The side of my life that grows and changes with my interests and discoveries pertaining to the D/d and D/s world, with respect to my spiritual convictions/sensibilites. (This page is best viewed in Mozilla Firefox)

Found this over at Bonnie's and just had to try it myself!

Well, SeaRabbit tagged me the other now that I finally have time, I'll go ahead and try my hand at this. =)

The game is that you write a D/s, kinky or sexy haiku... write one, write a dozen... it's up to you...

What is a haiku you ask?
It is verse form having three lines of five, seven, and five syllables...


Your gaze, powerful
And your grip equally strong;

Yes, this is my place.

Under your control

I am totally complete;
For I am Your slave.

You hurt me, love me,

Do just whatever you please;

That is what I need -

To be at your feet,

These humbled, submissive eyes;

The whole of me yours.


OK, it's not a masterpiece - but it works. ;) Now, who will I tag? How about: Lenora, Caia, and SNN. (Just for fun, no obligations).

I think that if love at first site is real, Rico and I had an almost-love-at-first site experience. Maybe because his parents had been bragging to both of us about each other (yes, trying to set us up) for the past six months, maybe because we were both immediately attracted physically, or maybe it was just fate... but either way, we definitely hit it off.

While I had been raised in church and lived a sheltered life, Rico had grown up the exact opposite. His parents were drug addicts who'd abandoned him during middle school through the first two years of highschool, which, in turn, left him to raise his younger brother and learn about life on his own. Living with his friends for the most part, he partied, got high, and lived it up to push reality from his mind.
Then, his parents suddenly did a complete 180. Not only did they get their lives straight, but they started to live for Jesus - for real. It took a long time for Rico to believe it wasn't just another game, but eventually he decided to give life with them, and actually having a family, a shot. It started with a picture of me; he wanted to meet me. That led to him having to meet my family and our church.

After meeting me, and seeing that there was an alternative to the craziness he grew up around, he made a heart-change as well. I wasn't sure how real it was at first, but that didn't stop me falling face first in love with him. I didn't think it was possible after what all had happened. In fact, as far as I knew, I was turned off to guys completely.

But then he kissed me on the stairwell. Whoa. Is THAT what a kiss is supposed to be like? It was soft, gentle, sweet, and I didn't have saliva dripping down my chin afterwards! I was so shocked that I just stood there and stared at him. I didn't kiss him back, I didn't even move. He smiled, I couldn't help but grin stupidedly back at him, and then he ran up the stairs before someone walked up on us.

I can't even begin to explain to you the chaos of emotions the whole situation elicited inside me. I felt STUPID. There was no way on God's green earth I was about to let it happen again... just no way. Yet, there I was, grinning like a retard-on-crack [I don't mean anything by that] over a kiss. *sighs*

And so, I fell for him. One month after I met him, I found myself crouching in front of him with my hands in his, expressing the crazy emotions I was feeling. He sat there and stared directly into my eyes. There was something in those eyes that was different. It wasn't fake. It wasn't cold. It was genuine.

"I've never felt this way before..." I whispered, my eyes on the floor.
"Me neither."

So simple, yet so utterly true.

Before Rico entered my life, I truly hadn't realized just how depressed and out of it I was. We helped each other in so many ways... while he was finding Jesus for the first time, I was re-finding Him myself. Despite our vastly different backgrounds, the root problems we each had to deal with led us to cling to one another even more. Clinging so exclusively that I believe we skipped over the stereotypical beginning relationship problems people have to deal with. We had to fast forward straight to the core - the things that truly mattered.

It didn't take long for the effects of my previous troubles to start showing up. There were the little things, like not knowing how to kiss. But then there were the big things, like not knowing how to communicate worth a dime, getting panicky when he showed even the remotest signs of displeasure, pulling away from physical touch (even tight hugs), and not trusting him at all. The effects still haunt me. I just recently got past comparing him to my dad, and we've been together for over two years.

But I am so blessed because after only a year and a half, we were to a place in our relationship where I was able to tell him anything. Because of the way I was when we met, it was vital that everything be out on the table from the start. I needed to know I could trust him, and he needed to know that he could trust me. While I was dealing with having been [ab]used, he was dealing with insecurities as well. He'd never been in a serious (longer than 1 month) relationship before me, and it took a lot for him to put his whole heart into it without fearing it'd be ripped away or abandoned.

That actually worked out for the better in the long run, however, because it built a thick foundation of trust in our relationship. After a year and a half, I finally revealed the last bits and pieces about me that he didn't know... My desires for spanking and D/d. Not only did he accept it, but he loved it. Slowly we worked everything out to fit us.

With the help of that phone line I mentioned, I re-entered the spanko world and discovered D/s. Submission... that wasn't a word I liked a whole lot. Speaking of, did I mention my dad made me write an essay on submission when I was twelve? You don't want to know. So, at first, I was appalled by the idea and just skimmed through the sites. I wanted nothing to do with that... I liked the idea of having boundaries, spankings, and a strong man when I wanted one... but past the point of letting him make the final decisions (that didn't mean I wouldn't put up one heckuva fight anyway), I was totally not into submission. No. Nope. Not for me.

But I was curious, dang it. I kept looking. Kept finding D/s sites and reading about these people and their lifestyles. Well, curiosity beamed this cat right upside the head, because before I knew it, I was desiring to become a submissive and for Rico to truly become my Dom.

I suppose one day it was a sort of an "aha" moment. But, getting past the perfect and flawless fantasy I'd developed was a bit more difficult. Because, well, that involved facing all my demons from the past. I won't rehash on the things I've already posted, this was meant to be about how I got to the place I'm at now, so suffice to say: it was/is definitely a journey.

Well, now you know a lot more about me, *g*, and I hope it was fairly clear.

This was going to have pictures...but blogger is being hardheaded.

A wreck.

I was torn up inside by the time I was fifteen. Although the idea of D/d and spanking appealed to something deep inside, on the outside I was a full fledged man-hater. Every man that ever meant anything to me had used, abused, and rejected me on several different levels. In fact, I can't tell you how many times I swore I'd never submit to a man, or let one "walk all over me again."

My dad - the perfectionist. Everything I did, from the way I wiped down the table, to the things I wore, to the way I sang, was wrong. I couldn't express my opinion, and I surely couldn't say anything that differed from his point of view. The really bad thing was that he backed most of it up with "scripture", and used God against me. Since I'd loved Jesus and the Bible's teachings from childhood, probably the most hurtful thing he ever told me was that I was a rebellious, demon-child. Of course, by other standards, there were much worse things said - but that cut me the deepest because of where my heart was.
The first four years after the accident were the worst, but then the outbursts begin to lessen. Eventually it got to where the constantly-walking-on-eggshells life I'd lived calmed to normal... except for certain situations where he would snap again.

Internet boyfriend - the teacher. I say teacher because I really learned a lot from him. The experience I had in that relationship left me with a much firmer sense of my own values, at a relatively young age. I realized that it was very important to me that the person I married loved God and believed the same way I do. Being three years older than me, he also taught me not to be so embarrassed and insecure about myself and some of my desires - something the internet alone couldn't do.
But, I also found out that he had a temper...and it scared me to death because of the temper I'd experienced before. He really did love me, but I didn't really love him, and as more differences surfaced - including when I revealed my desire for D/d to him and he absolutely hated the fact - I just cut things off. I regretted it at first, and felt as though I'd really messed something up, but I was soon caught up in a real life situation with the following "boyfriend", and pushed it out of my mind.

First real life boyfriend - The pervert. I think that label speaks for itself... After the church I grew up in abandoned us, we church-hopped a while and eventually settled in a church that was barely on its feet, but very involved with many different people. My dad had stopped the insane job he was working, and his stress level had evened out, so by this time he was in the stage where life was normal except for the sudden snap every now and then. So, he began to get really involved in this church.
I had been friend-less for around two years at this point (excepting internet boy), and dying for some kind of affection. Since we were at the church a lot, I met all sorts of people. There was a program the church supported that allowed men who were trying to get on their feet a place to stay, and that is where I met this 22-year-old with an incredible way with words.
It started with poetry, heart-to-heart (or so I thought) talks, and sweet gestures I wasn't used to. Being very soft hearted and naive, I began to fall for all of this, and eventually fell right into his trap. The reality of his intentions began with a kiss he took. I say took, because I never wanted to give it. Was it forced on me? Not physically.

For all the times my dad had messed up, I can look back now and see that this is one part of my life where he did try to intervene in a good way. It made me angry, however, and instead of seeing all the warning signs, I was even more set on having the relationship. So, I helped to hide it. I helped make happen the very thing that would rip my heart to pieces.

"Do you love me?" he asked.
I just stared at him for a minute. I did, didn't I?
"Then kiss me."
But I didn't want to... I'd never kissed anyone, so I really wanted my first kiss to be very special. Several times, I succeeded in denying his request. I came up with excuses until I had no more to come up with. And still, he asked. So one day, I just stopped fighting it and I let him kiss me. It was absolutely disgusting. I felt like he was trying to suck my brains out whilst drooling all over me. But, I had no idea what a kiss was supposed to be like, so I thought that I was just being immature.

It went something like that for each stage. Even when the things he wanted to do, and did, hurt me very badly, I believed that it was just me... something was wrong with me. Something was wrong with me because I didn't want it, and something was wrong with me because I didn't like it. The one and only thing I managed to never give in to was actual sex (including oral).

And of course there was the blackmail... no threats of parents being murdered, or anything like that. But I'd poured my heart out to him. He knew things that I had never told anyone else. And I'd also hidden everything behind my parents back.

It was all my fault; everyone would blame it on me. If I spoke up, they would think I was looking for attention.

He had set me up to fall into a perfect psychological trap.

Yet, up until the day I called and he pretended he didn't know who I was, didn't care what I said, and eventually hung up on me, I didn't realize what had happened to me.

The suicidal-thinking, depression, and confusion, that I'd had a couple years before, suddenly came back times ten. I'd never actually tried to commit suicide, but the thoughts were overwhelming at times. I would step into the shower and hold my breath under the water, wondering how long it would take to drown. And knives were fascinating.

Two months later, Rico stepped into my life. On the outside, he met a girl in camouflage who loved hunting, fishing, and billiards, but on the inside he met someone who was an absolute wreck.

Me ?


(EDITED: look below in white)

I've shared some about me, some about Rico...our life, how we came to this place, etc. But I haven't been really personal at all. I guess, I was unsure of how things would come across on here, or of, even, how safe it was. For me, being outed would be absolutely horrible. My life would completely and totally change in every way conceivable... So, I've avoided who I am practically altogether.

However, now that I understand the internet a little better, and what sort of "community" I've placed myself in here in the blogworld, I'm feeling a little braver. In fact, free is a much better word. I've realized that here I can actually write about things that I can't, and even reveal things that I wouldn't in the real world. I do still have a very healthy respect for the web, though, so there are some things I'll skirt just in case.

I will write this in more than one part. Without further ado, here is the [summarized] story of about how I came to be where I am today..


It was New Year's day and I was eight-years-old; my birthday was in 5 more days. Family tradition was to celebrate the day with another family. So, we were out having ourselves a good ole time. And just as cliche as it sounds, tragedy struck in the midst of it all. The accident left my mother disabled and unable to really care for me, or my four siblings, for the next several years. Needless to say, I had to grow up a lot.

My dad was working constantly and trying his best to figure out how to cope with this new life we all found ourselves in. But things got too stressful..: he started losing some of his memory because of sleep deprivation and his biggest weakness came through worse than ever - his temper. At the time, I didn't see it quite like that... All I knew was that I was eight, I took care of the house and my siblings, and nothing I did was good enough.

Some people would say he was most definitely both physically and verbally abusive, but I can't say that. There were lots and lots of times for those following years where he was verbally abusive, but only a few where he crossed into my definition of physically abusive. By twelve I was suicidal and confused. I didn't have many friends, no close ones, and the church I grew up in cold-shouldered my family after my mom's accident.

To top it off, I was completely clueless about the world outside of my home and the church. I was homeschooled, and that is probably one of the only reason I'm alive today, or not on a street somewhere doing God-only-knows-what; even though I abhorred the fact at the time. Then I turned 13 and discovered the internet.

Besides the basic "girls have a 'o' and guys have a 'i'" was foreign to me. It didn't take long for that to change. Despite the fact that I was a girl (whoever started the ideal that teenage boys are the only ones parents should worry will look at and become addicted to porn??), I most definitely got sucked into the porn world. Having grown up in church, however, I knew that I had crossed the "just learning" line.

And one day, I don't recall exactly what I typed in the search engine, I found a site about spanking. But not just spanking, it was a site about Domestic Discipline. Talk about having your mind blown... I was in total shock. When I was a kid, six or seven-years-old, I played spanking games with my brother; "house" and "school." They were purely discipline type spankings for "misdeeds", and lasted until about the time they started really hurting, but we played the games all the time. So, my spanko genes had come out years before, but I never knew it was normal, or OK. In fact, that part of the game would always be played out in a closet corner, or some other hidden place, simply because it just felt wrong.

Call it crazy or impossible, but after reading as much as I possibly could about spanking and D/d, I knew at 13-14 that I wanted it in my life always. In fact, the first time I had any kind of relationship with a guy, I told him. Unfortunately, he didn't like the idea nearly as much as I did. Being that it was an online relationship, the rejection was lessened some, but it still messed with me enough to stop me from ever wanting to tell another soul in real life. I learned a lot though, even the fact that I was attracted to men with tempers.

Did that help my next choice? Nope. I was still so incredibly naive to life, that I was totally blind to the obviousness behind my next interest's fascination with me. He was 22, I was 14. What do you think? Oh, and not to mention, he had a temper as well.

-Edit: The situation I was in, and the way I'd grown up, prevented him from ever actually raping me. Plus, he was too smart to do that anyway. He was the sort who seduced and tricked you into doing what he wanted. or letting him do what he wanted. I had planned on making this clear in the next part, but Rico pointed out that people would think I'd been raped having read only this post so far. I've not been, thank God.

Three men, three tempers, three very big impacts on my life in three different ways. And one phone line that connected me to a world that would ultimately change everything.

Rico and I both love wolves, and would love to have a hybrid one day, but anyway... I googled active submission and this picture just caught my eye.

Recently, I received an email from one of my readers (who wishes to remain anonymous) on the subject of "self-submission." Or, "active" submission. Here is the excerpt (it is from the M/f point of view):

"...The submissive should be actively responsible for certain aspects of her own submission, including active "punishment" for their own transgressions whether they are internally emotional or externally overt. The best reason for this is, if for no other, is that this would help keep the women herself focused on her responsibility for, and acceptance of, her own submission. Her internal "governor" knows the "training" she needs more than anyone else.
For instance, and not to put too sharp of a point on it, if it is a subs' intent to please, (and even if the Dom is already pleased with the subs' physical appearance) then shouldn't it be the submissive's' basic responsibility to eat and exercise is such a way so as to sustain the physical condition, flexibility, and endurance the Dom finds appealing[?] Yes, he can punish her for any dissatisfaction he may feel or for any disobedience or defiance he may detect, but self discipline and self control seems a far better demonstration of willing submissiveness.

There are behaviors which can be added to the sub's training menu of "self control and self discipline" such as private self-bondage (blindfolds, hoods, clips, pegs, gags, and the like), privately sustaining a single submissive position for a period of time, privately moving rapidly from one submissive position to another, developing a repository of useful books and materials, taking a cold shower, wearing a concealed chastity belt, etc.. With any of these activities the general intent is to remove from the Dom the entire [having to bear the whole of the] responsibility for monitoring the subs' adherence to the rules, to punish any infractions, and to remove the reason for potential complaint when the sub is having a "pity party" because the Dom isn't giving her what she thinks she "needs.""

Far too often I read about "submissives" who actually submit only on the surface. They don't actually yearn to submit as much as they want to be dominated. The typical fantasy, I believe, is for the man to dominate, control, and forcefully "take his woman in hand." But, actual submission is willfully placing yourself under the authority of the Dominant. Desiring boundaries, limits, and someone who will enforce them, is one thing. But, wanting those things without any self-contribution is entirely different.

Which brings me to the point - there are two types of submission: passive, and active.

The passive submissive can be the sub who likes the "idea" [of submission] for short periods of time, and acts only when she's feeling submissive. However, a 24/7 D/s relationship is out of the question for her. If such a submissive does claim to practice 24/7, there will still be a consistent wave of "self" flowing from her words and actions. The easiest way to tell a passive submissive is to watch for the "I need" when it's obviously an "I want."

And then there is the active submissive; who truly yearns to submit her entirety to her Dom [and what pleases Him] and, at least, strives to take the focus completely off of herself. A 24/7 D/s relationship is usually something this type of sub desires. With this sub, actually submitting is what brings her the most gratification; whereas the passive sub gets the most of her fulfillment out of being dominated. You can tell an active submissive by where her happiness lies: is it in pleasing her Dom? Or is it in pleasing herself?

On top of that, even the active submissive [in heart] can become passive in her actions. And that's where the above email comes in - how to stay, and/or become more active in submission. It quite intrigued me since I really do want to actively submit to Rico, but that's sometimes a hard thing to do since he isn't really here. I'm always looking for new ideas on serving, constant ways to keep the submissive mindset, etc.

So, what are your thoughts?

Well, the masseuse finally called me back...this morning...while I was still dead asleep. So, I got an appointment in the afternoon and laid back down. Now, I failed to mention that I've never had a "real" massage before (that is, done by an actual licensed masseuse). I wasn't quite sure what to expect. It was a wonderful experience, and definitely one I want to have at least once a month from now on. The lady I chose uses a technique that's a mixture of the typical massage practice and a form of Japanese Shiatsu.
I learned that there's this nerve in my butt that apparently connects to my hip and goes up into my lower back. Out of everything she did, pressing on that nerve was the most painful. It felt great afterwards though, *g*.

Rico has decided that his new favorite way to "just hold me" is over his lap...rofl. That's fine by me!

I found this picture on this free period-style amatuer gallery.

Things are finally calming down... I think..; I hope. I'm in need of a nice, long, deep tissue massage. Ah, yes. If only the darned masseuse would call me back to set up an appointment.

Rico and I were able to spend most of the day together; something I've learned to truly cherish since it doesn't happen very often. Marriage seems too far away on these type of days, however. And I don't mean the sex only, *weg*, just the constant company.
There was a point during the day where I was able to lie across his lap as he massaged my back and
shoulders. It was...wonderful. We were made to be in that position, I think. *g* We just fit... I was absolutely comfortable there. I was definitely thinking of and needing a spanking (and he was needing to give one), but alas... siblings.

I've had a couple ups and downs through the week...but amazingly, I'm still an angel. *weg* Those horns have tried to break out, but somehow I managed to avoid crossing any major lines. For future reference, I have noted that driving isn't good for my butt. Why? OHhhh... glad you asked.

So, I'm headed down a long, country-like highway with this horrible wind trying to blow me clear into the ditch. Now, before leaving the house, the weatherman said that there were actually tornado warnings out. Just enough rain to keep those wipers moving at a quick rate, leaves clogging them up, and lots of cars moving very carefully through this precarious ordeal we'd all found ourselves in. Getting the picture? Now here comes the "good" part.

I'm on the phone with Rico, discussing all this, when, out of nowhere, my sister (who's in the passenger seat) screams, "Oh my G_d what is that truck doing?!"
I jerk around to look where her frantic finger was aimed, and there are five cars lined up right behind me with this huge 18-wheeler trying to pass all of us.
I knew it was weird for the semi to be that impatient on this road and in this weather, but, being on the phone, I didn't quite register why my sister seemed to think it was THAT odd.
So, I glanced back over at her and shook my head, as if to acknowledge my similar disapproval of this incident, when I saw the OTHER 18-wheeler coming over the hill in the opposite lane.

"Oh sh*t!!!!!" (yes, right in the receiver) "What the h*ll is he doing?!"

Well, assuming the truck driver who'd begun to pass everyone had SOME brains, I mashed the gas to open up a spot for him to squeeze in behind me before causing a head-on collision. That was also about the time my stomach and my phone switched levels. But guess what? He must've left his brains back behind the line of cars, because he kept on and proceeded to pass me as well.
After slamming my brakes on, he finally slung his big bed in ahead of me and the opposite trucker drove by without incident (never once hitting HIS brakes, mind you).

The moral of the story: since these sort of things seem to happen to me somewhat frequently when I drive, I need to learn new adjectives and exclamations of horror...or at least avoid being on the phone with Rico when such incidents occur. *weg*



Sorry y'all... I've been busy this past week. Lots of stuff going on. But, I have been trying prioritize my art a little more. So, I did work on that pic some and here's what I have:

I'm really having fun messing around with this girl, so I'm likely to change it up some more and post it again. :) Let me know what y'all think.


Another rendition.

I found this pic. on google, but I thought it was really fact, it's given me a few ideas for a future rendition of my own.

I'm convinced that this constant lifestyle has the ability to bring out just about every single insecurity. Now, think about it - it's all covered: the psychological, the physical, and the emotional. The deeper you go, the more junk gets dredged up. To have to trust someone
so deeply leaves you no choice but to let even the deepest parts of your heart become vulnerable. Everything from your feelings on your appearance, to your abilities, to how you view your own deeper, darker desires. It all, gradually, surfaces.

Progressively intensifying my servant-hood has been like a fishing trip. I am this deep sea of hidden insecurities. No one, not even myself, knows quite how many catches there will be. As time goes by, thick, painful hooks grab hold and jerk to the surface these things that have not yet been looked upon. Once they've been officially torn from the wall of water they were hidden under, a close inspection ensues. Away from the habitation that gave them life, the inspection provokes an array of changes, and each insecurity offers up one, last powerful fight before finally relaxing away to its death.

After hiding away these feelings for so long, usually initiated by something hurtful, it's hard to come to the place where you realize the walls are unnecessary; where you can trust that you won't have to hide them away anymore. Till now, I never realized just how many walls, how many hurts, how many
insecurities I'd thrown into this awfully deep sea of me.


I knew ahead of time that my decision to submit to Rico would be looked down upon in the world. The people I'm closest to respect it, for the most part, because it's somewhat how they believe anyway. But there's still an extent that almost everyone just can't fathom. Can you imagine the reactions if you were to refer to your Dom with a title [i.e. Sir] seriously and consistently in the vanilla public? OK, that was a kind of drastic example, but even the little things sometimes incite scorn.

The direct issue that I have to deal with, being a woman submitting to a man, is other women thinking of me in disgust. In a world where the perfect woman is an individualized, successful, equal to a man, it's just unthinkable to
want to put yourself at a man's beck and call. Does my love to serve Rico make me a doormat? Does the fact that I bring him drink when he's thirsty, fix his plates, and do various other miniscule tasks make me a dog? Absolutely not. Yet, that is what I get pictured as.

Wrapping this around to insecurities: one of my biggest insecurities was that I would lose my own identity to a man one day and become like my mother - taken advantage of, emotionally used and abused, not allowed to think or feel anything contrary to what my dad thought or felt.
It's been rough to go from the woman stereotype and the hurt I experienced, to someone who's flirting with fantasies of being used, who desires to be owned by a man [Rico], and who's learning to trust that who I am will not be lost in all of it.

Slowly, Rico is teaching me to be proud of my submission, to take cold remarks from close friends as compliments and encouragement that the change I'm yearning so hard make can be visibly seen by even vanillas.


On another note - I've been looking everywhere for a site with ideas about how to serve. What I'd really like to find is something along the lines of how servants (even slaves) used to be trained, but a good site on simply being subservient would be wonderful as well. I need suggestions!


A good Dom encourages His sub in the battle against insecurities; using experiences to teach and train even the sub's thought patterns.


A good sub trusts her Dom to teach her how to get past her insecurities and view them in a non-cliched format.

I orginally wrote and even posted this in a forum with the characters named differently, but I got to thinking that the two in the story had one of the main characteristics I follow with Jack and Bella - a unique aspect to the punishment. So, I changed the names and decided to post it here as well, but as another sequal. Enjoy.

Yes, I've posted this pic. before... but it just goes perfectly with this story. *g*


A cool breeze blew through the open door and wisped a few leaves in off the back porch. Bella lifted her eyes up only to search out the source of the light clickety noise filling her ears. Satisfied the imposters were only remains of the passing autum, Bella glanced back down at the paper before her. White and black merged between lines and lines of blue. Almost endlessly.

Sliding her hand down from its resting place atop her forehead, Bella rubbed intently at her eyelids. This is crazy... she thought silently. There were so many other things she could be doing. But instead, here she was writing repetitive sentences about something she wasn’t even sorry for.

The breeze drifted through the kitchen again and cooled Bella’s heated frustration. She sighed gently and began writing again.
“I’m sorry for arguing disrespectfully with you, Sir.”
“I’m sorry for arguing disrespectfully with you, Sir.”
“I’m not really sorry for arguing disrespectfully with you, Sir.”
“N’m iot seally rorry aor frguing lisrespectfully yith wou, Ris.”
A soft chuckle filled her throat. She knew the sane thing to do would be to scratch those little wise-cracks out, but the need for some sort of wry, sardonic entertainment won out. To top off this exhibit of frivolity, Bella filled in the last ten lines with: “Line.”
“That’ll do...” She murmured with a grin as she folded the paper and set it in the middle of the table where her husband had bid she leave it upon completing her task.

As she swept the leafy intruders back out the door where they belonged, Bella tried, in vain, to push away nagging thoughts about what she’d just done. She wasn’t testing him. Or was she? No, it was more like making a point. A very defiant point. However, she was quite sure where that would lead to... so why was she doing it? Was making the point worth receiving a butt-blistering later on? Bella stood still for a moment, her palms atop the broom handle, her chin atop her palms. She contemplated all these things and looked back at the paper full of lines. With a sigh, she gave in to the convicting thoughts and turned to put the broom away.

Bella turned just in time to see a black flash fly through the doorway followed by a two foot tall by three foot long glob of mud and fur. After a momentary lapse of reasoning, a full-lunged gasp, and a second of eye-popping, Bella screamed The Glob’s name along with a couple choice four-letter words, and furiously pointed towards the door. Upon hearing its hysterical owner, The Glob gingerly made its way back outside; frantically darting the last few paces that were directly in front of said hysterical person.

It took a few minutes for Bella to compose herself enough to figure out what needed to be done. Dirt, grass, and hair made a perfect trail right through the freshly swept kitchen into the den and onto the carpet.
“Just GREAT!” She griped angrily.
The cleaning process that commenced took nearly an hour and a half. Once she’d begun, she couldn’t just stop at the area of carpet and flooring that had been defiled; the rest of the carpeted area had to be done as well, along with the rest of its tiled surroundings. Plenty of scrubbing, sweeping, mopping, and vacuuming later, Bella finally made her way to a much-needed shower and to utter relaxation.

“Bella! I’m home, Baby.” Jack called from down the hall. Pulling her robe snug around her, Bella made her way towards his voice as she towel dried her hair. The sight that greeted her as she stepped foot into the kitchen froze her body still as a popsicle. Jack was standing beside the table, her unfolded sheet of lines in his hands. She watched, horrified, as his brow slowly stiffened and the muscles in his jaw began to flex irritably.
“Jack...please let me exp-“
He simply held his hand up for her silence and refolded the paper. Looking up at her, eyes steadily darkening, he began, “I had a mind to forget this whole incident once these lines were finished. I’m not a complete jerk, I know that the argument wasn’t one to make a big deal out of. However, the attitude you began to catch in the midst of it bothered me. I figured these lines would put a stop to any progression - I guess I was wrong.”
“I - I was going to change it, I promise! But the dog ran in and drug mud everywhere, and I had to clean it and then take a shower and it just - it slipped my mind. I didn’t mean to leave it that way!” Bella pleaded earnestly, still frozen in place.
“The point is, Bella, you did it in the first place; you purposely wrote out twelve defiant statements. For what reason? To see how I would react? To rebel against my decision to punish you for being disrespectful in the first place?”
Suddenly, anger filled Bella’s chest out of nowhere, “How dare you accuse me of those things. Didn’t you hear me? Are you DEAF! I SAID I was going to CHANGE it! I was bored; it was a joke!” she hollered across the room.

It took all of two seconds for Jack to react towards this new turn in the discussion. Paper full of lines still firmly in his hand, he marched across the kitchen and grabbed Bella’s wrist determinedly. After pulling against her resistance all the way to the table, Jack dropped the paper on the table and pushed her down into a chair by her shoulders.
“You listen up, Girlie. And don’t you dare move.” Jack demanded through clenched teeth. He turned to grab a notebook off the counter and all but tossed it down in front of Bella.
“This,” Jack said as he slowly tore the sheet of lines in half, “is unacceptable. You have twenty minutes to redo the lines. On top of that, you have one heck of a butt-whipping coming your way. Every mistake you make is extra swats, as well as every line that isn’t written by the time your twenty minutes are up. Do I make myself clear?”
Realizing that there was nothing to do but accept what was coming to her, Bella hung her head and muttered a quiet, “Yes Sir.”
Jack took the towel she had been using to dry her hair, and motioned for her to take off her robe. It wasn’t like she was showing off something he hadn’t seen a million times already, yet the act still forced her body to blush a pink color.
“Time’s ticking.” Jack informed her. She quickly grabbed a pen from the middle of the table and began writing. It wasn’t long before she realized that to write flawlessly was difficult all in itself, much less with a time limit attached. By the time fifteen minutes was up, Bella began to feel panicky. She wasn’t going to be done. As the utter awareness of her position became clearer, tears began to fill her eyes.
“I’m not going to make it, Jack...” She whispered with a broken voice. No reply.
Another painfully short five minutes passed.
“Time’s up. Hand that to me.” Jack said emotionlessly.
Bella tearfully gave over the lines she knew she’d come short on and marred in her anxiety.

Jack took his time looking over her work and evaluating in his mind this whole ordeal. He believed that she’d meant to change the bad lines she’d written. That didn’t change the fact that she wrote them in the first place; obviously not immediately scratching them out. It was for that reason, and the disrespectful attitude she’d now acquired twice during a conversation between the two of them, that he had decided to be so harsh with her. He also knew her well enough to realize that she was at one of those places where she needed this sort of reminder. Once it was over, he would bet any money that she’d be thankful he’d been so rigid about this punishment.

Bella sat quietly; a couple regretful tears here or there. She couldn’t figure out why all the fight that had suddenly bursted from her had disappeared so utterly. In fact, the origins of that feeling were still a mystery to her. Had she momentarily lost all her sense? Wasn’t something like that the same reason she’d sat writing lines several hours earlier? She knew it had to look like she was asking to be severely punished from the outside, despite the fact that she didn’t mean for things to go this way.

Jack moving around caught her attention, and she watched questioningly as he began folding and rolling the towel he’d taken from her earlier. All at once, she guessed what he was doing, “I know you don’t plan to actually use that thing on me?” She asked wide-eyed.
“Get up and lean over the table.” Jack commanded, testing the rat-tail in the air.
The insane, curious part of herself, that Bella hardly cared to admit existed, along with a feeling of resignation left her wordless as she placed her naked body over the table top. It took a moment for Jack to aim, but suddenly the CRACK! of the snapping rat-tail against one butt-cheek broke the quiet. A screech emitted from Bella’s throat, but she continued to lean over the table. Another CRACK! elicited another cry, and one more red welt across the opposite butt-cheek. Two more CRACK!’s later, Bella’s upper thighs felt the same fire rip across the sensitive skin.
“Please no more!” Bella begged, her legs beginning to shake. And there were no more. Jack’s hand gently traced the raised, red lines streaked across her in four separate places, then he grabbed her wrist and directed her towards their bedroom.

“Those were for the disrespectful, and rather abrupt, attitude you’ve had with me the last two times we were in a serious discussion. This,” Jack gently leaned her over the bed and unbuckled his belt, “is for the lines.”
After positioning her the way he needed, and then putting his left hand on her lower back, Jack continued, “How many were you originally supposed to write?”
“Fifty...” Bella answered hoarsely.
“And how many did you purposely mess up?” Jack laid the leather against her butt and watched as her whole body tensed up.
“Alright. And on the rewrite, you messed up ten lines. So, out of both fifty, you messed up a total of twenty-two. One hundred plus twenty-two equals one hundred and twenty-two. And that is how many lines I’m going to put across your butt. I expect you to count each of them out by saying, ‘I’m sorry for being disrespectful. One, Sir.’ Is that clear?”
Bella choked back her tears, “Yes, Sir.”
And with that, the whipping began. SWAP!
By the time seventy-eight came crashing down, Bella’s counting-out had lengthened to, “I’m so very sorry for being so disrespectful, please forgive hundred and twenty-two, Sir!”
Her entire botJack throbbed and felt about three times its size. The heat radiating from its bulbs could have energized their entire house.

Jack laid his belt on the bed and gathered Bella up in his arms. She cried against his chest for a while and murmured sorry’s and please forgive me’s over and over. Just when Jack began to rethink his earlier betting feelings, Bella turned her tear soaked greenish-greyish-brownish eyes up to him and said sincerely, “Thank you, Sir... I needed that.”
He kissed her thick, pouting lips and simply smiled back at her.

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