Autumn Winds

It's happening.  The summer's gone, and the cold and the darkness are setting in... not overwhelmingly yet, but little by little I'm feeling my joy being siphoned out me as I awaken to a dark bedroom with a little bit of a chill in my bones. My emotions are just a little out of control as  BabyMan moves about going through his normal routine as though it's not happening. But it is happening. I feel myself becoming teary eyed and start to sink into what BabyMan calls the abyss. As a drop of morning's light begins to stream into the room while he dresses in front of his closet, he glances over at me and tilts his head as it dawns on him what's happening. He asks me if I'm alright, and upon hearing my pathetic affirmative mumble, decides that it's time for him to do something. He doesn't want this thing to get out of hand.

This is the first time he's seen the symptoms rise in me this year, and he can't... he won't allow me to retreat into my personal hell. He tells me to take the covers off, turn over and hug my pillow. I know what he's up to, and I can't argue. Since last December, he's known what to do in this situation, and even though it's uncomfortable, there's something cathartic about releasing my emotional discord through the physical pain. He comes in and pulls me out of my anguish by slapping my behind, first with the leather paddle, and then with a loopy Johnny that was gifted to us. The paddle I can take. I'm used to it. The sting pushes my emotional angst through my eyes in the form of hot steamy tears as I press my pillow against my body. Then he grabs the loopy and gently uses a soft wrist action to let it drop on me. It hurts more than I could ever imagine, and I begin to cry audibly. Softly at first, and then I begin to wail, screaming into the pillow and convulsing. My emotional and physical pain become one, and I release them into the atmosphere in a series of gut wrenching sobs as I try unsuccessfully to remain still.

When he's through, he holds me and reassures me that I will be fine, and tells me how much I'm loved as he wraps me in the cocoon of his arms until it's time for him to finish preparing for work.  Before he leaves, he sits down on the bed for his instructions to me.

The kitchen and living room are a mess as we had relaxed ourselves into a coma all weekend with the exception of church services on Sunday.  The sink overflowed with dishes, the marble counter cluttered with cooking utensils and dirty pans from a couple of elaborate meals I had prepared. We had shed our clothing and tossed them all over the couches, and the floor held several pair of our shoes and socks. Now the weekend was over and it was time to once again become grownups and live as though we were raised as civilized human beings.

"The front room's a mess, Babe," he said.

"Yeah," I mumble as I rubbed my stinging bottom with the palm of my hand. "Who's gonna clean it up?" I quip.

"Well, I don't know," he smiles. "but It needs to be clean when I get home. I'm sure you'll find someone to do it."

I nod my head.

"That's your task for today. That and... make sure you get to the gym."

We both knew that the endorphins from the cardio and weight training will enhance my energy and lift my mood for hours if not days. I promise I will as he kisses me and pulls the covers over my naked body so that I can drift off to sleep.

I awake about 30 minutes later, dress in my workout clothes, make a half-assed attempt at straightening the front room, and pack my gym bag with the necessities to spend an hour or so at the YMCA.

At 10:30 I receive a call from my mother who invites me to lunch. I had planned to go to the gym about a mile from her place anyway, so I say yes. I should have known better. It's not easy for me to have a full lunch with Mom and still get to the gym, and I was already dragging. I think I know deep down that I'm not going to make it... and I don't.  I spend the day wallowing in my own misery, allowing myself to be distracted, overeating, depressed, defiant in my laziness.  I'm more than willing to let the Seasonal Affective Disorder win, and I just don't care.

I arrive home about 5:45.  I had gotten a little bit accomplished in the front room, but it was still in a bit of disarray. I had managed to get to the market on the way home to buy the ingredients for dinner, and when I walk in BabyMan is standing in the middle of the leftover mess, arms folded, disappointed. The conversation is abrupt, curt. Stressful.

"Where have you been?" he demands.

"At Mom's."

"Why didn't you answer your phone? I called you about 30 minutes ago."

"I left it at Mom's place. I didn't realize it until I got to the store."

"Looks like you didn't get much done around here."

"I got a little done."  I look around at the mess.  "I tried."

He shrugs and sits down in the overstuffed chair. "Dinner?" he asks.

"Ready in about 15 minutes" I say, relieved that he's not pushing the issue.

"How was your workout?"

Damn! I immediately want to tell him that it went just fine, and let the subject drop there... but lying to him is something that had become more and more difficult for me to do since we started ttwd. Our relationship had changed to the point where lying simply was no longer an option. He always knows when I'm lying. I can't look him in the eye, I can't steady my voice. There is no choice here.

"I... didn't get to the gym."

"Why not?"

"I... lost track of time."

We stare at each other for a moment, lost in the uncomfortable quiet of the room. I move behind the kitchen counter and begin to make dinner.

We eat in silence while we watch old reruns of Sienfeld. I never know if he's going to be merciful and let me slide at this point. Sometimes he will, and sometimes...

"I want you to go to the bedroom and put your pajamas on and lie across the bed over pillows," he says as I clear the dishes from the table.

There is no argument.  I have no argument.  I walk into the bedroom and prepare. When he comes in, I am already in tears, terrified that he's going to reach again for the loopy johnny. When I looked back I am relieved that he had his belt in his hand. The belt that I've been frightened of since day one.  He steps in front of me and kneels down so that we are face to face. "You know how important it was that you get to the gym. You know that your workout is crucial to your emotional health. You decided to blow it off."

"No, I didn't decide... it just... happened." 

"Well we're going to make sure it doesn't just happen again. You will not disobey and ignore me with something this important.  Do you understand?"

I begin to cry loudly, my nose is running and the tears are starting to soak the bed. He moves behind me and pulls down my pajama bottoms. I heard the lecture continue as I felt the sting of the belt come down on my behind over and over again in the same spot. When I move my hand back to protect myself, I hear him sternly warn me... and I again reach for the pillow.  The pain is intense, I find myself biting down on my pllow to keep from squirming too much.  I yell out "Please, Please, "  over and over again, only to be ignored.

Suddenly the spanking  stops.  I'm swollen, hot, exhausted, angry at myself.  He's rubbing something soothing on my bottom, then bends down and kisses me on the offended area before he leaves me to return to the living room.

It's over. 

Tomorrow, I think I'll clean the house and go to the gym.

Riddle Me This, Batman...

If the Joker spanks Batgirl, should she take it seriously?

There are times when I just don't know if BabyMan is joking. He often displays a look on his face that has an ambiguously serious glare or a humorous gleam in his eye.  He likes it this way. It keeps me on my toes, and having acquired my Bachelors degree in BabyManology a few years ago, I can usually read his body language with some degree of accuracy... usually.

This past weekend we decided for the first time since our immersion into the wonderful world of domestic discipline, that we would entertain another couple who are a part of this community and enjoy the same lifestyle we do. We had been a bit reluctant in the past and also a tad paranoid since the Parker/Brinlee incident to open ourselves up to anyone, realizing that information can be easily passed from person to person purely unintentionally, but nevertheless, dangerously. We kept our profiles low from the eyes of those who's self righteous attitudes would cause them to lash out at us, and in the process remained hidden from the very people with whom we want to connect.

So recently we decided to open up to one couple who were passing through town on route to their home from a short vacation.

Now here is where the ambiguity comes in. The day before we are to meet this couple at a restaurant a few miles from our home, BabyMan decides that he is obliged to give me one of those Remember Your Place, Woman spankings. I had read about them in various blogs before. It's not necessarily a maintenance spanking, and certainly not a punishment. There was an air of eroticism in the application, and yet a bit of drama displaying a touch of grievance and irritation, but mostly... it's a warning.

Sunday evening I was on the computer in a quick chat with another blogger when BabyMan walked into the den carrying the Weapon of Ass Destruction. He placed it on the arm of the couch and sat down. I looked at the paddle, and then at his face as I searched for answers.

"Say goodbye to your friend and come over here," he demanded.

I blinked incredulously as I usually do when he does this. This is our routine. He expects to be able to demand that I place myself across his lap obediently without question or hesitation... and I... disobediently hesitate and ask lots of questions.

"What's this all about?" I asked.

He sighed, frustrated. "Why do you always have to question me?"

I sighed, just as frustrated. "What's the big secret? Why can't you just tell me?"

"Because you need practice being submissive."

"I do not. There's nothing wrong with the way I submit."

"...she said defiantly."  He grabbed the paddle and slapped it hard against the couch.  I jumped just enough to give away the fact that I was intimidated.  "let's go... NOW!"

He glared at me with a look in his eye that lingered somewhere between sober determination and humor. I turned back to the computer screen, told my friend that I was being summoned, and closed out the Yahoo Messenger. These are the times that make me a bit nervous. I pretty much have a 50/50 chance that this is going to be a lighthearted guilt free and pain free paddling for no particular reason other than he wants the closeness and connection. Those are nice. The other possibility is that he's pissed off about something that he's been bottling up and trying to avoid mentioning because he's convinced himself that it's not worth a confrontation... until it causes him to explode all over my backside.

I kneel next to him on the couch and venture to inquire one more time. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

He gently grabbed my shoulders and pushed me down across his lap. "Relax," he said. "I just want to get a few things straight."

"A few things like what?"

"We've got one of your chat girlfriends and her husband coming to visit tomorrow, and I think we should have an understanding."

I didn't like the sound of this. I tried to push myself back up, but he held me down pushing me firmly into the couch cushions while the other hand yanked down my panties. "Every once in a while you get a little too testosterony."

"Testoster... what? That's not even a word!"

"Testosterony. You act like you've got a little too much testosterone coursing through your veins, and you like to push the envelope.  Remember when you put on your new weight training gloves last week?  You strutted around here giving me attitude like you overdosed on steroids."  The paddle came down on my butt cheek making my legs buck. 

"Ow! I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Oh, I think you know exactly what I'm talking about. And while I let you get away with that when it's just the two of us, you're not going to show off for your girlfriend."

This wasn't fair at all! I haven't done anything wrong... yet.

"You're not going to boss me around," WHAP! "You're going to watch your tone with me," WHAP! "and you're not going to disrespect me in any way, do you understand?" His voice was calm and rational while I was beginning to panic. The strikes of the paddle were getting harder, and began to sting my sit spot. I grabbed onto his ankle and squeezed hard with every strike of the paddle.

"You have a tendency to tell me to shut up," he went on.

"Okay, I do. But it's in a really respectful way!"

I could feel his body shake in suppressed laughter. "Yes, Baby, I know. You tell me to shut up very respectfully. But your not going to say it at all during this meeting. Understood?" WHAP!

"Yes! I understand!"

"Who's HoH?" WHAP!

"Ow!  You are!"

"And who's the submissive wife?" WHAP!

I gritted my teeth, held my tongue and moved my hand back to protect myself.  I can never seem to answer this question with any degree of ease and conviction.  He grabbed my wrist and jerked it out of the way.  "Who?" WHAP!

"All right, dammit, I am!"

"You're going to treat me as though I were your first thought... and your last thought."

"I always do!"

"Yes, of course you do, Baby, I just want to make sure that doesn't change" He brought the paddle down on me a few more times as I squeezed my eyes shut. "Now let me tell you what will happen if I'm unhappy with your behavior..."

Oh, God, here it comes.

"If I have to remind you just once not to cross the line, we will excuse ourselves, and I will march you into this room, shut the door and your friend will hear you get a spanking you won't soon forget.  Got it?"

"What?" I laughed nervously.  He's kidding... he's got to be kidding!

"Or better yet, maybe I'll just do it right in front of them."

I felt myself gasp,  This all had to be a huge joke, right? His demeanor was humorless, but his words were so bizarrely ridiculous, that I had to stop myself from bursting into laughter. But again... I couldn't be sure if he meant what he was saying. So I said those famous last words that so many dd wives spanning the generations have said to their husbands.  "YOU...WOULDN'T...DARE!"

"I absolutely would."

"You would not!"

"Oh no? You really want to try me?"

I felt the sting of that paddle in a consistent rhythm for a few minutes as I grabbed a throw pillow and screamed into it.

I went to bed that night shocked, confused, unsure of his resolve, sure of his lunacy, a little nervous, and a lot sore.

The visit with our new friends went very well, and I was the model of submissive perpetuity.  BabyMan tossed me only a raised eyebrow when at one point I took the lead and forcefully hijacked the plans for the evening.  But all in all, he was very proud of me.  But here it is four days later, and I still have no idea if he would have carried out his threat.  I don't think I'll ever know for sure if he would have the nerve to spank me in  front of others, because I'll never give him a reason to.  But as I work on my study of BabyManology for my Masters, I have come to realize that this particular mid term exam was no better than a C- because... I'll never really know the answer to that question... God willing.

I Love it When...

... we're sitting in the living room after dinner.  I'm watching a movie on TV, and BabyMan is reading a book in the overstuffed easy chair.  I glance over at him to find that he is already looking at me, lovingly at first, then a bit lecherously with a wicked grin that makes my eyebrows jump.

"What are you looking at?" I snipe mockingly.

"You." His smile broadens and his head cocks to the side. "When was the last time I spanked you?"

Uh oh... where's he going with this? "Three days ago, you beast."

He looks up at the ceiling to refresh his memory. It takes a moment, but the scene suddenly comes back to him in a wave of humor. He chuckles. "Oh yeah. You left the closet door open again." Suddenly there's a cold determination in his eye, his smile plastered on his face like an escapee from an asylum. "Well it seems to me that you're overdue."

Ah, so you want to play, huh? I had been here many times before. I point a shaky finger at him and narrow my eyes. "You stay away from me!"

He snaps the book shut. "Go get the paddle."

"No!" I observe a genuine look of surprise on his face. "You want to spank me, I'll be damned if I'm going to help you. You do your own dirty work."

The book drops to the floor and he's suddenly on his feet. Instinctively I rise and back away around the couch. My eyes are locked with his, resolute in my defiance. I note that his grin has disappeared, replaced with a stoned faced demeanor.

"Do not make me chase you, SugarAnne."

I fold my arms and jut out my chin trying desperately to keep from smiling. "I'll make you do whatever I want you to do."

That does it. He heads to the hallway that leads to the bedroom as I quickly move to the other side of the dining room table. He returns in a moment, not with the paddle, but with the bath brush that I hate so much. I laugh nervously. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me!"

"Come here," he demands

"Kiss my ass!"

He slaps the brush against the palm of his hand. "Oh, I'm going to kiss it all right," he growls.

I'm getting nervous. He makes a quick motion around the dining room table, and I counter by shooting to the other side.

"I'm not going to chase you, Sugar," he says calmly.

"HA!" I point that shaky finger at him again. "I'll tell you what you're not going to do. You're not going to get me to hand you my butt on a silver platter. You want it so bad, you're going to have to work for it."

I'm scared, because I know that once he catches me it's going to hurt. I'm excited and I'm hyper because my blood is racing through my veins. I'm laughing, animated, thrilled, aroused... nervous. I gave him a challenge that he'd never be able to turn down. There was no way out now, and the more I elude him, the worse it was going to be for me in the end. But dammit, the least I can do is make him put some effort into it.

He lunges at me again, and I scurry around the marble island that separates the kitchen from the living room. To my surprise he keeps moving, and I skillfully dashed to the other side. He stops and attempts a fake out by changing directions... and I brilliantly anticipate his every move. I'm faster than him, more agile, better reflexes. He doesn't have a chance... until he decides to use his head instead of his feet. There's a small space between the kitchen island and the living room couch, and I have to go through it to circle the island again. He walks over to the dining room table, grabs a couple of chairs and begins to construct a barricade in that space to impede my escape. I'm trapped.

My shaky finger juts out again. "NO! NO! that's not fair! You're not playing fair!"

His voice is eerily calm and scary. "I'm not playing... at all," he says, smiling that creepy smile that is sending an icy chill up my spine. I watch helplessly as he stacks the chairs high, putting the finishing touch on his makeshift enclosure. There's nowhere to go. My heart is pounding through my rib cage as I watch him look back at me with all the charm of Jack Nicholson in the Shining. "You've got one last chance to come to me... and maybe I'll take it easy on you," he says. I think for a moment as my eyes jet around the room assessing the situation.

"Well?"

Again I defiantly lock my eyes with his.  The words come out of my mouth sounding to me like a distorted recording running on slow speed. "Bite me!" I say.

A broad grin engulfs his face as though he were hoping I'd say that. He suddenly dashes around the island... and I, in a mad and brilliant move go for the gold as I sprint to the other side, and in a move reminiscent of The great Wilma Rudolph, hurdle over the couch as though I have wings on my back and rockets on my feet.  I gracefully land on the other side and disappear down the hall and into the bathroom where I lock myself in..

As I lean against the towel bar to calm my breathing, I can hear BabyMan laughing uproariously on the other side of the door. "THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL!" he howls with delight.

I begin to giggle uncontrollably as I listen to him describe in admiration my ballet like leap over the furniture to a well earned freedom. I open the door, and we laugh together for almost a full minute as our knees buckle and we sink to the floor in convulsive hysteria.

After a while I notice that I'm the only one laughing. I feel a strong hand clamp down on my wrist like a steel handcuff and lift me to my feet. "GOTCHA!" I'm dragged unceremoniously back into the living room where I an up ended over the back of the couch, fingers slip inside my waistband and pull my shorts and panties down around my knees.

"NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!!!"

"Your soul may belong to Jesus, but your behind is mine!" he says joyfully as he wraps his arm around the small of my back. The first smack of the bath brush is horrendous! My screaming, wiggling and kicking are ignored as the wood smacks at my flesh over and over again. I hear him chuckling as he burns my behind with unbridled enthusiasm.

"You bastard!" I blurt out as I attempt to cover my behind with my hands.

"I'm sorry, what did you just call me?" WHACK, WHACK,WHACK...

What am I doing? think fast! "I said, bahstid. It's an Armenian word. it means loved one!"

"Liar!" WHACK, WHACK, WHACK...

"This hurts!" I squeal as I feel tears gather at the corners of my eyes.

"Good. It's supposed to hurt."

I hate it when he says that! My butt is on fire, the begging and pleading isn't working, so I have to start negotiations. "What do you want? I'll give you anything you want if you'll just stop!"

"Really?" he says as the paddling stops to hear my offer. "What'dya got?"

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

BabyMan steps back admiring his handy work for a moment and then... "Go get in bed and wait for me."

I slowly stand up and reach down for my pants.

"Leave the pants where they are," he says.

I wipe the moisture from my eyes and start to move as dignified as possible toward the bedroom with my pants and panties at my knees . I turn my head to find him with that stupid grin on his face watching my exposed buttocks waddle away . "I hate you, you know," I whisper as I try desperately to keep a serious face.

"I know baby," he answers. "But before the day is out... you'll love me again."