A Failure to Communicate

Adjusting to this new lifestyle has proven to be a bit more tough than anticipated.

We had an incident occur over the weekend that has definitely shaken things a bit.  Different from my post last week, I know.  I struggled with writing this piece at all, knowing that it isn’t fun or glamorous to publicly admit that your relationship and chosen lifestyle have been called into question by the two people that are most likely to be effected – US.  I needed days (yes, literally days) to process my feelings.  I just never really knew what to say.  But sometimes, I find courage in the way that others can identify.  A big thank you to Autumn @aspankingstory.blogspot.com for giving me the extra boost of courage I needed to get this post out.

Friday was great.  We spent time together in our pool and spa.  Cocktails in hand, we listened to old jazz and talked.  Then I started dancing…we started kissing.  Things were great.  Then, the surprise water implements came out.  This was definitely needed as both of us had a very busy week and maintenance and rule enforcement consistency had slipped.  Yet, there was still much to feel like a “good girl,” about.  The spanking that ensued occurred bent over the tile retaining wall between the pool and spa – perfect.  At the time, I remember thinking (only for a moment) how much fun it would be to write about this spa-nking.  (Like Frahnk from Father of the Bride)  JP chose a metal slotted spoon that is large and round.  (Don’t worry, my rear end is stronger than the bendy metal, but it does hurt for sure.)  I was staring up at the moonlight, the top half of my naked body was positioned above the water, the bottom half submerged.  I knelt on the step of the spa as I felt the slotted spatula make contact with my bottom, time and again.  In between, JP asked me affirming questions…like, “Who’s my good girl?”  “I am, Sir,” I could proudly reply.  “Who’s in charge here?”  “You are, Sir.”  Each time the slotted spatular made contact, a splash of warm water would rush through the holes and the sting of each smack was intensified – but also served as a soothing sensation.  It was oddly comforting, like warm soup on a cold day.  But, it was important.  It was serving as an excellent reminder of who was the top and who was ladling my bottom with Spank Soup.

When he stopped, he pulled me in close and whispered how much he loved me.  We went inside.  I put on a wife beater t-shirt and a pair of white cotton panties.  He put on a collared shirt, dress slacks, a tie, the whole nine yards.   He explained that I needed to sit in the chair and face the wall for a few minutes before we began.  It was hot, of course.  Despite the “hot” factor, I used this time for the purpose intended – genuine reflection time. Then we discussed why I was being punished.  There had been a lot of bratty behavior, a sunburnt bum early in the week and poor communication.  He delivered a sound spanking, starting with a warm up from the tilt wand, then moving on to a long, thin paddle.  Then the punishment began.  A thick Chechen wood paddle with the words, ‘Good Girl,’ engraved on one side, packs quite the punch.  I felt the punishment might have been a bit light…12 swats with low-medium level force proved his point quite nicely, though.  I didn’t cry, I usually don’t.  I thanked him.  We took a break, I changed.  We hung out for a little while longer and then made incredibly passionate love.  We felt super close.  It was amazing.

What’s not to love, right?

Saturday was a bit different.  I spent most of the day cleaning, and JP took the kids to a movie, followed by Grandma’s house for the evening.  I made a delicious dinner, things seemed to be going well.

However, several factors were working against me.  It had been so hot that day.  Humid and over 105 degrees.  I had been cleaning all day, grocery shopping and other assorted funnery.  I was tired and my back hurt.  I am generally not one to complain (too much).  However, the wise girl that I am…I decided to give up smoking cigarettes the very same day (JP HATES cigarettes) and stick to using the much less potent e-cig he brought home for me.  The extreme drop in nicotine levels caused me to be tired and very grumpy…irrationally exhausted.

I didn’t want to ruin any fun, and never complained more than once about my back hurting.  JP massaged my aches and pains and tenderly kissed my body all over.

So…what went wrong?  Well, next he went ‘a fetchin’ the chechen wood paddle.  I knew I needed to once again feel his dominance and, consequently, to absorb the therapeutic brain waves generated when submitting to the man I respect and love more than any other.

I (mistakenly) mentioned that I was having trouble staying in place, not kicking, raising up, etc., and that it would be great if we could work on that during this maintenance session.  I don’t know if he felt like I was topping from the bottom, or what.  It didn’t feel like he took that away from my comment at the time.

I should have communicated the following things instead:

1.  I am REALLY tired, worn out and exhausted

2.  I am still reaping the genuine benefits from last night’s punishment (even though it was light)

3.  When nicotine leaves my system and I am not getting that stream, my mental capacity isn’t up to par (granted, I didn’t really equate my emotional fragility with this nic-dip until later)

But I didn’t.  Epic FAIL.

He should have communicated the following things to me:

1.  I am going to test your limits, let me know if you need a break

2.  You should tell me before you reach your limit that your limit is close, then again when it is really close

3.  This is all loving maintenance and setting the bar for properly disciplining/punishing you in the future

That being said, I had my mind set for complete submission.  I don’t ever want to appear weak or frail.  I want to show genuine humility. I want to accept all of my spankings for whatever reason He chooses, and not make him feel bad for providing me with much-needed discipline, maintenance, play or role adjustment.  Besides, this was no punishment spanking.

He began with a warm up.  He used baby oil gel to ensure my bottom stayed supple and to prevent bruising.  He repeated the application several times throughout the spanking.  He started with a thorough warm up.  By the time he got to the spanking, my back was already killing me from impact.  I should have respectfully told him so…but I didn’t.  He never spanked overly hard; although he did alternate between hard hand smacks, The Chechan, the tilt wand, and the long, slender paddle.  The only bit of valuable communication that I did offer up (besides “Ow!!!” and a couple of muttered expletives) was that he had used the slender paddle so long that my rear was numb.  Brilliant offering, Pink, brilliant!  Meanwhile, I was thirsty (should’ve said something,) I was exhausted (should have said something) and I was feeling confused as to what we were doing.  This was by far the longest session we had ever had of any type.  (BUT, yep…I should’ve said something).

Instead of being the Humbled Pink good girl that I usually am, I was denying my own needs!  I was not protecting myself.

Just a piece of advice to anyone new to this…if you are in this situation, please speak up.  This isn’t the same as when you find yourself thirsty while walking through the mall.   Someone is discipling and/or spanking you.  Not asking for water or conveying other important needs is demeaning to one’s self.  I sincerely regret grasping at bravado in a time when all I needed to be was submissive.  Taking care of both partner’s true needs during any kind of session or scene is vital to physical and mental wellbeing.  I am stepping down from my soapbox now.

I allowed my body to endure more than my mind could endure in order to show how tough I was.  It is amazing how clear this all is 4 days later.  At the time, I was stunned.  I was confused, tired and craving a real cigarette.  As he continues to rain down, I finally slowly raised my hand and began to cry.  I choked my way through saying “Please, Sir…please stop, I can’t handle this anymore.”

That was nothing healthy or cathartic like most people talk about when releasing tears; and a cathartic episode was what I secretly yearned to experience at the end of this spanking.  But, I didn’t.  I failed to communicate in every way.

It was a cry of broken will; one that was ONE HUNDRED PERCENT AVOIDABLE now that I am 96 hours down the road from trying to be tough.  I know that it was never his intent to hurt me or “break me.” He loves me with every fiber of his being and we are closer and more in touch than we have ever been.  Communication!!!!!  @EmergingDom tried to remind me twice, but I failed when it was most important.  It is in every bit of research I have found.  It is the basis for success.  And I failed to communicate.  For that, JP, Sir… I am truly sorry and can only ask your forgiveness and promise to always keep an open line with you when it vitally impacts my safety and mental health.

Then came the after-care.  I was still confused.  My heart was in chains and my mouth was totally out of line.  He beckoned me to him, offering his wide open arms and tender touch. But as I tossed a salad of contempt dressed with a Blame & Shame Vinaigrette, I clammed up, started bawling and refused to hug him.  I did this for only a moment before I regained my rationality and apologized.  It was not his fault.  I did mention that I didn’t understand why it was so intense and long.  We were probably engaged in that session for no less than 45 minutes.  But then, I curled up and immediately went to sleep, with a whimper.

In retrospect, Sir, I apologize from the bottom of my heart for abandoning you when you needed to love me, for blaming you when it was I who needed to be seen as tolerant of pain and strong.  I am sorry for abandoning you completely by just going to sleep with no regard for your feelings.  

The next morning, when I woke up, I felt weird.  It was like a hangover that wasn’t a result of being drunk.  I was sad. I felt cold, isolated, and physically achey.  I can almost guarantee now that 90% of it was a result of not smoking.  At the time, I found it impossible to be rational and I spent several hours trying to feel okay.  JP went to get the kids (very sweet, btw) and I pulled myself out of that funk.  I immediately realized that I had not done him any favors by trying to be ‘hard’.  I had put him in a crappy position, possibly feeling as though he had abused me when I asked for this life and could have told him at any point that I needed to stop.

He tried to comfort me that morning, at first, and then I think it became a futile effort as far as he was concerned.  I took a bunch of brick and cement and put a wall up that we had recently torn down. (This is a metaphor.  No tangible physical barriers were actually constructed in the production of this analogy relating to my failure to communicate.)  I was in a bad mood, but got better as the day went on.  But the damage was done.

He felt abandoned.  He felt like he hurt me and I got mad.  I feel terrible for my short-sided view of the situation.

JP, my love, I assure you that you hold my love forever and that I can’t apologize enough for getting overly exhausted, not using the e-cig correctly to curb breakdowns, and for leaving you feeling lost and hurt.  I hope that you can forgive me, that you can come back around as my HoH and Dominant and that we can restore what we were doing a nice job of building.  Setting up more structure and responsibility to take the necessary time to maintain our lifestyle is a definite commitment of mine and I humbly ask you for your help in creating the structure we need and guiding me in a plan that will be successful.  

To anyone who reads this, please do not be discouraged by my experience.  I wish for nothing more than to convey that the DD side of our relationship was great until a breakdown in communication and subsequent blame (me) caused guilt (in him).  Now he feels unsure of his role – the worst possible outcome of a decision to water my own garden of pride.

We love each other.  Today, tomorrow…always.

Sir, we will make it through this, and I hope that I can restore your confidence in the fact that I believe you are an AMAZING HoH and dominant partner.  All my love,




2 thoughts on “A Failure to Communicate

  1. It sucks that you had this experience 😦 But, on the other hand, it sounds like you learned ALL the right things from it. The important thing is, you know what went wrong and how to fix it next time.

    I believe sessions like this are almost necessary, because DD is definitely a learning process, and bad moments like these make us appreciate the good moments even more 🙂

    On a side not, your implement collection sounds INSANE. A slotted METAL spoon???!!



    • Thank you so much, Autumn! The slotted metal spoon isn’t so bad. It sounds ridiculous, but it is never used with a great amount of force. It is actually one of my favorites in terms of hurting enough but not sooooo bad.

      And, yes, I knew there would be days like this. I never knew it would take so long to figure out why I felt the way I did.

      I am going to take pictures of my implements soon. They are interesting. 😉


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