The Edge

Ok, so definitely using this an opportunity to vent. You're more than welcome to skip this most, since I'm hot as a firecracker, and it's probably going to be a little more..uhm...pissed? Than my usual posts.

Not at Steven--let me be clear from the get-go about that. The man may, in fact, be an angel. Or a saint. Or maybe an angelic saint. Anyway.

I may have mentioned before that we're both interpreting majors. We're in the same ASL 4 class, naturally...and, it's finals week. This particular professor...well, she really likes hands-on kinds of finals. Plays completely in ASL for the school of the deaf nearby. Crafts and games for the kids there. That kind of thing.

So, unsurprisingly, she made a hands-on final for us. Along with a presentation and such, we're to make a commercial in ASL, advertising a product.

In our group are two good friends of ours, R and K. Now, normally, we all work together pretty ok...R and K aren't just besties, but Steven and I can usually run pretty good interference. This time, however(we've known about this for almost a month and a half, I'd say), R had hit "a depressive cycle". First off, I'm not terribly sure I even believe him. God knows he's temperamental at the best of times, but he's been in quite a lot of trouble with the school lately, so he's been even worse.

K has taken the brunt of the project on, and has been super eager to meet and get this commercial worked out. R's leaving for France Thursday, she's leaving two days or so after that for Orlando. Plus, she's had other finals.  Understandably, she's feeling the pressure.

When it comes to classes, Steven and I are pretty laid back. We weren't freaking out or anything, but we wanted to knock that thing out, also.

Fast-forward. R has been skipping classes. He's been dodging phone calls. He's the one with the video camera, plus, everyone has to be in the commercial. No one can reach him. He finally shows up, 45 minutes late, to one of our meetings. He trashes everything we try and bring up. K's mad and leaves, but there is a tentative idea in place.

Now, we're back to no one, not even the prof, being able to get in touch with him. He won't meet with us, he won't give us an availability, nothing. For weeks, this goes on. Finally, we tell him a time to be there, and request that he brings his camera. It's after class, and we know he has nothing else to do. It was supposed to be a quick little thing.

He didn't bring the camera, said he didn't feel like doing it, and completely went off on K in front of crowd. Fortunately, most were deaf and didn't hear the disturbance. After that K refused to interact with him at all. "You guys work it out with him. Then, come tell me what's going on."

Fast-forward again. The project is due tomorrow. We heard from R yesterday. He sent a text giving his availability, and the deadline of when he was willing to have it done. Monday, neither of us were available. Go figure. We both work for a living.

Today, he said he was free after noon. We have an agreement with our prof to help with her ASL one final tonight, but other than that, the the day was free. We told him Tuesday would be best for us. Nine hours later, we receive another text, saying he planned to do it at 11 or 1130. Now, by this time, Steven and I had realized we had a day to ourselves.

Let me be totally clear: lately, I've felt on the edge of some kind of breakdown. I work two jobs, volunteer, babysit, go to school, tend to 3 animals, and try my hardest to keep a house up.  I need a break. Badly. Steven and I had decided this would be the day for it. We made plans, ending them early in the afternoon, so we could go make this project, then go on to the ASL 1 final. 11:30 would definitely be cramping our style.

I texted R: "Geez, that's pretty early...we were hoping we could do it later. Like 3:15?"  I got one back several hours later.

"If we push it back that far...it forces me to rush my day. Morning is the best option." Livid that he was being so demanding for something that we had worked so hard to get done way before this, with little success in getting him to cooperate, I called Steven, who was on his way home from work.

"Really," I told him, "I'm disappointed, I really need a break, and I was looking so forward to spending some time, just me and you. Can you call and deal with him?" Bless his heart, I know he tried. But, he was unwilling to really push the issue, because we couldn't afford for R to bail. AGAIN.

I called K, before I heard back from Steven. She was of the same mind as I was. It would be harder on her to do it in the morning, because she had a final at 2, and worst case scenario, if his didn't let out till noon, it would be really pushing it for us to all get to her apartment to film it, do so, and then her get back to school.

Long story short...we're shooting at 11:45 this morning.

When, I heard, I was irate. I screamed and cried and pitched a huge fit; understand, so you don't think I'm crazy--I'm desperate for a break. The last day off I had, where I didn't have school, one job or the other, wasn't baby sitting, or wasn't horribly sick...was July 13th of last year, when I started my second job. I'm DESPERATE for a break.

Instead of spanking me or chiding me for being ridiculous, Steven held me and loved me. Then, when I had moved to the just quietly crying stage, he pulled me to my feet.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go for a drive. Trust me." And we drove. And drove. And drove. All the way to my favorite outlook, miles and miles, and a little over half an hour away. It was beautiful and dark, and the whole way, he listened to me and all my fears and frustrations. Right before we got out, he grabbed my hand. "Listen. I love you. A lot, ok? And I'm not going to let you have a break-down of any kind. Ok? You're fine, and I've got you. I promise."

I, for one, believe him.


When we got out of the car at my all-time favorite overlook, the mountains jutted up into a starless sky. The sliver of a moon cast a faint light down onto the water that cupped into the base of the mountains. Trees were barely discernible, one from the other, as they lined the earth, leaning down towards black water, the stage for faint glimmers of moonlight. (Isn't it beautiful? Now, picture it at night).

And, he held me. I believed him even more. He DOES have me, and I'm not going to fall apart.

Sidenote: On the way home, we saw wild piggies. They were super cute, even if  they ran off quickly, and Steven wouldn't let me get out of the car to get a closer look. :)

Anyway. We're leaving soon to go see R and K and get this thing knocked out. Our day is shot, and I'm still quite upset about it. But, saying anything to him rude, mean, angry, etc, is a spankable offense. Apparently, we're just going to get this thing done and moving on.

I guess calling him a selfish son of a bitch is right out, then.

Dang. 

I Remember, Back In The Day...

You know, Kypr the Little Messenger and I remember the day, way back when, that Steven didn't really know how to spank. Or, rather, was just plain unwilling to make it hurt.

Sometimes, we miss those days. Usually on days like today, where all the mad and brat is gone, and there's nothing left but a very, very sore tail end.

Yesterday, I worked 13 hours at a restaurant, and I was sat with multiple parties, one being a 24 top. I was exhausted and frustrated and, where I work, you only get "smoke breaks" if you smoke. If you don't...we'll, you must not need a break at all...right?

I was almost finished, and I stepped outside to find a girl I work with so she could sign me. All of a sudden, that seat on the back dock seemed mighty appealing. Plus, some of you may remember that I have a little problem with smoking.

I bummed a couple off some friends and sat down to chat it up with the regular smokers. On a whim, I called Steven to ask him if we needed anything else from the store besides toilet paper and buns.

"Oh, are you off already, baby?"

"Uhm, not quite." There was a pause, pregnant with a sudden tension.

"You aren't smoking, are you?" And, I don't know what got into me. The complete lack of desire to be spanked for my wrongdoing over took me.

"No, of course not. I just popped outside for a minute to get a signature, and thought I'd call."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep." And, then, a friend--"Grace--when did you start smoking?" I shushed him and hurried to get off the phone. Steven asked me three more times. I lied each time.

When I went inside, I squirted lemon juice on my hands and in my mouth to cut the smell of the smoke and finished up. He texted me, asking again. Again, I told him of course I wasn't smoking, he was paranoid.

I clocked out and went to the store. But, as soon as I walked into the house, he met me at the door, expecting our usual affectionate greeting....but, I wanted a shower, wanted to rinse the smell of my guilt off. He looked me in the eye and asked yet again. I laughed him off, and made for the shower. He cut me off and asked again with the same results.

Finally, he pulled away. "Come on, then."

"Come on? Why??"

"For not telling me." What the...??


"Ok, fine, I smoked a couple."

"Ok. Come on."

"WHY? I just told you!"

"Well, now you're getting spanked for smoking AND for lying to me about it." It was a particularly dreadful spanking, with plenty of lecturing and sit spot swats thrown in. "You know how I feel about lying!" he chided at one point.

"Actually," I said, hoping for a reprieve, "We've never talked about it before." A pause, then a flurry of sharp  swats with that damn spoon, right at the tops of my thighs.

"Ok, here then. I loathe lying. I simply detest it. It breaks down trust, and it shows a kind of arrogance and lack of regard that says you're going to come up with a story so good that I have to believe you. How can I trust you when you're lying to me?"



All in all, a most unpleasant evening. :( Fixed now, of course...

Save for what's left.

A very, very sore tail end.

And a fond memory of when it was only a few swats over shorts.

Sigh.

Bring It On!

Thank God.

I have to say, they were awful. The endless conversation, with me over his knee, naturally...sucked. But, you know...we're better. He talked me through it, he walked me through it. He forgave me totally and completely and without reserve.

He's a saint, my man.

He's been super affectionate, constantly wheeling me around for a kiss, his hand never gone from mine or from my waist. He's been super snuggly, and amazingly sweet.



Like, it's soooo over...

Which, before DD...would have been impossible. I doubt we've ever had a fight quite of this magnitude. There was screaming and slapping(ok, only once, on my part...the rest was on his, to a very sensitive rear, so it may n not count). There were tears and turning around to walk out. There was withdrawal and wise-cracks. Sarcasm and separation. It was ugly all around. I said more than a dozen hurtful things...Stormy calls them "throwing bombs", and I've yet to find a better way to put it.

But, he spanked me, and it's over.

And that blows my mind. He just...forgives me. Poof. It still amazes me. Even after several months of DD(not forever, by any stretch of the imagination...but you'd think it was long enough to grasp the concept of misdeed, discussion, punishment, forgiveness, progression...), it still is mind-boggling to me.

I started my streak over by the way. I'm doing just fine. I haven't been spanked, and I've loved it.

He's been all about warnings and helping stay doing well, too. It's been a really close, sweet time for us. And  , I'm loving it. Here's to hoping it continues on like this, smooth sailing, for quite a while.

Bring it on, Month. :)

My Crusades: A Miserable Life Choice

I almost didn't survive.

Ok...so that's a little bit of an exaggeration. But, certainly it was one of the worst, and most deserved, spankings I've ever received.

Now, I won't say what I was originally being spanked for, because it's one of those issues that Steven and I consider to be very personal and that we have different opinions on, and are still working through. But, suffice it to say, I got a pretty awful spanking the night before last. When he was finished, though, I had all my walls up. We went to bed...and woke up at 4:30 in the morning to start fighting again. Like, I woke up to him spanking me. I didn't handle it well in the slightest. My language went waaaayyy down hill...and, let me tell you, I've never been more fortunate for a man that doesn't fool with mouth soaping!

But, again, even with all these "Unfair Spankings"(not that, in retrospect it was quite as unfair as I believed) posts popping up recently, I "toughed  it out" until he finished, and then slammed those walls right back up. I told him I didn't want his affection, his touch, or his comfort. I just wanted a shower. So, I went in the bathroom and climbed into the shower. I stayed, crying, until the water ran cold. Then, I turned it off and sat down in the floor of it, and just kept on crying.

Finally, after I had completely air-dried, Steven came in. "I think I've given you enough time," he said. "Come to bed. Now." I followed, and we went to sleep(probably 7:30 in the morning), but we didn't touch. Nine o' clock rolls around, and we're getting up to go to our respective jobs. And, it starts again. Verbally, I'm blasting him. Physically, he's scorching my backside.And, I really am not at all sure what got into me. It was hurting dreadfully, and I yanked up, livid.

I turned around. And I slapped him.

His face shot red with anger, and he pointed to the corner. "I think you need to go stand there for a while." His voice was little more than a growl, and you'd THINK I would have realized the depth of my mistake at this point. I didn't.

He ended up putting on Capsician Cream for me to get through work with, and placing a few well-aimed swats to heat it up before I left.

Even still, the entire day was a text battle. I was cruel. I was raised in a family that, when we're fighting, we fight dirty. I accused him of horrible things. I told him our entire situation was something we should just give up on. I told him he never really wanted me anyway, and this was a perfect scapegoat. I told him to quit pretending we were ok.

"Oh, I'm not pretending anything. We are nowhere near ok; I'll let you know when my ears stop ringing." That was the first I felt of a twinge of regret.

Still, more poison from me: "At least my cooks want me. They haven't had their hands off me yet." All in all, I reached a whole new level of atrocious and hurtful.

It kinda reminds me of the Crusades. You can do such horrible things, if you have the "armor" of feeling like you're right and have been wronged. And, I did.

Right before I came home, I asked how the night was going to go. "A lot of spanking, some chatting, some lecturing." Funnily enough, I was almost comforted. The day caught up with  me, and I realized alllll the horrible, hurtful things that I'd said and done.

And, you know. That's pretty much how the night went. Except he sent me to the corner for a while, after a warm-up, and told me I was going to have to answer two questions when I came out. The first: why what I had done was detrimental to our relationship. The second: Why giving up on us wasn't an option.

I came out with an answer to the first. The second, though, I told him WAS an option. We weren't married. We have no children. He could walk out the door any time. And I asked him why it wasn't, if it wasn't.

"Because I love you. I can see myself spending the rest of my life with you. I love the life I have with you. And, I'm not going anywhere." He told me to stop being so afraid of something that I tried to make it that, just to get it over with, basically.

Emotionally, yesterday was trying for both of us. I proved how truly hurtful I could be, and he proved that he was, as always, my rock. He loves me anyway, though I'm so, so ashamed of how I reacted, responded, and behaved. He certainly didn't deserve any of that.

As to the spanking part---I'm honestly just not at all sure when I'll be able to sit comfortably again.

And, for some reason, that's equally reassuring to me.

Cross Your Fingers!

...And I was doing so good, too!!

I'd made it nearly a week without a spanking...probably because I've had an atrocious sinus infection that really has just left me down for the count.

BUT...as per my usual...I went and let my temper and my mouth get right out of control. See...our carpets were in DIRE need of cleaning, and Steven had been promising to do it for days. Let me be clear--he tried. The carpet cleaner was broken and needed a spare part that we didn't have on hand. Still, I was upset, way beyond reason. We had a friend over that I was helping with the lines for her play; she's an under-level ASL student, so she needed help with some things we'd already done.

I took that as a free pass to do whatever it was I liked. And, at that particular moment, I "liked" being a total brat. I pitched such a fit, she even felt uncomfortable. It was all in snide words and comments and, really, just a generally disrespectful attitude. I got my fair share of warnings. I ignored them.

I ignored them all the way out the door to my doctor's appointment. I ignored them right up until my phone rang. It was Steven and he was soooo far from happy.

"You will never," he growled, "Never make anyone that we have invited...or anyone at our house period, feel uncomfortable because of your attitude! Do you understand me?" I felt the beginnings of a squirm inside. "Now. Call her and apologize. We'll deal with it when you get home." Unwilling to push for any more trouble than I was already in, I called her and apologized. She accepted it graciously.

Then, to make my day better, the doctor told me I had one of the most severe sinus infections she'd seen in a while. I'm on steroids and antibiotics both. Fast-forward back to the house.

I'm due to be spanked, and, to my horror...he's found the wooden spoon. It's been...eh...missing in action for the past couple of weeks.

Bummer that.

Anyway, Steven's started this new lecture-during-the-spanking thing...I hate it. Honestly, how can one be expected to form coherent thought and response when getting spanked?? But, he insists that it's possible. So. I was frustrated and angry, and sick of the whole deal, so I stood up. Now, if you'll remember, we just recently instituted some new rules regarding cooperation. Needless to say, that broke a few of them. So, he took it up a notch. And, much to my intense chagrin, I got a whole new level of trouble.



"DO you understand me?"

Hint. Nodding doesn't count as an answer.

"Yes!" A couple of extra hard spanks.

"Yes...? Yes what? What goes with yes?"

A sinking feeling, straight to the pit of my stomach. He's going to want a sir here, I know he is. And, I'm NOT saying it.

"Yes, I understand..."

"Grace. Yes, what?" Quick internal battle, solved even quicker by some more searing swats.

"Yes, sir..." It was the first time he's asked me to say that. Definitely puts you in the submissive mindset, that's for sure.

And, from there, the spanking kept me in that mindset...and, right this minute, I'm in the start a streak of not being spanked frame of mind.

So. Cross your fingers for me! I'm shooting for a month!

Lest You Think Me Ungrateful...

I wanted to post this, just so we're clear on all the wonderful things Steven does for me, and how much I love him.

I have not cooked a single dinner since we moved in together--he cooks them all. Good thing, too, because I can burn water. Easily.

Anything I ask him to do, he does. He doesn't whine or gripe or demand I do it. He just...does it.

He gets up in the middle of the night with the boys.

He wakes me up, even though I'm a complete devil in the mornings.

He kisses me every day. :)

I never have to want for affection--it's always there. I love the feel of his hand on my back, or waist, or in mine.

When I do decide I want more affection than is really convenient, I go sit in his lap. He stops whatever he's doing to love me.

I convinced him to lay out in the sun with me. :P NOT his idea of a good time, but something he did, nonetheless.

He watches my work schedule and makes sure there is us time, and me time, so that I don't get burnt out.

He tends me when I'm sick.

He taught me how to do laundry...(I know. I'm a tad pathetic.)

He teases me endlessly--this house is never without jokes and laughter.

He's devastatingly handsome. :)

He encourages all of my pursuits, whether that's writing, exercise(within reason), or whatever.

He lets me pick the movies we watch....and, trust me, for him, that can be a sacrifice.

I can call him when he's working on his car, no matter what time, and he'll answer, even those he's busy.

He lays with me and lets me cuddle all I want.(I'm a bit of a cuddle addict).

If I don't want to go alone, he'll meet me at the gym at midnight. (Or take me at 4 am...I made the mistake of making my appointment that early...he still took me.)

He didn't make me get rid of all the myriad of animals I bring home.

He doesn't nag.

He's dominant and protective, and I always know where I stand with him.

He spanks me when I need it, and knows when I don't.

I can trust him. And, that is a big deal.

He endures my crazy family.

He doesn't demand from me--that man gives and gives and gives.

And I love him. :)

It Passed

Bang down the gavel.

A new rule has been passed.

It's a scary one. And it's an odd one.



The rule? I can't ask to him to stop.

Awful, huh?

That means, quite simply, it doesn't matter how much it hurts.

As he says, he's well aware that it hurts.

He means for it to hurt.

I'm still not to ask for him to stop spanking me.

I'm not to throw my hand back, or kick up my feet.

(Yeah, I know..a given, right?...eh...)

I'm not to tell him that I've had enough.

That's for him to decide.

I'm not to ask him how many, or how many more.

I'm not to tell him how many I've had.

He can, after all, count.

Plus..I doubt it's ever REALLY been a billion.

All in all, there's to be no more "topping from the bottom".

Not that I ever succeed...but..

He put this rule into practice last night...that was a rough one.

According to him, he was almost finished.

I was just a few swats away from relief.

"PLEASE. Please, just stop!! That's enough!"

That finish line?...

Well, it moved on down the road. This...this is going to be a toughie, for sure.