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Sunday, May 31, 2009

The Testimony

Hi Folks, Sorry it's been awhile again. I know I'll post more once I'm living in Albuquerque for the summer, but lately I've been doing construction on the house, selling the house, buying a condo, and doing MAJOR renovations on the condo (tile floors, new paint, new carpet, new cabinets, new handrails) and to keep it cost-effective WE have to do all the labor ourselves (except put in the carpet and the granite countertops. We're not CRAZY!)

All the while, Bethany at Bethany's Woodshed just hired me to FULL TIME! Whee! Which is awesome, but with everything going on, it makes me a very bad blogger. BUT I'm posting what I always meant to—my testimony. It was a DD testimony that I sent into Bethany's Woodshed back in November that we haven't gotten around to organizing. So YOU ALL get first peek! Here it goes….

An Occasionally Painful yet Happy Solution:

A Testimony of Korey Johnson

I can't even remember how many times James has come home from work harrumphing about his friends' wives. "Chris needs to grow a pair," he would grump. "Do you have any idea what Miranda did this time?" Naughty wives abound in this world, and we think we're so fortunate to have figured out a solution.

James spanks me for discipline. Alright--sometimes he just spanks me because he's a little kinky, but there are so many distinctions between the two that there is never any question which is which. Or at least there's one very large distinction: discipline spankings are extremely painful. Luckily, I'm a rather well-behaved young wife, which means that I only get spanked about twice a month on average. (Please, take "on average" as a purely mathematical figure, I sometimes get spanked 5 days in a row and then don't get spanked for 3 months.)

When do these spankings occur? Why? Well, I'm pretty good at not repeating the "why" very often. My first spanking was for bad language. My latest spanking was for letting a check bounce, and not even calling the bank to ask how it could have been avoided, even though he asked me repeatedly.

From the first spanking to the latest--I doubt it was the last, but we can hope--there has been a "method" to the spanking. He calls me into the room. "Korey!"

I shrink. "What?" I ask, hoping he fell and needs some help up. But I know just by the sound of his voice that he's at least thinking about spanking me.

"Just come here."

I sigh and quit doing whatever I'm doing. "I didn't do anything," I'll complain as I walk through the door.

"We need to talk." He says, and I immediately interpret those lines as this; "You need a spanking."

"About what?"

And he will say what I did. Sometimes I'll have a good excuse, like, "The reason the credit card bill is so high, is that I took my mother out to get our nails done, and she had just taken me out to lunch… and I wanted to be nice to her." He'll just sigh and say, "Alright. Just remember that we're trying to save money." He'll give me a kiss and the incident will be forgotten.

Most of the time I won't have a good excuse. I mean, there's a reason why I do everything, and I so I can--and will--explain my reasoning. But my reasoning, though normally innocent, sometimes sucks. "Well, the bank wasn't going to tell me something I didn't know," was my latest reasoning. "And you know how the beauty parlor couldn't get my credit card to run, so I had to use my debit card."

"Why not the other credit card?" he asked.

"Because I didn't want to look through my wallet for it, I was just trying to pay fast." This, ladies and gentlemen, is a sucky excuse--I'll be the first to admit it. It was true: I just wanted to get out of there and the hairstylist who was cashing me out was also in the middle of another client. But that didn't mean I needed to use the debit card from my personal checking account that barely has any money in it, when we have a joint account that did have plenty of money. I just grabbed a card and blew through the consequences.

He'll explain what I did wrong, reminding me that regardless of what card I used at the hairstylist, I still shouldn't have later written a check without knowing if there was enough money in my account to cover it. He will tell me that he knows that I can do things the right way because I'm an intelligent, educated person, and that I just need to not rush through things when money is involved. The specific lecture changes, of course, but the message is always the same. He knows I can do better; he would never spank me unless he was absolutely sure I could do better. When the lecture draws to a close, he'll tell me to pull down my pants.

The trick is to not lower my panties--just the pants. If he can wear out a few slaps on the fabric, that's all the better. The spanking will last until he believes I've learned my lesson… or until he can't use his hand anymore…whatever comes first. Panties, as thin as they are, really shield the blows. Panties are magic.

But eventually the panties will come down, and it will not be a good moment. I'm already sore by the time they come down, and will beg, "James, please." James has stopped listening to me by this point. Nothing I say is going to make him stop. He's going for a shade of redness and will not cease until he gets there.

Did I say during the spanking I'm acting like a wounded raccoon? Well--I am. I'm kicking, though not successfully. My pants are around my feet and my panties are around my knees and his thigh is normally keeping my knees pinned down. I don't bite only because I know it would go so much worse, but I'll still always consider biting.

Instead, I howl. I howl and tear at the bed sheets, I pull my own hair, I squish my hands against my face. I try to block out the pain in my mind, but this is of course unsuccessful. I try to beg, but try is the operative word here. I am beyond begging--I'll open my mouth and crying gibberish comes out instead.

Everyone; I do not take a spanking "gracefully". Graceful is beyond comprehension in moments like these. In fact--I think anyone who claims that they can take one gracefully is either lying, because they can't, or they're not being spanked as hard as I am. James efficiently brings me to the brink of what someone can stand without trying to heartily defend themselves.

Still, James only spanks with his hand, and his hand only connects with my thighs or that beloved "sit spot", which we hate when we're looking into mirrors yet so tenderly care about in moments like these. When James finishes, he rubs my bottom a little, which feels oddly good, and normally I catch my breath.

James and I decided in the beginning of our relationship that we would not have sex after a punishment spanking--we wanted the punishment spanking to be and feel different. James is unquestionably erect after a punishment spanking--he can't touch my bottom for a millisecond without becoming erect, God bless him, but at times like these he doesn't want sex. And neither do I. We really just want to hold and comfort each other. I look forward to these moments; it's probably when we're closest as I feel so vulnerable--I'm out of breath, normally still crying, and he's feeling bad that he had to spank me.

This is important--I don't know if I would trust James if he liked putting me in pain or discomfort. He hates it as much as I do, but he looks on it like his duty, as I believe a disciplinarian should.

If you're wondering how James and I got into a relationship like this--or even why this lifestyle suites us so well, then I'm going to tell you that it's a bit complicated. For my part, there was always a little bit of "weird" in me that got me turned on to such a lifestyle as this in the first place.

I remember very far back into my childhood, and a truth that remains constant from the earliest memory is a strange truth indeed—I've always been completely entranced with spankings.

It was an odd pet to have, and it wouldn't be until I was about fifteen that I would come to the realization that I wasn't too weird; there were a lot of people like me. There were a lot of people that would read any book they could get their hands on, scanning for a spanking scene, or watching movies just to see the blessed event.

Little did I know when I was fifteen, that 2000 miles away, in Texas of all places, was my soul mate—a man who had grown up with the same interests. Unfortunately, life, uninterested boyfriends and school got in the way until my senior year of college, when, being freshly broken up with my fiancĂ©, I was back on the prowl, looking for men. My best friends, bless their hearts, though I had trusted them with the identity of my interest, could never fully comprehend my heart's desire.

When it comes to friends of spankees, who are not spankees/spankers themselves, it is very unlikely that they'll ever completely understand people our interest--their minds are programmed to go right to abuse, or to BDSM. Their brains can't comprehend a man lovingly disciplining his wife. My friends try--but they think that spanking is still a merely sexual urge, not something I want underlying my life, so at this point they were trying to hook me up with "normal/vanilla" men and thereby were getting a bit in the way of my quest.

As you might have guessed, by that point I was fully keen on the life possible by "Christian Domestic Discipline", and although I hadn't even been to church in ten years, every fiber of my being ached for it. I read countless stories, testimonies, blogs… Getting into it was just harder than it sounds—for one, you need a boyfriend to be part of the domestic discipline life, and I had none. For another, finding a boyfriend that was interested in the same thing, after months of searching, was a bit of a rare find.

I'm a picky person and, after a close call with being forever in a relationship with a man who wouldn't make me happy, my new boyfriend "must have" list was quite immense, and I would not back up on it. I didn't just want a man that would gladly spank his girlfriend, I wanted a man who I thought in every sense was better than me, more responsible than me, and smarter than me and would help me become equally amazing through a sort of loving discipline. (Note that James does not agree that he is either better or smarter than me. He does agree that he is more responsible, and that is why he is more than willing to discipline me when necessary.) I was determined to let this fetish that had plagued me all my life finally be of some use to me, but finding the perfect man to implement that strategy was a delicate process which only the internet could provide.

I had almost given up on the spanking networking site when I got a message from a guy who was interested in what I was looking for. Suddenly, I was deep in conversation, and I stayed up until all hours talking to this faceless person from Texas (I was in Oregon then). Obviously, it was impossible for there to be a relationship—he was deep into grad school, and I had no intentions of going to Texas.

Yet, while I kept looking around, I was constantly in contact with this Texan, James. I loved chatting with him. Like me, his chats were made of long, well thought out sentences, and an interested dialogue that had a sternness to it. Although strange to say, every time we chatted he sent goose bumps up my spine. All of the sudden, we were exchanging numbers and photographs, talking on the phone, and in just a couple of weeks, we decided we had to meet.

Obviously, I had changed my mind slightly on this "going to Texas" issue, even though I already had an internship and job opportunity in Philadelphia. But there was something to James that I had to see for myself. He visited me in Oregon about a month after we first started talking.

He was gorgeous with dark blue eyes, a chiseled body, chestnut colored hair, a perfect smile… I wanted nothing more than for him to spank me—for any reason, for no reason. Just to get his hands on me. I wanted to slip under the covers with him and never come out.

Although he was against premarital sex (even though he knew I no longer had my virginity, thank you fiancĂ© #1) he never hesitated on giving me an affectionate slap on the butt every now and then, but that week he refused to give me a discipline spanking—he wanted me to be comfortable with him and for us to build up a trust of each other first.

It wasn't until our 3rd vacation together, when he visited me during my internship in Philadelphia, nearly 4 months after first meeting face-to-face, that he finally responded to my attempts to actually discover what a real spanking would be like. I knew how he felt about swearing—that it was the ugliest thing a woman could do—and when he met me I had quite a bad swearing habit. That whole week, I had just made it worse. I was looking for him to make good on his threat. He had promised previously to give me some time to adjust to the new "no swearing" rule, but now he had warned me that I was fast approaching a spanking.

Surprisingly, after I got the "the next time you swear, I'm going to spank you" threat, I just decided to try to ride out the threat and avoid swearing for the rest of his visit. Something in his voice made it sound like it was actually going to hurt, and that I wouldn't enjoy it as much as the spankings he would give me when we were fooling around.

Unfortunately, when I eventually earned this particular spanking, I was foolish enough to say the f-word in the shower. When I was naked. Needless to say, there's nothing on this planet more awkward than coming out of the shower, hair wet, skin chilled by air conditioning, and then having to answer to a very stern, very clothed, very handsome man. Butterflies were dancing around in my stomach, yet I was mostly excited. I was also more than a little embarrassed when he told me to set aside my towel, and made me stand there in front of him totally naked with my hands on my head while he briefly lectured me.

For the first few seconds after the lecture ended I had reason to be excited. As he pulled me over his jeans, it seemed extremely erotic.

Wow. Did that change fast. The first spank was not light, it felt like all my skin on my butt swelled up in an instant--worse than if I had just been slapped with a brick of ice or fire. I shrieked.

Until then, I had only read about women kicking and struggling and crying and begging and everything else, and then suddenly, there I was, living out my own little spanking story. As I was getting over the shock of the moment, James was doing what James has always done, and will almost certainly continue to do for the rest of our lives; lecture me while spanking.

The lecture during a spanking has always been strange to me--it's unnecessary effort, really, on his part. There's something strangely soothing about hearing another human being's voice while this is going on, of course--makes me remember that I'm not actually in hell--I imagine there's no talking there. But still, I'm not actually listening. The pain has overloaded all of the rest of my senses, making all the rest of them worthless. But still, James feels lecturing me during a spanking is important to the overall discipline.

I'm sure the whole hotel heard me that day--not that I cared. You don't care about much of anything but yourself during a spanking, let me assure you, but in retrospect I'm sure our neighbors were getting a good earful--and because of the cries, the spanks, and the lecture on top of it all, I'm sure they didn't have to stretch their imaginations much. If they could put two and two together, then they should have had no problem figuring out that I was getting a spanking--one that would take my hourly swearing occurrences strikingly down to nearly zero for the rest of my life.

But still, it felt so nice to be wrapped up afterwards by the arms of a fully-clothed man, who was constantly kissing my forehead and telling me he loved me. It felt wonderful. And swearing, as I said, was cured from me instantly. As much as I hate punishment spankings, damn it--they work. And I'm better for it.

These spankings make me feel like there's nothing to be guilty about, and that once it's over, it's like I'm forgiven and I don't have anything hanging over my head, which is such a nice change from earlier--I still feel guilty for cheating on a project my senior year in high school--guilt stays with me for a long time. I feel so much healthier, and happier.

As for James, you can tell that he's happy to have control of his life; he doesn't have a wife that runs him ragged or who tries to hamstring him, but every day when he comes home, he has someone who has everything she was supposed to have taken care of, taken care of. I won't ever embarrass him, and I always try to make him happy and he knows this.

Spanking me also makes him a better man. He doesn't want to fall into hypocrisy by giving me a spanking for things that he does himself, so he does whatever he can to hold himself to the same standards he holds me. The only reason I feel that this lifestyle isn't for everybody is because I feel not all men are like him--that too many men would take advantage of their wives.

As for us, domestic discipline has so greatly improved our lives, and I couldn't imagine having gone any longer without it in my life.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Head of Household Matters

Alright, so I think everyone is aware that I am a large advocate of HOHs, and look back at a better time when there were more of them. 'Head-of-household' was a term that people of the non-spanking persuasion used quite frequently and quite consciously. Those were good times. But you talk of men being the head of household NOW and people will look at you as if you just asked them for a weasel sandwich. I understand why. Times have certainly changed—whether or not they changed for the better is HIGHLY debatable, but they HAVE changed, and for the first time since the dawn of time one half of the population is now trying to do exactly what the other half had spent since the beginning of time getting good at. I think it's not our role as women to be HOH—not that we don't have power. I believe, in fact, that we have more power than anyone in our family—we are naturally attuned to everyone's emotions and can either hold a family together or tear it apart, depending on how we use this power. But we aren't head-of-household because we tend to get caught up more in the drama of life than in the practicalities. We tend to enjoy problems rather than try to fix it, except for the ones that don't need fixing—we like fixing those.

This has been our role—our strengths, and our problems, since time was known as 'time', and it was perfectly natural. We're social creatures for a reason, and we are truly in our element when we deal with feelings, connections, and health. But for everything else, we started along the line to put men in charge of that, maybe because we didn't want their awful responsibilities to start with. I don't know, but the men's job as protector, bread-winner, alliance-maker, war-fighter, politician and handyman is not 'fun', and neither is the unpopular position of HAVING the "last word" on something. And so we gave it up to men and promised, in return to try to 'obey' them. But now, women are really opposed to the whole "obeying" point. And normally not because they don't think that someone in the relationship needs to be obeyed, only they'd rather have their cake and eat it, too. But the men so far, in the last couple of decades, have merely shrugged their shoulders, and found it in themselves to negotiate a position that they spent 1000 generations getting for themselves. I recognize the original roles that my ancestors were good enough to render into a sort of tradition. And because of such, I went out on a limb to be traditional at my wedding. It was important to me that "obey" be in my half of the vows. Strangely, it wasn't that easy. Do you know how long it took me to find "obey" in wedding vows on the internet? The majority of weddings now leave it out of the vows altogether. Some ignore any sort of logic and put it in BOTH vows. I even saw some women on forums who argued that only the man should have obey in his half of the vows, although I don't know if this is just a "Yay! Girl Power!" thing, or if they actually married men who were so pathetically emasculated that they tolerated such vows. It took two hours. AND I'm a good Googler. But every Christian denomination, even the conservative ones, has decided to avoid that vow like the plague, simply because it's "not PC". But my question is… Why? Why should having a man as head-of-household be a cultural taboo? It seems to me that it's a natural desire… But THAT is one of those opinions that I've put in my pocket, especially during most dinner conversations. And then, last week, I picked up "Mere Christianity" because it was recommended to me. I was very startled to see my opinions written down in a way that I couldn't describe them, being that I have been a professional writer for only 2 years and CS Lewis had been, at the point of writing the book, publishing for 16 years. Obviously, he had it down by then and was quite skilled at his craft, and can actually make a persuasive argument, unlike myself. Here's what C.S. Lewis had to say on the subject: "…So much for the Christian doctrine about the permanence of marriage. Something else, even more unpopular, remains to be dealt with. Christian wives promise to obey their husbands. In Christian marriage the man is said to be the 'head'. Two questions obviously arise here. (1) Why should there be a head at all—why not equality? (2) Why should it be the man? (1) The need for some head follows from the idea that marriage is permanent. Of course, as long as the husband and wife are agreed, no question of a head need arise; and we may hope that this will be the normal state of affairs in a Christian marriage. But when there is a real disagreement, what is to happen? Talk it over, of course; but I am assuming they have done that and still failed to reach agreement. What do they do next? They cannot decide by a majority vote, for in a council of two there can be no majority. Surely, only one or other of two things can happen: either they must separate and go their own ways or else one or other of them must have a casting vote. If marriage is permanent, one or other party must, in the last resort, have the power of deciding the family policy. You cannot have a permanent association without a constitution. (2) If there must be a head, why the man? Well, firstly is there any very serious wish that it should be the woman? As I have said, I am not married myself, but as far as I can see, even a woman who wants to be the head of her own house does not usually admire the same state of things when she finds it going on next door. She is much more likely to say 'Poor Mr. X! Why he allows that appalling woman to boss him about the way she does is more than I can imagine.' I do not think she is even very flattered if anyone mentions the fact of her own 'headship'. There must be something unnatural about the rule of wives over husbands, because the wives themselves are half ashamed of it and despise the husbands whom they rule. But there is also another reason; and here I speak quite frankly as a bachelor, because it is a reason you can see from outside even better than from inside. The relations of the family to the outer world—what might be called its foreign policy—must depend, in the last resort, upon the man, because he always ought to be, and usually is much more just to the outsiders. A woman is primarily fighting for her own children and husband against the rest of the world. Naturally, almost, in a sense, rightly, their claims override, for her, all other claims. She is the special trustee of their interests. The function of the husband is to see that this natural preference of hers is not given its head. He has the last word in order to protect other people from the intense family patriotism of the wife. If anyone doubts this, let me ask a simple question. If your dog has bitten the child next door, or if your child has hurt the dog next door, which would you sooner have to deal with, the master of that house or the mistress? Or, if you are a married woman, let me ask you this question. Much as you admire your husband, would you not say that his chief failing is his tendency not to stick up for his rights and yours against the neighbors as vigorously as you would like? A bit of an Appeaser?"

Yep. I, too, was thrilled. I think there's a whole lot more to it than that, mind you. But it's definitely a worthy and dependable name to spit out in defense of men at the dinner table when your feminist friend comes to dinner, and comes with a small pre-set argument. I am the last person who would say that women are not useful, or in any way a lesser person then men. I am extremely proud of my gender. I tend to look upon the most feminine, maternal people with a great respect and jealousy, and the more I am like them, the happier and more at peace I find myself. I feel taken care of, but on the other hand, I feel like everyone respects the role I'm able to provide, and James, my husband, feels more confident in his role by providing it. Anyway, I just wanted to share that little bit of fun with you. I'll post again shortly.

Saturday, May 2, 2009

Keeping it outside the family

I think it is a common agreement among many in the spanking community that they do not let their DD or their spanking interests become public knowledge. No public spankings. In the unlikely instance that the police (or anyone else) ever came to the door on a noise complaint from a worried neighbor, an educated spanko will say, "Oh, we were just getting into it with sex games". This is because most people just won't understand real discipline spanking. They get "BDSM". Ride on the back of that to keep from people considering you a "wife-beater" or "battered wife". They're not going to "get it". Don't even try. What's even BETTER known is, even if you would LOVE to tell your family what you do and how your relationship works, you don't. You shouldn't. But it's hard if you have a family member that REALLY needs it. Take James' family. You've never seen so many girls in one family that need a spanking. It's ridiculous. There's…
  1. My sister-in-law. She's just turned 21, and has more than 10 speeding tickets (all for going significantly (20+ mph) over the speed limit). She's failed most of her college classes, dropped out, is late to everything and parties every night. She's recently started smoking, too. When she speaks, she's nothing but bratty, selfish and sarcastic. What's really horrible about the situation is that she's a good, hard-working girl who just needs a decent, hard-working well-adjusted guy to give her a spanking every day for a year or so, and she'd be fixed right up. She's pretty too… Any guys out there up for a challenge? What's harder about her, is James KNOWS for a FACT that when she was a child she was just as interested in spanking as he was (nothing creepy, just from her keen interest in specific scenes in books like Little House on the Prairie, Caddie Woodlawn, and other books where a discipline spanking is described). But, they haven't talked about it at all for 12 years or so, and never in the context of a DD relationship. However, chances are that she's still into it. Anyway... If a willing (and age appropriate J) guy wants to be set up in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area… I'd make arrangements for the right guy. That's all I'm saying.
  2. James' cousin. Barbara is a hard worker, and dependable when it comes to showing up to family functions. She's a successful lawyer, and she's good at her job. Too bad that she's in her early 30s and there's very little HOPE that she'll ever marry. Even though she's beautiful. Why? Because she's the rudest person you've ever met in your life. You get used to it—her family brushes it off based on the fact that she's OCD and slightly bipolar—but she's not rude because of either of those things. You can tell that she's just rude because she thinks that makes her cool. Don't get me wrong. You can NOT spank OCD or bipolar out of someone, nor should you try, those are real psychological issues. However, neither of those FORCES a person to be rude, and when people tolerate that behavior it just reinforces it. I feel bad for her, because it seems like nobody has ever stood up to her about anything, instead they just refuse to get close to her.
  3. James' other cousin. Hillary is nice, but very lazy. Her parents' house is close to being foreclosed on, and her father lost his job, yet she still won't get her own apartment or make any attempt to pay rent. Far more interested in buying a new cell phone. I don't know if spanking can cure selfish, but I would sure like to see it tried! That's most of James' female relatives! At least in this generation. And they all need a spanking. But not just any spanking—one from a very, very patient guy who cares a lot about results and can see hidden potential. Someone who's not perturbed by a fixer-upper.

James and I actually plan to break the "no telling family" rule one day. We think it would be good to eventually tell James' mother that I do bring in some income, and at least some aspects of what I actually DO. But we want to wait until I'm pregnant with her SECOND grandchild (not the first, but the second). That way, we'll have been married for about six years and she'll be able to see that we're perfectly happy and well-invested in our relationship and that it's something that really, truly works. But we can never tell anyone else. Nobody else would have a chance of getting it. Certainly not MY parents. My brother would understand but he would tell my parents as soon as I told him. I think the most horrible thing, as you can see, is seeing a problem, and thinking it could be fixed, but not being able to offer your advice. Like to James' sister—she might really want a guy who spanks her. I'm 90% sure that she would. But that 10% leaves us in a world of doubt… SHOULD we tell her what we do? Maybe she would find some match on the internet. I don't know what to do. I want to see her leading a better life than she is now. She needs to be reigned in, and her loser-boyfriend, who's she's not even that serious with—ain't gonna do it. He can barely manage his own life! Anyway, you can see how torn I am. I think about it constantly—should I open that door? Or should I do the sensible thing all spankos do—shut the door, lock it, bolt it, and put a heavy chair under the knob just in case. Any opinions or commentary would be appreciated, folks. If you had a sister-in-law that you wanted with a good guy who would do the only thing that would work for her—to spank her—would you finally "Open the door" on the spanking secret? Or should I sew my lips shut?