If the slog was on schedule like he’s supposed to be, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But sometimes he catches us by surprise. But even then it’s not so bad. Even then the worst part are the cramps. I used to chart his arrival but he’s just been too erratic over the past couple years. Rather than every 28 days, the bum shows up whenever he wants to. Most times he sends a messenger: depression, anxiety and – oh my God! – easy irritation and emotional hyper-sensitivity. “Clyde” himself is not so bad. But his messenger? I wanna kick his messenger’s ass. We have a sneaky suspicion that “Clyde”, her monthly “visitor” – that bum - is coming home. I’ve been trying to deal with this tramp’s intrusions for ten years. And for the most part he’s been flipping me off double time.
I imagine it COULD be the seasonal depression I mentioned in my previous post. Maybe I spoke too soon. Yesterday she woke up in a funk. She seems like she’s headed for the cliff. She’s doing everything she can to avoid the drop. She’s plugged in that huge sun lamp she bought last year. Light therapy they call it. The thing shines like a fucking nebula. Just the glow from under the bedroom door will have you absentmindedly pulling down shades and reaching for light switches all over the frickin house. I mean seriously! A little heavenly music and you’d think dear little baby Jesus – the LIGHT of the whole world – was in there with her. But it helps. I don’t think its depression though. I KNOW those storm clouds when I see them. I suspect “Clyde” is coming home.
I’ve been anticipating this challenge since we started exploring TTWD. I’ve wondered how I would approach it. I’m not asking a bunch of questions so I can locate the “problem” and announce it to her. When you tell a woman she’s PMSing it NEVER seems to help. No matter how right you are. Amen? Amen. I just want to let her know that she is loved – in spite of this nefarious visitor.
So I gave her a little boost physically – pressing my naked frame down upon her comforter-covered body. I jumpstarted her emotionally – singing a poor parody (and I mean poor) of “The Shadow of Your Smile”, i.e. “the shadow of my ass…” (because of that bright ass light casting a shadow on the curtains) “…is in the window”. It helped, if only a little bit. But I did notice a gleam in her eyes (in spite of the supernova over there) when just before I leaving for work I said, “Maybe I’ll rub your booty when I get home. That might make you feel better”. She looked up at me with a soft smile and a ray of hope and nodded, “Mm hm”.
When I got home she was still a bit bummed out. And “Clyde’s” not home – yet. Cool. She’s wearing regulation panties when I walk in the door. This is rare. But she promptly puts on her jeans. I figure she doesn’t want her wired spanko husband to get the wrong idea. The last thing she needs is a “good girl” spanking gone bad.
We have had two very difficult – for her and for me – punishment spankings last week. But last night I gave SugarAnne a lovingly firm, paddle peppered, over the knee “good girl” spanking of therapeutic proportions. Pushing her behind up on command she willingly took all that was given. And when I was done she willingly gave all that I could take. And she felt much, much better.
I imagine it COULD be the seasonal depression I mentioned in my previous post. Maybe I spoke too soon. Yesterday she woke up in a funk. She seems like she’s headed for the cliff. She’s doing everything she can to avoid the drop. She’s plugged in that huge sun lamp she bought last year. Light therapy they call it. The thing shines like a fucking nebula. Just the glow from under the bedroom door will have you absentmindedly pulling down shades and reaching for light switches all over the frickin house. I mean seriously! A little heavenly music and you’d think dear little baby Jesus – the LIGHT of the whole world – was in there with her. But it helps. I don’t think its depression though. I KNOW those storm clouds when I see them. I suspect “Clyde” is coming home.
I’ve been anticipating this challenge since we started exploring TTWD. I’ve wondered how I would approach it. I’m not asking a bunch of questions so I can locate the “problem” and announce it to her. When you tell a woman she’s PMSing it NEVER seems to help. No matter how right you are. Amen? Amen. I just want to let her know that she is loved – in spite of this nefarious visitor.
So I gave her a little boost physically – pressing my naked frame down upon her comforter-covered body. I jumpstarted her emotionally – singing a poor parody (and I mean poor) of “The Shadow of Your Smile”, i.e. “the shadow of my ass…” (because of that bright ass light casting a shadow on the curtains) “…is in the window”. It helped, if only a little bit. But I did notice a gleam in her eyes (in spite of the supernova over there) when just before I leaving for work I said, “Maybe I’ll rub your booty when I get home. That might make you feel better”. She looked up at me with a soft smile and a ray of hope and nodded, “Mm hm”.
When I got home she was still a bit bummed out. And “Clyde’s” not home – yet. Cool. She’s wearing regulation panties when I walk in the door. This is rare. But she promptly puts on her jeans. I figure she doesn’t want her wired spanko husband to get the wrong idea. The last thing she needs is a “good girl” spanking gone bad.
We have had two very difficult – for her and for me – punishment spankings last week. But last night I gave SugarAnne a lovingly firm, paddle peppered, over the knee “good girl” spanking of therapeutic proportions. Pushing her behind up on command she willingly took all that was given. And when I was done she willingly gave all that I could take. And she felt much, much better.
I still suspect “Clyde” is coming home. And he'll always intrude. But for right now, I’ve kicked his messenger’s ass!
I think you should explore more what it means for a spanking to 'go wrong,' because it's my suspicion that you're asking too much, or perhaps misguided things from yourselves when a spanking 'goes wrong' for you. I also have PTSD, some depression, etc., and for me and my man, spankings don't go wrong because we don't really need for a spanking to go any way in particular. We just experience what comes up and eventually talk about it. So... when he spanks me, we're very much in the moment, just feeling and thinking whatever we need to feel and think, and we're not judging it. We just enjoy the feelings and the sensation...
ReplyDeleteI would say that what happens for me during spanking is not about the pain as much as it is about what is going on in my head. He spanks me for his own needs, for stress relief, for erotic reasons, for emotional reasons... but he never does it 'wrong.' He is a very good spanker, it has to be said, but I don't know if that's why it's never 'wrong.' It's just that it's not about punishment or some expected end-goal. What comes up, comes up, and we deal with it and have some very intense discussions about what we're learning as we go.
Anonymous: I've learned alot since then. You and your man are in a fortunate place. Thanks for the comment.
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