile, they make me happy. I could wonder how I became so distorted, but I don't.

I just know that what I got, was what I needed. I know I will need it again soon, too.

Life right now may be out of my control. I may need to submit and freely give, according to someone else's schedule. Not a picture I'm pleased with, because it's not his schedule either, but I'm learning to work with it. It benefits me in the end. That's something I need reminded of often.

Tomorrow life will change for us again. This will be the third major life change I've experienced in as many months. No wonder I embrace the pain and the escape it provides, that come along with the stripes I've learned to love so much.

The change that is going to happen tomorrow will make privacy even more scarce. It will require even more of my time and energy being expended on things other than what I might willingly choose to expend them on. Unfortunately, there isn't much I can do about that right now.

This change will make taking advantage of the few stolen moments available even more important for Musicman and myself. With that in mind and the need to start moving forward in my life again, I have started doing the subtle little things that help me maintain that submissive head space I crave.

It may be awhile before I see my beloved stripes again.  It may be awhile before I feel the kiss of the leather or the thud of the paddle again. Those stripes will be welcomed when the opportunity to wear them presents itself again. Until that time comes, I will be busy caring for and loving my brand new granddaughter who will make her entrance into this world tomorrow.

 I'm very sure Musicman is up to the challenge of spanking Grandma, though I'm still gonna spoil her. That's what Grandma's are for aren't they?

Oh Sweet Lorraine

This couple was together for 75 years. At age 93, he lost her, in his grief, he wrote this for her. I pray every day that I die the day before Musicman, because I don't want to live a day without him. If that doesn't happen, this kind of love would be a very close second for me.

Baby Steps Count

I believe the first step to correcting a problem is acknowledging the problem. Ya can't fix what ya can't accept. Of course, acknowledging and accepting, do not automatically mean things are fixed. No, there is definitely more work involved.

Once the problem is identified, an answer must be sought. Once the answer is found, I must be able to articulate the help I need to take the forward steps required. I'm not finding that so easy, it's just so much easier to hide.



Yes, I admit that I have been building walls. And, he's been letting me.

Yes, I did kinda tell him that he needed to back off some. I may have even mentioned a time or two that this wasn't about him. Well, it wasn't. I needed some time and space to be with my family. I knew I only had a limited time with my brother's immediate family before having to go back to my own home and my own life, I needed to be with them for as long as I possibly could be.

I also admit that once I did get back home, I actively shut him out. I did not necessarily want his comfort those first few weeks. I just wanted to be left alone. I wanted to wallow for awhile in the pain and despair that I was feeling. I did not want life to go on as normal.

I guess I got what I asked for, cause he is definitely letting me build walls. D/s as we knew it, has pretty much ceased to exist. Yes, part of the problem is the fact that we have no privacy. But D/s was never just about the spanking.

We never had hard and fast rules, but there were things that I did just to make him happy. Such as shaving the lady parts, such a pain to do, but he always liked it. Or, wearing dresses sans panties. Okay, so that I liked, but I started doing it way back when for him, and he used to appreciate it.

That all seems to be gone now. I don't shave, he doesn't seem to notice. I don't wear a dress or skirt and do wear undies, he says nothing. There are no fly by swatting's occurring, no groping as I walk by. About the most we seem to be able to manage is holding hands in the evening while we watch TV. Yes, it's sweet and comforting, but I'm so past sweet and comforting now.

Let's not even talk about the lack of blowjobs. I do believe I am in jeopardy of losing my membership to the cock worshipping sub club. I can very honestly say that in the time since we've returned home, I can count on one hand the number of times I've given him one and have the majority of my fingers left. Not good. He suggested I give him one a few weeks ago. I wasn't in the mood so I ignored his suggestion. He did nothing about that either.

I know he is not going to force me to do these things. That's just not who he is. That of course means it is up to me to fix this situation. I'm trying, but it's not going as well as I would like. It's just so easy to expend all my energy at work and taking care of the home and the kids and everything else.

I'm not gonna give up, I'll keep trying to get back what I pushed away. Maybe, just maybe he will be willing to meet me half way. A girl can hope, right?

Reshaping Normal

I've experienced enough life changes to know that normal never returns. I know it takes time, that normal reshapes itself into what we have now.

It hasn't been enough time for me, just a month since my brother's passing. I struggle every day to deal with that. There is something else I continue to struggle with also. Something, that I do realize, is preventing me some what, from accepting the new normal. Something that continues to prevent me from being "his little faerie".

That something is, survivor's guilt. Not guilt that my brother passed and I'm still here, I know my brother wouldn't want that for me. No, my guilt is centered around my Sister-in-law. She is so much more to me than just the woman my brother married. She is one of my very best friends, the sister I always yearned for.

In many ways, especially in our relationships with our husbands, we are much the same. She is the only woman, in my real life, that I could talk openly and honestly with, about my relationship with Musicman, without having to censor myself. She always understood, because her relationship with my brother was much the same as ours. Musicman and my brother are much the same when it comes to their personalities and the things in life they find important. My surviving brother even commented on this similarity recently to Musicman.

The first 2 nights after my brother's passing, before Musicman arrived, the little bit of sleep I got was in a pullout bed, with my sister-in-law. We spent those hours talking about the fact that she is only in her mid 40's, younger than me, and now a widow. She talked a lot about the things my brother told her during his illness, about their lack of  a physical relationship. He regretted that he was too ill to have one with her any longer, he wanted her to find someone else. She can't fathom that, I totally understand.

Her pain from losing him is palpable. I didn't then and still don't now know what to say to comfort her. I can't even imagine what she is going through. Those nights, I just held her hand and let her talk, until exhaustion finally gave her a few hours of relief, in the form of sleep. I was there for her when she woke up in a panic because she thought he needed her. During the entire 7 months of his illness she never once left his side. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

I can't seem to get those memories out of my head. They are definitely affecting the way I interact with Musicman and I don't know how to fix it. I know, with time, it will get better, but I want it all to be better now.

I feel like a china doll, suspended in time, one second before she hits the floor and shatters. The slightest breeze is to be feared, for the potential damage it could do.

Finally...An Empty House

Saturday dawned bright and beautiful, with butterflies the size of bats in my belly. Though, the lingering soreness from the previous night's conversation made me smile.

I was afraid. Afraid to get my hopes up. Afraid that if I did, some one's plans would change and we wouldn't have the alone time I was so desperately looking forward too. Afraid that the plans wouldn't change and what I thought I wanted, what I thought I needed, wasn't actually what I wanted or needed.

It had been so long, what if it didn't work? What if it was just painful and that was it? What if, for some unknown reason, I was no longer "into" this whole D/s lifestyle? It has been so long, it seemed now to belong to someone else, in some other life time. So many what ifs, they made my head spin.

As the day went on many thoughts spun through my head. Maybe I should go buy some new lingerie, or new bed sheets. Maybe I should have gone and gotten my hair trimmed, as I've been saying I needed to do for a couple weeks now. Was it too late to wax? In a panic, I realized I was out of shaving cream, now what? I seriously felt like a teenager going on her first date, ever. So silly, I know, but that's me.

Musicman didn't seem to be suffering any nerves at all. I suppose it's different for the one on the other side of the paddle. Or, possibly, it's because he's not a silly woman like me. We settled in and watched a movie while the kids got their plans in motion. Eventually, the house was empty and we had a nice quiet dinner together. By that point, I think I was just looking for reasons to delay, due to all the doubts swirling through my head.

I can't honestly say I felt relief when he directed me to get into position on the couch in our room, but I must have, cause I was in position in a flash. The silky pajama pants I was wearing did nothing to prevent me feeling the full force of the paddle when it started to fall. He rarely does much of a warm up and I rarely ever get spanked over clothes of any kind. Within just a few swats he stopped to divest me of the pajama pants and then went right back to wielding that paddle.

It didn't take very long before IT happened. I started to cry. I've never cried during a spanking before, nor have I ever had a desire to be spanked to tears. It wasn't the pain that caused me to cry, it was just all the bottled up stress and emotions that had built up over the last couple months bubbling to the surface.

Thank goodness he understood what was going on and did not stop. Instead, in between swats, he rubbed my back and whispered soothing things to me. He checked in with me often to see if I was okay and despite the fact that I was sobbing, I wanted him to continue and he did, until I finally collapsed into a heap on the edge of the couch.

He stayed near and soothed me until the tears were all gone. I felt so much better and with my backside on fire we moved on to more sexy activities. I even found the nerve a bit later in the evening to tell him I wanted a bit more, with the leather strap please.

Yes, he obliged that request.