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April, 2009

Paying the Toll

By April 17, 2009 Domestic Discipline

As some of you know, I’m an Oregonian who currently lives in Texas. In all my days driving through Oregon, I have only had to pay one toll—which was to cross the Bridge of the Gods into Washington. Oregon uses gas taxes as a means of paying for roads, and it really seems that they have taken that to heart, and therefore keep the amount of toll-paying down as much as possible.

Nowhere else, it seems, is that way. I was aghast when I had to pay 3 dollars every time I came from New Jersey to Philadelphia when I lived in Pennsylvania a couple of summers ago. I’ve just gone without paying a time or two. I was in a rental car, anyway. But now, I’m not so lucky. I never have that much money in my car—hell, I’m lucky if I have 90 cents in change. Isn’t that what they designed credit cards for? Not having to worry about the frivolities of physical cash?

So, when I had to pay the toll last summer while visiting a lady about cake for my wedding, I didn’t have money in the car. So I just went through the toll booth in the lane for cars with an electronic toll tag, even though I don’t have one. This had happened before—the state takes down my license plate and sends me a bill, tacking on an extra dollar for the inconvenience I’ve laden upon them.

So, I got a bill for this day, too. And I meant to pay it… But then it ended up in a drawer somewhere and I forgot about it.

And I meant to pay when I got the first and second reminder letters, too. But come on—you know how these things are! You stick them somewhere, and you only think about them when you get a bill from a BILL COLLECTION AGENCY with an additional payment of FIFTY BUCKS for not paying the toll.

I almost piddled myself when I saw the letter in the mailbox—an official sort of letter from Idaho with my name on it. I do no business with Idaho, so I had a feeling it was nothing good. The only attention I might have deserved from Idaho was because of a toll road in TEXAS.

So, surely my credit’s taken a hit at this point, and I’m writing a check from our joint checking account, knowing that I’m going to have to come clean because James is the type who would look at our bank statement and wonder what a $50 charge was doing on there.

Unfortunately, not saying anything about it and hoping James would never notice wasn’t an option. Not saying anything about something like this is as good as lying in James’ book. And I’ve never had the spanking for lying. James assures me that I really don’t want to go there. When he talks about people deserving an “extreme spanking” where a switch is cut and all that nonsense, he describes the deservees as “women who drive drunk and women who lie to their husbands”. So he puts lying to him up there with drunk driving and getting arrested. Perfect. He says it is because trust is so very critical to a marriage.

So, knowing that I was going to have to tell James and just really, really hope that James had the best day EVER, I was dreading his coming home. He had gone with friends to play a game of disc golf that afternoon. I tried to make things better on myself by helping out in “The Wood Room”, which is a room in our house that James is rebuilding (so named for its partly finished wooden paneled walls). The previous owner started converting the garage into a room, but only got about halfway done. I cleaned the dust and excess wall texturing off of the windows that were open right in front of the driveway.

Chris, James’ best friend, was actually driving the group to and from disc-golf, which is a rarity. Normally James comes home all by himself, as he has to spend an hour dropping off his friends, but when they both drove into the driveway, my spirits were up since they were both in a rather good mood—meaning that James probably won a game. Finally, James came in and asked how my day was and immediately thanked me for helping with the room.

I had been working very hard all day—painting cabinets in the kitchen. Which really was not fun at all, and I probably looked as tired as I felt. So, when I finally told him about the bill, I sounded very angry with myself and the whole situation. He said that we would take a shower and talk about it later, but was cut short because Chris was suddenly standing right in front of the open windows.

James was about to discuss my upcoming spanking, which would have made a very good side-story to the event, because we were about to blow Chris’ mind with the private details of our relationship. He had come back to grab his cell phone (which he’d forgotten at our place), no doubt in time to hear my confession and see how miserable I was about it. If it was me looking in on the situation, my brain would have already gone to what was going to happen. But I don’t think Chris is that imaginative.

Because, at this point, James didn’t say anything about spanking yet—I like to think he won’t decide to do it, although he said, “Take a shower with me, and afterwards we’ll talk about it.” Yeah, we’ll “talk” about it. But it hasn’t happened yet when he says “talk about it” that way that we’ve “talked about it” when I wasn’t bare-assed and draped over his knee.

Still, we showered together (we’re big on doing that even when we aren’t in the mood for anything sexual, because we can chat without being distracted by anything, and we both like taking long showers), and we tried to talk about other things besides what I’d done. But I couldn’t keep myself from bringing up the issue. I was frustrated with myself. “I can’t believe I let that happen!” I grumbled.

“I know that sort of thing happens sometimes. I know you sometimes have trouble remembering things,” he shrugged simply and kissed me. “Don’t worry about it right now. After we’re out of the shower, you should do a short write up on what happened exactly—because I don’t really understand, and because it would be something to put on your blog. I’ll read it, and then we’ll talk about it.”

“Is there anything I can do to avoid a spanking?” I said, truly hoping there was something I could do to get out of it.

“No,” he said gently, so not to upset me. “I really don’t think so.”

I sighed, feeling suddenly resigned to my fate.

After the shower, I got on the computer and typed up this:

Back when visiting the cake lady for my wedding, I had to go through the toll booth. When I saw it coming up, I tried to get off the road and go around, but my attempts didn’t work. I didn’t have money in my car and I had very little change in my car. My ash tray merely contained pennies at that moment. So, I just went through. And I wasn’t worried, because a similar situation had happened before, where for a few extra cents, I could pay online after they sent me a bill. On the way back, I was on the phone, forgot about tollbooths, and got hit again by the bill. Again, I was unconcerned. The bill was going to come anyway.

So, a couple of months later, the bill did come. I can’t remember when it did, but I have a feeling it was just in time for the month of my wedding, and it was immediately forgotten about.

And another bill came. I’m sure it said, “Seriously. Pay it.” And I really meant to—I was just not on the internet already, and I meant to get back to it. And it got buried in paperwork and forgotten about. I can’t remember if there was a third or not—but if there was, I didn’t even open it. I just meant to get online with my credit card and pay it. But I kept forgetting to do it.

And so, today, I saw an envelope, that was quite thick and from Idaho. It was from a financing company, asking for money for my tickets, originally of a $2.50 value, and with $50 of administrative fees. Now, I just feel foolish. $50 is a lot of money! And all because I kept putting something off…

Of course, this sealed the deal. James hadn’t quite understood before that I had gotten two extra warnings from the toll road company. So, there was quite a few “boo-boos” involved. After I had handed him the laptop and he sat down to read what I had written, he sent me into the bedroom and told me to undress (even though I had JUST gotten dressed) and to be in the corner with only my panties on, and to have the belt and the paddle out of the closet and on the bed.

A trifecta of punishment is nothing to look forward to. But preparing for the eventual punishment, for me, is far easier than receiving extra for not doing as instructed. I got ready, and by the time I was nearly naked in the corner, James was done reading and was in the bedroom, thanking me for getting all of that done and, as always, he told me he loved me very much.

Then he started the lecture. Listening to his lecturing always tends to be a bit awkward—I’m nearly naked, and I’m normally very nervous and twitchy. But I do remember him mentioning the point that if I had just gone through the toll booth without paying, it’s no big deal. Even if I forgot to pay until the first notice, it’s no big deal, probably just a few swats with his hand, if anything. But ignoring the first notice… and then ignoring the SECOND notice… and possibly a THIRD… that got me into REAL trouble. And from now on, if he sees a bill waiting around the house that I haven’t taken care of, I will get spanked immediately. (A bill specifically for me that is, James takes care of most of our finances, and we share our bank account, so I don’t have very many bills to pay.) If I ever let something go this far without taking care of it again, I’ll get a switching. (No, I’ve never actually been switched yet. It just sounds scary. James would never break the skin of course, but I’m sure it would hurt far worse than any spanking I’ve had before.) When I see something important I need to take care of, I need drop everything I’m doing and take care of it so that I don’t forget. I’m sure there was more to the lecture, but that was the bulk of it.

And then I was pulled gently over his lap and the spanking began. As always, it started with the hand. You might think “Oh, a warm up!” But you’re wrong. I swear James is a distant relation to the Tin Man. Call it what you will, but I’m definitely going to call it part of the real deal. It was even much longer of a hand spanking than usual, with special attention being paid to the backs of my thighs and the inner sides of my bottom cheeks.

After this “Warm up” my ass was already beat-red, and I was already crying. (And normally a hand spanking does NOT bring the tears out of me). He saw that I was already upset and gave me a hug and held me for awhile before he sent me back into the corner for a few minutes. (Trust me—corner time is awesome. It’s time to cool down and collect myself so I don’t lose it completely.) Afterwards, it was another lecture and we were back at it.

You all might remember the last BIG spanking I got with the belt. Well, this was no different. It was another moment of me laying with my back on the bed, James holding up my legs and going to town on my bottom. He spanked my already red bottom and thighs all over again. But I was bawling already, enough so he had to stop a couple of times to comfort me and give me a rest. But he wouldn’t be talked out of finishing.

I cried all through my corner time afterwards. My bottom was throbbing, and most of all, I felt so stupid. He thought it was going to make me feel better when he came back with the wooden spoon and said that he was going to use that instead of the paddle. But I don’t remember it making me feel any better—I was pretty inconsolable.

I don’t know why, but when your ass is that red, you can feel everything! FINGERS feel like murder, let alone a wooden spoon. It felt like medieval weaponry. When he finally decided that my ass was PLENTY red, he gave me my last 10 spanks on the inside of my thighs—which I think were even more tender than my bottom. I think that might have been his point, though—he KNEW I hated those, but he wanted me to learn the lesson so he never had to follow through with the threat of cutting a switch. He made it clear that he really wanted it to be the last spanking for at least a good while, especially about the issue of procrastinating and then forgetting important things. (Yet, I got a spanking not three days later because of the food journal issue, which I wrote about a few days ago). Fortunately for me, he didn’t follow through and use the switch for that spanking, because he felt he hadn’t been reminding me properly. Of course he had no such worries in this case, since he had never known about the toll issue in the first place.

Afterwards, he had to comfort me for a LONG time before I felt normal again. It’s funny how the events during the course of the day could turn to that. An ass that I LITERALLY could not sit with for 2 full days. Sigh!

I like to think one day I’ll screw my head on straight and avoid forever these sorts of situations. I’ve been doing quite well with the checklist James made me print out, so I think I’m on the right track.

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The Evil Food Journal

By April 14, 2009 Domestic Discipline

A lot of you know that I’m one of those who treat Domestic Discipline as some sort of “cause”, and my husband and I, therefore, try to live as examples for other couples who might at some point consider using DD as a part of their relationship. Not that we’ve told any of our real life couple friends yet, but someday we might, and we would like to have some concrete examples of how it has helped us, both individually and as a couple.

We both believe that DD can help women accomplish goals that they have trouble accomplishing themselves. Achieving a goal weight is a prime example of this, since weight loss is a goal shared by so many women. It is also often a difficult and stressful goal to achieve, and one where we think domestic discipline can really play a useful role. Remember that we are talking here about goals that women have set for themselves. There are some rules that James makes, and enforces, whether I like it or not. The no swearing rule was one example, since I strongly disagreed with it when James and I first met, although I’m glad for it now. However, for a couple who is new to DD, a possible starting point might be the husband helping the wife to achieve some of her own, personal goals. It is a less daunting starting point for two reasons. First, from the wife’s perspective, she isn’t going to feel bullied or pushed around, because she is setting the goals herself. Second, from the husband’s perspective, he doesn’t have to feel any guilt or worry about spanking his wife when she isn’t making choices that will help her reach her goals, because she set the goals herself, and she asked for his help. This makes it easier for him to ignore pouting, whining, arguing, or in my case, the patented “Aren’t you being unreasonable?” look.

Now, back to the original point. When I have the body of a fine-tuned athlete with skinny legs (“Mick-Jagger legs” as I used to call them) and rock-hard abs as I did in high school, I still weigh 130 lbs. But right now I weigh 150. Since I got up to 180 in college, I think 150 is astounding, and a weight I have not seen in many moons. And for the most part, I think I already look quite good, and James agrees. I’m not overweight, but as most of you women out there know—it’s not about looking “normal”. It’s about looking like a scorching hottie. We can accept nothing less from ourselves. Losing about 15 pounds is a goal I have set for myself. I spent the first year and a half since James and I met trying to achieve it on my own, with very limited success, so right after we got married I asked James to help. Losing weight over the honeymoon and over the Christmas holidays just wasn’t going to happen, and James didn’t even try to make or enforce any weight related rules. After the New Year, James asked me if I still wanted his help. He told me he thinks I’m very beautiful at my current weight, and so he was fine with whatever decision I made. He asked me to think about it, and make sure I wanted his help, since if he did help, he was making a promise to me that he would make sure I succeeded. I thought about it, and decided that I did want his help.

In addition to looking my best, I figure that if I can reach 130 again, and people ask how it’s done, I’ll just tell them, “My husband made me keep to it. Because he spanks me.” (Not EXACTLY that sentence. I’m working on it.)

However, setting the goal is much easier than achieving the goal. And for James, offering to help is much easier than actually following through and making sure I eat right and exercise. And James has witnessed that although it seems I mind my eating habits and workout habits carefully, I still can’t lose weight. He maintains that I haven’t been able to work out and eat right consistently. He claims I do it for a week at a time, and then stop, and then start again later. And so, we’ve taken to the food journal. The food journal, in theory, removes any ambiguity from the process, since I can record exactly what I ate and when, and also whether or not I exercised, for how long, etc. I agreed to try “James’ way”, which I am skeptical of, because it is basically just what I’ve been trying for months now, except with James monitoring the process. If it works out, then James saying “I told you so” is a small price to pay for being skinny. If it doesn’t, James will be able to attest to the fact that all the usual “diet and exercise” ideas aren’t working, and I can go to a nutritionist and expect magic out of him. It helps if you have written down beforehand how much you’re working out, how much you drink, how much you eat, and what time you DO all of that. At the end of the day, I expect that nutritionist to pass me over a magic pill that will cure me of pudge.

Food journals, however, are NOT easy. I have trouble remembering to take a pill every day, let ALONE remember to write it down every time I pull a Trisket out of the pantry. But for my goals, it must be done.

I’ve really been sucking it up on this task. In general, remembering to do things I don’t really want to do is very difficult for me. This doesn’t just apply to the food journal, it has come up many other times as well. In fact, you’ll see another example in an upcoming post. I’ve never gotten so many spankings for one thing. My husband reminded me after my latest spanking the other day, “You have to start remember to do the things you promise to do. You’ve gotten more spankings over this issue than everything else put together.” And it’s true.

Many of you, like me, remember the spanking I got in the beginning of this March. You can look back into the archives if you don’t know what I’m talking about (or just click HERE). That spanking was truly awful. The spanking I received this last Saturday, however, was pretty odd for a repeat spanking due to the fact that it could have been much worse, and I couldn’t have argued about that.

My parents had come to town for about ten days, and after the 3rd day I lost my food journal (and I didn’t look very hard for it, to be honest), then even when I found it a couple of days later I didn’t add anything to it. After the last spanking, you’ll recall, I set up Microsoft Outlook so that every evening at 8:30 I get a reminder about my food journal. I got these messages, but then proceeded to ignore them. So, when I was filling in the pages with the best of my memory after my folks’ departure, I fessed up to what I was doing. I didn’t want to be accused of lying (which I really never want to be accused of, since James informs me that the spanking would be of historical proportions). James was in the middle of making a pizza, but he became very thoughtful.

After the pizza was made, however, he sent me, with my food journal, into the bedroom. (The bedroom has informally become the “punishment room”. I don’t think this is for any reason except that I feel uncomfortable being spanked in wide open spaces like the living room, and we’re creatures of habit). I mildly protested, but not for too long. He looked serious, but not angry. Just disappointed.

Without much further ado, I did as I was told. James was right behind me, and began the lecture as soon as he rounded the doorframe. “I know it’s not easy,” he began. “And I know that your parents are distracting, and I’m really grateful for all the work you guys did on the house. But you really have to remember the food journal. It’s just one thing. And you HAVE to do it right after you eat—every time. I blame myself this time; I need to remind you.” You see, James has asked me on several occasions to make a daily checklist, so I don’t forget things, but he’s never MADE me do it. The Outlook reminder was my alternative to the checklist, which James approved grudgingly. After that previous spanking, James was planning to remind me himself, after each meal, to fill out the food journal, but he failed miserably at this.

“I need to be stricter and more consistent and check your journal more often so every time you forget it doesn’t end up being a big spanking because you’ve forgotten for a week or more.” But he says this while he’s going into the closet for his belt. So I’m nervous already. “Bend over the bed.” He ordered, after which he peeled off my pants and panties and had me step out of them. He positioned me once on the corner of the bed, so that my legs would be apart, but when he asked, I admitted that my leg was feeling a little awkwardly placed, and so he put me back so I was bending over the long side of the bed with my legs on the ground (but still apart).

“How many days did you fail to write in your journal?” he asked, opening the book.

“I started writing again here,” I admitted, pointing at the book page.

“How many days?”

“Seven.” I said, glancing at it.

“Seven days times three meals a day, then. So that’s 21 strokes.” He figured. “It’s not going to be as bad as spankings I’ve given you before, because I haven’t been doing my job, but it’s going to get my point across.”

Then the first stroke fell. SMACK! Mind you; the belt sounds just as scary as it feels. But for some reason, you hear the sound before you feel the pain. I don’t understand the science of this.

But overall, James is becoming better at wielding the belt without bruising me. He has better control now, and he doesn’t hit with it as hard as he used to. Yet as soon as the belt hit the thighs…

Shudder. The belt, when connecting to the thighs, leaves an instant welt. There’s no “standing in place” to receive it. You FEEL it, and you RESPOND. Poor James always has to put an arm around my waist just to keep me in place. I certainly can’t do it on my own. And it’s harder in this position for James to keep me from putting my hands back there. Not to mention how easy it is just to stand up.

But it ended, and none-too-soon. The side of my ass was annoying me by hurting more than anywhere else. You can really tell, when being belted, how much the chub on your butt is protecting you from bruising, and as soon as there’s no fat somewhere… bruise, bruise, bruise! Luckily, everything’s gone now, and not many even lasted to the next day.

At the end of the spanking, as usual, James held me and comforted me. I wasn’t crying this time—just a bit rattled. I felt worse for James—he repeated his earlier lecture and told me that he wanted me to write out a “daily check list” and apologized consistently for “letting me down” and “not doing his job”. It’s wonderful to know that James takes my goals so seriously.

Afterwards, I made out a simple checklist and attached it to the fridge—just a “did you write down breakfast/lunch/dinner/night yogurt/other/exercise?” for the days of the week. I attached it to the fridge since I tend to open it by habit upon entering the kitchen—even if I want something that’s not a fridge-item. Like a pair of scissors. Hopefully I can keep with it. If not—you’ll be seeing a lot of spankings from here on out!

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Spring Break and the Curiosity of Spanking Parties

By April 13, 2009 Spanko Musings

Hi Bloggers,

Sorry I haven’t written in awhile—for some reason, Spring has always been my busiest time of year. Mostly because it’s the only time you can actually get out and do things in Austin. Like painting the house and doing yard work, home construction projects, and all the other things that make me sick.

I’ve been in Albuquerque as well—as my husband could easily get a job there with the sort of research he does. Let me tell you all—that was an emotional rollercoaster for us. The first couple of days we were there, he went to meetings that he didn’t enjoy, and we decided to drive around in the crappiest part of town. We also don’t like Adobe or Pueblo-style houses. At first, we thought it was ugly. By the way—Sante Fe is REALLY ugly if you don’t like Pueblo-style houses. Don’t even go there if that’s the case. It’s like the whole city was built on a theme. To me, it looked like an Afghan refugee camp. Yet, everyone I’ve ever known that’s gone there thinks it’s “gorgeous”.

But, by the end of the trip, we decided we liked Albuquerque. We found some normal houses, areas that we wouldn’t mind living, we bought a condo as an investment, too—that was an odd turn—but we had an enjoyable time.


I never know how much of my real-life I’m supposed to put in this blog. So work with me while I find the balance. My husband thinks that you guys might actually give a hoot about my real life, but I tend to think you just like the stuff about spankings. So we’ll do some tests and see, shall we?


I would love to hear about the spanking party that was held in Dallas on the 30th-31st. I wanted to go. I was even in Dallas at the time (for my sister-in-law’s B-day party)—but because of my reason for being there, I had to miss it. ABCD Webmasters, the company I work for, had a table there in the vendor’s fair, with catalogs and videos and everything else. I would have loved to run the vendor’s fair. Hopefully next year Bethany will ask me to do it.

My real question is what the hell happens at spanking parties? I would love someone to do a write-up commentary about one. I’m full of questions and curiosity about such events. I would love to go, too—my only rule is…


Not that the other thought isn’t fun and kinky—I write stories where people other than the heroine get spanked. But I feel that James and I have an intimacy through spankings that I would par near sex. I wouldn’t have sex with anyone else, so I wouldn’t want to be spanked by anyone else. Now, my knowledge about parties concerns me since I don’t know if I’m supposed to be pulled unexpectantly over someone’s knee. I don’t know. Next year, I’ll be giving a full report.

Either way, the vendor’s fair sounds absolutely awesome. I’m a spanking salesman at heart.


Oh, God. Do I! I’m writing it up right now. It’s going to be long, and will be posted in the next couple of days! Stay tuned!

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