"'Beast' or Famine"

Happy feelings. Everybody’s striving for happy feeeeelings (wiggling fingers sarcastically). I’m all for happy feelings. They’re fun. But they’re just a flash in the pan. Given a choice between a happy feeling now and long term happiNESS, I’d like to think I’d choose happiness – even if it means discomfort for a moment.

Happy feelings are a large part of my relationship with SugarAnne. I would say that it is the general tone of our relationship. And I’m thankful that we’re both contributors. Me, I’m the corny, dorky, silly sorta guy, and she, she’s the free spirit, blowing at the mercy of the wind, fun-loving gal. And the combo makes for a lot of happy feelings.

But when it comes to a spanking (unless it’s a “slap and tickle” or, an I’m “just sittin' here thinking” about spanking my girl), I am not concerned about happy feeeeelings. When SugarAnne is over my knee (or in some other vulnerable position) for punishment, I’m not in the happy feelings business. No, I-am-in-the-happi-NESS business.

In her post “Tuesday Chat”, SugarAnne surmised that yours truly may be viewed by some as "a strict disciplinarian with a permanent scowl on his face, a roar in his voice and a paddle glued to his hand". Whoa! What a picture! My first thought is that that scowl and that roar are probably a painful reaction to trying to scratch m’clackers with a damn paddle glued to my hand!

And, I have learned quiet as it’s kept, that in some chat circles (I don’t know who you are, but you certainly do) I am even referred to as the “beast”. No doubt a moniker playfully encouraged – if not lovingly perpetrated upon me by Her Royal Sweetness herself. But really, am I really a beast?

Here’s what RW (bless her heart) from The Renewed Wife, said in her comment to Sugar’s post:
“So far as how we see BabyMan”, she says, ”I can only speak for myself, but I don't see him as ‘a strict disciplinarian with a permanent scowl on his face, a roar in his voice and a paddle glued to his hand’ at all” (thanks RW). And then she adds with a gentle smirk, a raised eyebrow and a smidgen of reluctant but favorable betrayal, “(sorry, B'Man!)”.

Translation: “I know you wanna be ‘bad’ B’Man” (that’s bad as in “b-double a-d-bad” y’all) “but I can pretty much see through that. You’re actually a teddy bear. And oops, I apologize for letting your little secret out into the blogosphere”.

Hm. Beast? Teddy bear? “Teddy beast”? (shrug) I ain’t saying. This isn’t really an apologetic for either one. As a childhood friend used to say: “I’miz what I’miz; and I’ma’int what I’ma’int”. (Apologies to you grammar purists).

If there’s one thing I’miz: I am a MAN (insert beastly double fist pound to chiseled puffed out chest) who is operating on top of an underlying foundation of love; within the realm of “this thing we do”; under the over-arching consent of Her Royal Sweetness; for the benefit of our happiness. And that means that on occasion I am a man (pound-pound) who will FORsake momentary happy feelings, for THE sake of long-term happi-NESS. Obviously we would prefer to have both always, but sometimes it’s either/or.

Victor Hugo once said: "The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved” (okay, maybe I'm channeling Criminal Minds).

But I would rather SugarAnne know with absolute certainty that I love her deeply and am passionately concerned for our long-term happiness. We both agree that means "this-thing-we-do". Yep, I can make her feeeeeel happy for a moment by maybe letting her off the hook – hell, by letting me off the hook. Punishment is not a happy feeling for anybody over here. But I am persuaded that that would eventually lead to a famine in happiness. Go on call me a “beast” (el-o-el!) that’s okay.

But understand, it's either "beast" for famine.

"Going Nowhere Fast"

After nearly two years of blog silence (and lurking on Dd sites), it was one year ago today that I published my first official Dd post, “A Hypothetical Destination”. Yes, this is my de facto blogivesary!

To save you a click here is that short post in it's entirety:

“I wasn’t too surprised this morning when SugarAnne granted her “hypothetical” consent to a “hypothetical” domestic discipline style relationship (with a focus spanking). Even though a thick thread of submissiveness has been apparent over the 9 years we’ve been married, Sug’Anne is characterized by what I would call freedom of spirit. Not prone to “wildness” mind you – but to moving about life un-tethered by the “traditional” relational obligations of a telephone call during the day and a report about the day's happenings at night. So I have no idea how such a relationship will shape up over time. But the idea of folding her lovely shape over my knee time after time for "corrrection" is both intriguing, exhilarating and, well, exciting – for both of us.

The heavy – and heady – “hypothetical” responsibility does not escape me either. Of all the key considerations I’ve pondered (and I have pondered much), three very important elements of this "hypothetical" domestic disciplind relationship seem to rise to the top: 1) the need for clear and honest communication is critical; 2) the importance of being trusted is indispensible; and 3) continual growth of mutual respect for each other is invaluable. Those three noble, but fragile, ideals are constantly strived for in most relationships but, it seems, are never fully arrived at. Like playing golf, bowling and ballroom dancing – you rarely feel at the top of your game in these three. And you are always, always in need of improvement.

I wonder: Can I be the Dominant I desire to be? Can I be the "Top" that is screaming to break out? Can I be the Dominant that she would need me to be? Can I be the "Top" that she is silently screaming for? And, most importantly: Can I show sufficient appreciation for such a wonderful gift?”

Over the past year something has changed. Somewhere along the way we went from a “hypothetical” to an "actual" domestic discipline couple. And over the past year something has remained the same. For one, the questions haven't changed. I still constantly wrestle with them and I rarely feel like I’m walking in the fullness of my “Developing Domdentity”.

That’s not a bad thing at all. It always brings me back to something else that hasn't changed: the foundation of our journey. Namely those aforementioned three things:  1) the need for clear and honest communication; 2) the importance of being trusted; and 3) continual growth of mutual respect for each other. It's like I've walked a long and and yet, I'm still at the beginning. 

Is "this thing we do" a human hamster wheel that just goes 'round and 'round? If it is, that's okay. Because one thing's for sure: this past year has made my relationship "legs" stronger for this journey; it has made my body readier for any sacrifice; and, it has made my heart healthier for loving SugarAnne. Going nowhere fast is leading to everywhere I want to be. 

"Love Our Lurkers V"

Thanks to Bonnie over at My Bottom Smarts, bloggers in the spanking community are celebrating "Love Our Lurkers Day V". Yep, for the fifth straight year (this is our first) those of us who do "this thing we do" are reaching out to show our appreciation for all the folks that we KNOW are reading but have never commented. Both SugarAnne and I just want to thank all of you folks for all of those hits on our hit counters! And at the same time encourage you to make a comment today because comments are so encouraging to us bloggers. In fact... 

...our eyes are hungry to hear from you. Soooooo....

...If you're out there peeking in

Complain or praise it's not a sin.

Post your comment here or there,
Or send an email, we don't care.

B'Man wants you to express
What you're thinking more or less.

And SugarAnne is waiting for
Your brilliant comments to explore.

We told the story 'bout the day
We jumped into the Dd way.

We tell the stories, all are true,
'Bout how we do "this thing we do".

If you've seen me, then you've seen her,
So tell us which one you prefer.

If you've seen her, then you've seen me,
You've seen her draped across my knee.

So post your comment, tell us why
You stop to read and then go by.

You've never ever stopped to say
That we have made, or spoiled your day.

So tell us that you think we're cute,
Or that you think B'Man's a brute.

So mock and jeer and then poke fun,
(okay, we might delete that one).

We want to know if we amaze you,
If our essays even phase you,

If you think we're kind of weird,
Or if you've cried or laughed and cheered.

We want to know how high we rank.
We want to know who we should thank.

We want to know who's hand to shake,
For whom to bake our "thank you" cake.

For even though you've lurked around
And never made a freakin' sound,

And even if you comment late,
It's you that we appreciate!

Pssst...we know you're out there. Watching. It's okay to comment anonymously (and of course, regulars are welcome too).

"A Key to the Pity"

Sugar's had a string of bad luck with keys this year. A few months ago she accidentally locked them in the car. "Yours truly" had to hightail it home for lunch to let her in. It could happen to anybody. Circumstance.

One day the police came to our door. They had found her keys sticking out of the keyhole in the trunk and looked up her license plate number to return them.  Consequence.

Then, along with everything she owned, her keys were stolen from her locker at the gym. We replaced what we needed to replace and changed locks where locks needed to be change. Circumstance.

A couple of Sundays ago she, um, well, er, uh, she locked them in the car - AGAIN.  I raced out to her location. The old wire hanger trick didn't work (I'm a quarter of a century away from being criminally incli - er,  I mean skilled in that area). It just so happens that the friend she was with (whose keys were also in the car) called AAA and the keys were saved. But not until the next day. Um, Consequence.

Interestingly enough, the friend (who doesn't know about "this thing we do" but is aware that I helped Sugar quit smoking with spanking), would ask her, "Are you going to get spanked for this?" You think she might be a little suspicious?

Over the years I've teased SugarAnne every now and then that on her gravestone the epitaph would read:

"B'Man, where are my keys?"

If I had ten dollars for each time I've said (partly jokingly, largely suggesting), "Aren't they in the spot where you always keep your keys", we'd be sitting pretty damn good financially.

The other day Sugar called me at work. "I don't want you to be mad, 'k?" Long story short of it? She was out on the beach walking her mother's dog and...and...and... You guessed it: she had lost her keys.

Searched high and low said she.
Found not hide nor hair of key.
(Forgive the flash poetry)

Fortunately I didn't have to leave the office this time. She was able to get into the building. I saw her online just a little bit later:

[Chat log B'Man and SugarAnne, star date October 2010: the lost keys]

B'Man says:
You there? [several minutes pass]

Sugar says:
I'm here.

B'Man says:
oh...okay.

Sugar says:
I just got back from taking the socks to Scottie. [Scottie is one of our served and loved in need]

B'Man says:
Oh great. That was nice.

How was your workout?

Sugar says:
it was okay.
got through it.

B'Man says:
that's what's important.
good.

i want you to "girl up". i want to settle this key thing right away when i get home.
[she's to be in a skirt and regulation bikini panties which I will peel back like skin and "bake her potato"]

Sugar says:
ok 
[she knew the command would come sooner or later. I wanted the benefit of a few hours anticipation]

B'Man says:
do you have your replacement keys on a key ring yet? [she'd made copies after the AAA incident]

Sugar says:
yes. The hardware store gives you rings for free.

B'Man says:
ok

i will order the building key.  [an irreplaceable thirty-five dollar key that has to be ordered]
 




"Key Pete" magnetic key holder

 

Sugar says:

I'm sorry. [self pity]

B'Man says:

i know. we'll be fine. [It's good to have "a key to the pity".]

Needless to say, there was some "weeping and gnashing of teeth".

So far it looks like we may have re-written that epitaph:

"B'Man, where are my keys?"

"My keys? I know exactly where my keys are!"

Consequence.

"A Word: Praise"

I’m a big fan of ballroom dancing so I rarely miss “Dancing with the Stars”. But if Mark Ballas don’t stop kissing on Bristol (“The Pistol”) Palin I think I’ll have to stop watching. The cat is creepin’ me out! Every time I turn around he’s planting those “soup coolers” of his on the girl’s cheek, temple, shoulder, whatever. Geez, she’s not a frickin’ racehorse, or a show dog for heaven’s sake. And she sure the hell ain’t Jesus. She’s just a person – a person who’s learning to dance.

Check out this post inspiring quote from the book, “The Way of the Superior Man”, by David Deida:

“The masculine grows by challenge, but the feminine grows by praise. A man must be unabashed and expressed in his appreciation for his woman. Praise her freely.”

Yes I know, men grow by praise too (and women by challenge). But when I’m reading for the purpose of betterment of “self in relationship", I’m focused more on what I can do to make things better – not, what can be done for me. And to that end it is important for me to remember to praise Sugar (like they vote in some cities) early and often.

When it comes to “this thing we do” there’s always praise for obedience. Praise for obedience is a good thing (“good girl” – I love saying that) and should always be tendered – and “freely” at that. But I’m not talking about that. In a lot of ways that's (the obedience) just response to stimuli and pain avoidance. Is that real growth?

It would also be easy to attempt to fluff her up with false praise and insincere compliments. And equally easy to fall into the trap of just praising her for what I like about her body. In regard to the body, women can often be vulnerable and susceptible to the innocuous effervescence of empty compliments. Besides, Sugar is too smart for me to get away with telling her “lies…lies…sweet little lies”. She’s more than her body (which, by the way, fits my sexual grid of attraction to a capital “T” – can you say, “Scha-wiiing!!”).

I’m more interested in “loving her up” not pumping her up. Sugar is a strong and intelligent (mind), loving and compassionate (heart) woman of faith (spiritual). And it is the free praise and recognition of all of these aspects that spawns, encourages and contributes to growth of the whole well-rounded person. That's where I want to be in my praise.

I don’t know if Mark and Bristol are in relationship. Maybe Bristol’s thriving under this sort of praise. But if I see him kiss “The Pistol” more than once just one more time, I won’t be able to stop the puke that I’ve been swallowing from week to week from spilling out of my face! (Everybody now: “ee-yew”).

Mark's creepiness notwithstanding, praise is pretty important stuff - especially in a relationship.

"'Something Certain' and 'A Certain Something'"

“Find the pills, or, find the paddle”. I was direct but not stern. Channeling Ben Stein’s dry, matter of fact delivery (“Anybody?” “Buehler”), I let the words, rather than my tone of voice, carry the promise of the “consequences”.
Sugar searched for a moment but stopped to plead her case: “Sleepy…no pills left…I’ll find them tomorrow”. I didn’t feel the usual pang of anxiety that comes with anticipating her anger (I am often more concerned about that than I let on). And it’s not that I didn’t care – wait a minute. Yes it is. I really didn’t care if she got mad.

“Find the pills, or, find the paddle”, ole greasy-lipped Ben Stein deadpanned to her attempts to weasle out of looking. It’s not that I didn’t care. It’s just that I care too much about her to actually care if this would make her mad. I knew this was for her own good. It was good for her health. It was good for her joy and, ultimately, it was good for OUR joy.

She searched a bit more but the pills turned out to be like “a feather of the state bird”. Let me ask you: Why is it that a feather of the state bird is always the last thing you need from the list to win the scavenger hunt? And, does anyone ever find a feather of the state bird?

The paddle was easier to find.

She had no problem kneeling onto the pillow at my feet. I must say the flesh was strong (even if the spirit was still trying to weasel out of it). I had no qualms about scolding her. She offered no resistance in pulling down her panties. I felt no reservation about folding her over my knee. With her ass raised up in a deliciously vulnerable position, the paddle rained down, with escalating intensity, stroke upon stroke on just the right spot for maximum effect.

We didn’t talk about it afterward. She whimpered off to bed where she slept well. And when I woke up a football game was watching me. Other than her post (and this one of course) it hasn't really been necessary to (insert air quotes) “CommuuuuniCate” as they say. Not this time. This was one of those times when we knew everything we needed to know about the whole situation.

There was “something certain” about the whole thing, namely, that her pills need to always be available and, that her husband will always love her dearly. And there was “a certain something” about the whole thing, namely, her lovely and willful submission (the protest of tears notwithstanding) and, my willing and loving dominance. We both knew that this was both right AND the right time for this precious encounter. It was as if all the forces of the TTWD universe had conspired to heighten our personal resolves and bring us to the intersection where “something certain” meets “a certain something”.