I traveled recently

A few weeks ago, I left town to visit friends who live in the other side of the country. As a holiday gift, I bought my Dom tuition for a carving class, which took place while I was out of town. You see, my Daddy really likes fixing up old things – bringing old wood furniture back to life, scouring and re-seasoning rusty old cast iron skillets, helping me clean up an old spIMG_2657inning wheel (really). When I saw that a local school was offering a spoon carving class, I knew it would be right up her alley (and, quite selfishly, that I could get to share what she eventually created).

When I planned to return home to Sir, she made it clear that she couldn’t wait to get me back over her knee. Daddy picked me up from the airport, and fed me a lovingly cooked-all-day nourishing meal, and encouraged me to promptly clean up and meet her in the bedroom. As per her request, I started on my hands and knees as she removed my wrap skirt and began to spank me with her hand carved wooden spatula, and spoon. Perhaps some of you paddle fans can guess by looking at them that these really sting. They’re the closest sensation to a leather crop (and it’s handle) that I’ve experienced with wood. Daddy alternates from my thighs to my ass, from side to side, from one implement to the next. Then, she joins me in bed and beckons me over to her lap.

She spreads my ass cheeks to get at my most tender bits. I’m so happy to be back with my Dom that I squeal and whimper in her lap, playfully holding on to her hips and ass while I try my best to keep still for her. She checks my pussy to see how wet I am. After a few bare-handed spanks, Daddy is able to push right into me with three fingers, blissfully twisting and driving my hips in circles on her lap. She gets up, firmly tells me “Lay down.” and I obediently flip to my backside for her. “Open up for me,” she instructs, as I take a few deep breaths and receive. She delves deeper and fuller into me, until I’m taking her whole fist and begging to come. I absolutely lose my mind when my Daddy fists me. The intensity of my return to her, the stings from her carefully crafted implements, my submission to her growing deeper with each intricate movement of her hand in me. I burst into tears, and my Daddy gently says, “Come for me, baby girl.”

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Upcoming

Daddy was right when she said some protocols tend to fit in seamlessly with our lives, and others are harder to keep up with. For me (and for many), D/s is a practice, and I find our protocols especially grounding when I am overworked, tired, and not feeling well. Sticking with an agreement we’ve made helps keep me organized. Even my best friend agreed that my Dominant makes me more efficient. As with any practice, there are ebbs and flows – times when it feels like hard work and times when the effort greatly pays off and things feel as though they were meant to be.

Among our protocols is my 10pm bedtime. I occasionally miss the mark, but typically only for my unpredictable and on-call job. However, I always manage to check in with my Dom, as requested, when I get to bed and when I wake up each day. This way, my Dominant not only knows that she is my first thought in the morning and among my final thoughts before bed, but she also is able to keep track of how much rest I’m getting. Neither of us are great with sleep debt, but Daddy keeps track of her girl, and knows (without asking) when I need more support from her in a string of busy weeks.

That being said, we have some news for you, blog followers. We’re moving in together! Yes, Daddy and I miraculously managed to find a spacious, affordable apartment for two (plus her kitties) near one of our favorite nature spots in this city. Our recently created list of protocols involves much more frequent blog posts, and I look forward to being in touch with you on a more consistent basis. I have major butterflies in my stomach, thinking about how our dynamic will play into this move. Keep your eyes out for Domestically Disciplined becoming even more domestic by the end of this summer.

With love,

her submissive

Protocol

My sub gets emails from SugarButch.net and most recently forwarded me one about Protocols. We’ve tried, failed, and succeeded at different protocols in the last year. Some things have stuck well, such as her referring to me as Sir or Daddy, kneeling for me when she brings me a beverage, and asking me for permission to join me at the table, the couch, or the bed. Others have been harder to keep up with, such as nightly back rubs, morning head, and daily spankings.

We’re going to try to come up with more protocols for our relationship in the coming weeks. I hope to share them here but also to get more feedback about what kinds of protocols other D/s couples have had succeed implementing. Any takers?

 

Purple Heart

Daddy gave me a nice, drawn out spanking today. Often, she hits so hard that I am reduced to tears in just a few strikes. It depends on the implement, her mood, my tolerance on a given day. Today, we were on my bed (with my toys) and knew I had to get ready to go to work in about an hour. She signals for me to drop my pants, and position myself on her lap. This placed my face near my little bedside stool, and smelling the sweet beeswax candle nearby was centering and relaxing.

Sir takes my purple heart (peltogyne) wood paddle and begins to spank me, up and down the thighs and on each side of my ass. She chooses to linger in one spot near my sits bones for just a moment before moving on, rhythmically, giving me little stings with the wood over my panties and on my bare skin. I sense her choosing to move around, knowing that a few hard hits in one spot would break my concentration. Today, I am able to stay still for her, breathing and gratefully sighing some Yes, Sir’s and Thank You, Daddy’s between the discomfort.

She slides my panties down my legs and over my pulled-up wool socks (because my apartment is so chilly) and proceeds to spank me with her bare hand. There is nothing quite like a bare-bottomed, bare-handed spanking. I am grateful for the break from the wood and Daddy gets me, hard, rhythmically, in the middle of my ass in a way that makes me feel like she’s fucking me from behind. She spreads my thighs wider and spanks my pussy, too. I know she thinks I’m enjoying myself too much and moves back to the wooden paddle.

This purple heart stings more than other wooden paddles my Daddy has. I can tell Sir is working me harder, but still deciding to spread the impact across my thighs, hips and ass cheeks to keep the spanking going on for longer. After several more minutes with the paddle, Sir breaks to give me more rhythmic, bare-handed spanks and I can tell she’s getting a little worked up.

After another round with the wood, I’m beginning to whimper and squirm a little as she decides to hit my sit spot, repeatedly, with more force than before. I’m always trying to work on my concentration and how to take her beatings with (some) grace. At this point, and I’m almost about to tear up or writhe out of my place on her lap. She reaches over and grabs the bottle of lube. Daddy parts my ass cheeks and fills me with her fingers. “I like when you open up for me,” she says, gliding with ease. It’s amazing how comfortably my body can take an ass fucking like that after a drawn out spanking session.

Tethered

My Dom is, as she said, still out of town. I miss her.

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Shy and hiding my charm

I know that even in class, as I lay back on a yoga mat and try to focus inward, on my breathing, I feel her collar subtly on my neck and am deeply rooted, relaxed. Memories of her presence float gently in and out of my consciousness, and I am happy, knowing that I will be back with her, in service to her, in only a few more days. We’ve been extra-gentle with my bottom (in some ways) and Daddy has me practicing with my plug every day to get ready for her. I’m also not allowed to give myself orgasms until she gets her hands on me.

Now, masturbating is one of my favorite things, but I’m happy to hold out if it means I’m doing my very best for Daddy. (That’s pretty much my only reason, ever, to not masturbate.)

It’s my bedtime, everyone. 🙂

-her girl

 

The Thanksgiving Fantasy

I am sitting in the car on the way to my family gathering, without my submissive. It’s times like these I fantasize about hosting our own holiday together.

In my fantasy, our invitees are all kinky. momma wears a half apron over her 50s inspired dress and offers cocktails I’ve made to our guests. She’s been instructed to plan ahead and maintain a scheduled day. But when it’s time to serve dinner, she tells me it’s going to be fifteen minutes late. I know exactly how to fill the time.

Guests, I say, gather around the dining room. My submissive will now learn a lesson on timing and commitments. Bring me the wooden spoon. Once momma returns holding the spoon we have hanging on display in the kitchen, I have her bend over the nicely set dining table and I lift the bottom of her dress up, tucking it into the strap of her apron. It stays in place nicely, revealing black lacy underwear. I pull those down around her thighs.

Everyone is watching with mildly amused, eager eyes. It’s nothing they haven’t seen before, but it sets the stage for some after dinner play. I give her fifteen hard strokes with the spoon, one for each late minute, and have her count them off for the room. When we’re done, I turn her around and look at her red, blushing, face and shiny eyes. Thank you, Sir, she says. I’ll bring dinner right out.