I have a cold and a sore throat and a cough and other terrible things that should make even you Tops feel sorry for me and want to take care of me.

Not like that!

I was thinking of snuggles and blankets and fires.

Not like that! Not fires on my bum but fires in the grate.

Anyway, as I was trying to say I have some horrid medicine that does seem to help my coughing, really nasty medicine that tastes so foul I would rather cough.

Here is what happened;

He said: Take your medicine.

I said: I will if you can communicate that message to me through the medium of dance.

He said: I will communicate the message through the medium of spanking.

I said: Firstly that is predictable and secondly you cannot spank an ill girl- it is against the Geneva convention.

He said… well he did not say much at all. But taking horrid medicine being barely able to sit down is no fun at all.

I hope everyone feels sorry for me and all the Tops will write to Dexter and tell him not to be so mean.

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I still have little time- far too little but I just wanted to pop in and tell you about a typical moment of my life right now.

I have these flashes of temper. It s not normal for me and every day I swear I won’t lose it but I do. Last night I wanted pudding (dessert for Americans) but Dexter did not want any. Girl law is clear that we cannot eat pudding alone.

I nipped out after a rather terse exchange and when I got back Dexter had put a little chocolate bar by my tea cup. That is sweet, isn’t it? It shows a kind man. So quite why i felt  I had to pick t up, open the kitchen door and throw it in to the kitchen slamming the door behind me is a bit beyond me. I said nothing, just sat down next to him on the sofa again.

There was a moment of silence. I don’t know what was in Dexter’s head but n mine was jus the simple thought, ‘Bugger. I just pushed it too far. I am bound to get spanked.’

It is so unlike me. Normally I am very difficult as i work hard at stepping up to the line, looking at it and letting my skirts braze along it. It is hard to spank me sometimes without feeliing you are being mean. But last night I looked at the line and took a running jump over it pelting Dexter with water balloons as I flew past.

He spanked me of course. It happened about 14 seconds after I sat down. Pyjama pulled down and a really hard hand spanking on my bare bum. I knew I had been so awful that I could not even argue. That made it worse. I just had to take it. I cried a little.

Then I snuggled up in his arms and had the most lovely night.

Later on I was a very sweet tempered girl indeed.

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Imagine a lady, a giantess swooping along a glacial corridor. She is dressed in ball gown, voluminous metallic grey skirts rustling and dragging all around her. She is magificent, terrifying to behold, utterly unstoppable, unaware of all around her.

She is a river, a monumental river, like the Ganges from the mountains to the sea carrying innumerable souls, all at once, all human life and no living thing.

Atop her, for all her magnifience and overwhelming size is a girl, a normal girl from the waist up looking horrified as below her her skirts alter the whole world. Tiny compared to her silks, insignificant even as she continues her journey across the landscape.

Oh, how I have wanted to write that- for so many days that image has haunted me. I am at once a force of tidal emotion and a tiny girl, lost in piles of books unable to reach the high shelves. I am learning how to do all these practical things with grim efficiency (‘Don’t tell me about the problem, sort it out, don’t even tell me about the soloution, just move along and sort the next issue out.’) whilst all the time yearning to sit still for a few minutes with a book of poems and a glass of wine.

Dexter is here with me. He is solid and calm to my rages and storms. I am my very own weather pattern. I am my own moon and sea. I am my own stars and sky. Everything, all at once, everywhere, alone and crowded, calm and shaking. I hate it.

This is the start of my journey and to help you, dear reader  shall put this more simply.

I have my space (so beautiful, I shall write about it another time). I have a man who is everything I could wish for and who is yang to my yin, Top to my bottom, stern to my submission. I have pretty things and implements and books.

But I also have such a surfeit of emotion that if it were food I would have gout. I am swollen with it, sore with it, bent over with it, overwhelmed and held hostage.

Dexter knows. He waits. He watches and holds me. He takes time with me. Last night I was bent over the chaise longue, over the scroll at the end. My bottom was presented to his belt, no formal introductions were needed, it was not the first meeting but it was the most intense. Just there as I struggled, as I watched my arms flail out to reach for him and as I heard myself start to cry I had the briefest glimpse of peace. It was just a moment but we both felt it.

There will be more moments. I can’t imagine it now but there will be. I will be sure to keep you informed.

(My chaise longue is dusky pink by the way- no leopard print in my house.)

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A cock is crowing outside. The moon is still up (depsite me having to go to work in twenty minutes) and my internet connection is woeful- hence my silence.

The man is coming today to fix it.

Dexter says I am in lots of trouble- I think  might not have lots of time to write tonight but if I do I won’t want to becaus of the whole sitting thing.

Lots to tell you- later will have to do.

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The spanking man has a weapon unlike any other. It is not a paddle or a belt- it is a skill, a quality that shows his soul through his eyes. It is known as “The look.”

His look makes a girl sit still for a moment and try to think other thoughts. It makes her tummy drop so low that it seems almost that she wants him to touch her.

But she doesn’t. She doesn’t even want him to look at her.

She wants to hide and then maybe, after some time has passed, she would like him to kiss her.

But I have a look too and this is it.

This is such a perfect drawing of my expression when I am about to be spanked. I get  a bit angry, although I would deny that. I tell myself, and Dexter if he would listen, that I would be perfectly happy to be spanked if only he had a good reason to do it. It is just that today, right now, he is being a bit ridiculous and it is only fair that I tell him so.

I would like to tell you that this attitude changes before I end up over his knee but it doesn’t.

I would also like to tell you that he realises his mistakes and stops before my mood is stripped away from me. But he never does.

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Those of you that are following my life know that I am a bit stressed right now. Today and tomorrow are moving day and, although I have a lot to look forward to, divorce and moving  are not designed to make a girl feel happy and relaxed.

I have been aware recently that I have been a little difficult. Or, if you want more details, I have been rude, aggressive, angry, unkind, unpleasant, moody, irritable – things like that, but not as nice. I do hope you have not noticed, Dexter has been he lucky recipient. He has broad shoulders. We have both been aware that if only he could get his hands on me he could sort me out and both he and I would feel a lot better.

In short, for acute and long term stress (which is what I am suffering from) a spanking therapy would make all the difference to me. I wondered if I was alone in linking spanking as a stress cure. I know as you are reading here you may well have considered that iea before-  but what about the others? The non-spankers? Or do they resort to pills? (which I point bank refuse to. My stress is a normal reaction to events. I have to get through it another way.) (I know about the Russian study by the way- but lots of us have written about that.)

So I did a brief search and  found this little gem. It is about PMS rather than stress but I think that I can see the connection.

PMS and spanking.  If you click the link you will see this is not a kinky website.

Does anyone else deal with PMS with spankings? Strange as it may seem, the most effective PMS ‘treatment’ I have found is to be spanked by my husband. It only takes a few minutes and works wonders for my attitude and level of irritability. I benefit from a spanking three days before my period is due to start and another two days before it starts. This second spanking is usually enough to carry me through what would otherwise be my time of PMS. I have read that it is related to increasing levels of endorphins and other chemicals. All I know is that for whatever reason, it works. For about a day after I feel more balanced, positive, and far less irritable. We sometimes incorporate erotic spankings into or sexual games and role play scenes, but these PMS spankings are different. We don’t bother with making a game of it, but rather just charge right in and get it done. These “therapeutic” spankings are usually quicker but a bit harder than those that are for fun. He just carefully brings me to the edge of tears or until tears actually form in my eyes (about half the time), and then holds me and tells me he loves me. The whole thing takes but a few minutes and I feel so much better for the next day or two. It is a wonder how much better those endorphins and a good cry will make me feel! Has anyone else discovered this or am I the only one in the world like this? I am afraid to talk to my girlfriends about it for fear of what they may say or think. I just know it works for me!

I know that this woman is a spankee (she has other types of spankings) but a couple of things occurred to me. Firstly, I can imagine there being a few men jumping at the chance to spank their wife/ girlfriend when she had PMS. It might help him reduce his feelings of stress (being an innocent under fire)  and be a little sexy to boot. But I do want to stress that I am not of the belief that all women should be spanked- it works for those of us it works for.

But it was the replies that amazed me. I expected some shrieks but there were none. Six responses, all positive except the last one.

Comments included,

“I’ve honestly never thought to try that but it makes a lot of sense. The release of endorphins and tears is probably very therapeutic. … I was on here looking for drug therapy but maybe a little spanking therapy might be a better (and more natural) remedy.” A woman after my own heart. I will take drugs if that is what is really needed but not for something that is not an illness and not a natural part of life.

And how open is she to the idea? I love it!

“My husband doesn’t really do this to me much now, (so he doesn’t really understand the concept), but it the past, I have had other men turn me over their knees and soundly spank me to tears. … After the spanking and the tears, it was like I had a runners high or something. I’d find that life wasn’t so terrible anymore as it was before the spanking.”

Ok, this woman is one of us, but that at least shows there is a lot of us out there. And she makes excellent points- right now, as I type that, I want that.

“ I wish I could convince my husband to really give me a good spanking or find someone who is willing without the sexual part of it. It is embarrassing, but very freeing” Been that woman,, stopping being that woman today.

“I believe good old fashioned spanking gives an emotional release that nothing else can give. I wish I could get my husband to really spank me to tears for the release, but he is too afraid to hurt me.” Another woman feeling the same- isn’t it amazing these people are all commenting? I love that they sound so regular, it is a just a sweet part of life, if you are lucky enough to have it.

“deep down most women know this IS the best medicine for attitude adjustment” I am aware that this person needs some writing lessons and sounds a little simplistic for my liking but it is another positive comment.

And the final comment? “Cheap drugs on line” An advert- spam for drugs.

The point of this post is that firstly, what we do is not so crazy, not so awful, just a way of being that lots of people understand. That matters to me now. It helps to know that.

And secondly, to remember that spanking is perfectly sensible, drug free way to deal with stress.

If anyone fancies coming to carry some boxes for me it would be much appreciated. But you should know, Dexter does not get here until tomorrow- so I am still a bit of a dragon.

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I dress up in the morning and all day keep myself tightly held in, close, silent, my secret self waiting.

In the evening I put my smart handbag on the table, slip off high heels and slowly unwrap myself.

It takes a little more that the removal of the grown up uniform to find my more gentle self-  the touch of his hand makes all the difference.

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This is what I used to wear when I rode, pretty much exactly this outfit. I liked it very much but not once did I consider myself a fair game spanking target.

It did not occur to me as I bounced along on my horse that some men would be focussed on my bum.

It certainly never occurred to me that some men would have liked to do this to me. That is a little ironic as I was certainly not very well behaved (although I was always kind to the horse I rode) and maybe a spanking would have made me a little more settled.

But how come women in jodhpurs are such targets for spanking?

After all, these women are always armed.

But even armed they seem to be too tempting, I just don’t understand.

This may explain why these ladies have decided not to wear the jodphurs at all- to see if they can escape spankings. Sensible girls, I hope they get rewarded.

And for those people who, like me, were so moved by Thomas’ and Pandora’s eloquence on the subject on the riding crop, here is the man in action with the wonderful Pandora and Zille. It is from their new site Dreams Of Spanking, which you should visit if you have not done so already.

Sigh. Not sure how to go to work after all of this.

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I find writing hard at the moment. My emotions are so strong and bewildering that they carry me along jolting me up and down, I feel so much that I can’t think.

You know lawn sprinklers? I want you to imagine a lawn sprinkler, the way it throws water out, flinging it to cover a vast expanse of green, no unsuspecting blade of grass left dry, and no worm left  sleeping. Now imagine each flick of water is hard as shrapnel as it is flung in all directions- that is my emotions right now. I am observing them this morning, a moment of peace aided by tiredness and the snores of my dogs next to me.

So here is today’s fantasy Monday.

There is a house. It is at the end of a country lane and surrounded by fields. The walls of the house are thick and the windows small but plentiful so that light streams into every room.

In the sitting room is a sofa. The sofa is far enough away from the wall to enable a girl to be made to bend over the back of it with her legs kicking helplessly in the air. The room is large with buttermilk yellow walls. You will notice (if you are especially observant) that one corner has been left bare as though it is waiting for a girl to be placed there.

The kitchen is bright and airy, with views to the woods behind the house. In one half of the kitchen is a huge oak table, heavy and steady as time. It is set for two. There is a bottle of wine already open and one of the half finished wine glasses has a lip stick mark on it. But if you look closely and just narrow your eyes a little you can make out an outline of  girl, she is bent over the table, her hands clenched inwards, pale against the rich brown of the wood, her light bottom striped red with the belt that is discarded to the side of her.

Follow me up the stairs to the study. If you look out of the windows and across the fields you can see the very old manor house of the village, turning back you see a writing desk, dark wood inlaid with green leather. On the desk lies a cane, a simple object but as you watch it you can see a girl’s eyes at first wide and silent and then cast down seeking refuge in the solitude of the floor.

The bathroom next and you can hear her before you can see her. Splashing and singing she sits amid a mountain of bubbles, an oversized soft towel is at her side along with some moisturiser. You know very well that she will wrap herself up and throw herself into the arms of the man that is waiting elsewhere. She will push the bottle of moisturiser into his hands and be outraged at what he does with it.

Finally the bedroom, the bed has a duvet of goose down and is covered in the most 400 thread count  Egyptian cotton, all in cream. The furniture here is light pine, well loved since the girl was a child. In here you cannot see her so clearly, half glimpses is all you have, you see her in the corner with pyjamas pushed half way down her thighs and a sulky pink bottom on display, you see her standing with her neck arching upwards to receive a kiss and kneeling in the same posture to give one. You see her in bed with a thousand whispered prayers, all the same and different, desire with an element of fear and over her, covering her you see the muscular back of the man that understands every nuance.

But you also see something else. You see a woman, throughout this house, a woman on an adventure. She is all at once alone and in the arms of the man. But you do see her alone, returning from a run, carrying shopping, reading and cooking. And you see your computer screen, the words forming there as she writes to you to tell you of everything she is discovering in the peace she has found.

xxxx

And now, over this week and starting on Friday I am going to work as hard as I can to make this fantasy true.

What about you? Any fantasies you can make reality in your life? (Hopefully with less disruption than I am bringing to my life.)

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