Tuesday, September 25, 2018

Don't Miss Out

Okay. Right off the bat I’m informing you that this blog entry is a bit of a “lecture” - mixed in with my own experience of course. It has to do with getting smarter and gaining some useful life skills.

The disciplinary part of things was Aunt Kay’s insurance policy to make sure I didn’t go too far off the rails; not only vis a vis general behavior but also with regard to my health. But it took getting beyond my own male ego-brain to realize how smart and practical she was. She had answers and advice for just about everything that came up.

I felt comfortable bringing up absolutely anything I found curious going on with my body. She wanted to know everything. So I didn’t feel like some kind of nerdy hypochondriac when I brought up small stuff. She checked things out, and usually had a remedy on hand (her bathroom cabinets were like a mini drugstore). If not, off to the doctor we went.

Anyway, in my opinion women are generally smarter about a lot of things and health matters tend to be one of them. Now I’m not saying that every single woman fits that description. But I am comfortable with the generalization.  But my point is bigger than health advice. It’s about teamwork and partnership.

DWC wives don’t usually suffer from lack of respect. But not every DWC husband fully values his wife as his most trusted partner, first-source advisor, and confidant. I humbly suggest it is a most worthwhile objective. At least in my own experience, Aunt Kay was my very best friend and that’s coming from someone who has exceptionally deep friendships.

For those who are not inclined to sublimate their ego when appropriate, and take advantage of the full range of the team’s resources.… well I’ll just say you’re missing out.

Since this is such a short posting I am adding a tiny anecdote that my regular readers will enjoy.  I recently joined a therapy group to help me work through the loss of Aunt Kay. Of course no one in the group knows, or needs to, about the DWC part of our life. I don’t want to know what goes on in their bedrooms either.

Anyway, the group leader has a method of structuring the sessions to make sure everyone has adequate time to participate and is not interrupted while doing so. When it is your turn to share, you get a little sand timer. When the sand runs out, you wind down your story. It is actually very effective and the group seems comfortable with it.

Well, the timer she uses is the exact same model as the one Aunt Kay used for the occasional timed spankings. So along with all the good stuff that goes on in the group, I have an inner joke going as I recall what I used to feel when that timer made an appearance.  It’s so interesting how the Universe sometimes provides these subtle little “helpers” to enrich one’s life experiences.

Wednesday, August 8, 2018

Writing Sentences

If you are a regular reader of this blog you have a good idea of the amazing relationship Aunt Kay and I had. In case you are new I’ll give a quick summary.  But you should read previous posts to see what it was all about.

It was a quarter of a century romance; a honeymoon from day one until the end. I adored her and I’d have to say it was the same for her toward me. We genuinely understood one another, put each other first, did just about everything together, and had more fun than anyone had a right to.

Soon after we got together I figured out that she was a whole lot smarter than me. Looking back it should have been obvious immediately. But I had this rare condition called “Male Ego” and it was only after I occasionally shut that guy up for a few minutes that I had that ah ha experience. I was thankfully smart enough to, from that point on, to take advantage of her brains and common sense. But I wasn’t exactly perfect at it; which is of course why punishment was necessary from time to time.

I have said in other places that to this day I am grateful for the person she molded me into. Even though she’s gone, her guidance is like a Jiminy Cricket conscience on my shoulder. Here’s a small example of that character building.

Early on we moved into a nice neighborhood; a real “Leave it to Beaver” environment. For those who don’t know the reference, it was nice, well-kept houses next to one another. People were friendly and stopped by to chat on occasion. You know, with the sweet grandma from down the block who rings your bell with cookies. Our kids loved it.

At the time I was gung ho about my career; long work hours and my head filled with work stuff all the time. So I was sometimes inadvertently rude to the neighbors; pretty much ignoring them. Little things like acknowledging thier wave when I pulled into the driveway and waving back or having a two-minute conversation.

She kept asking me to be friendlier. She didn’t expect me to glad hand the neighborhood like I was running for mayor. Just be more aware and polite. I always agreed but very little changed. There were a couple of spankings that got my attention for a while. But I always returned to my self-absorbed ways.

Then one day while the kids were away she at me down for a serious talk about it. I never liked those “serious talks”. Across the table she locked into my eyes and told me how frustrated she was with my continuing rudeness. She pointed out that I had been spanked twice for that and wondered why nothing had changed. I made a lame attempt at explaining; which she correctly identified as “just agreeing with no intention of changing anything.”

When she told me I would have to write sentences I didn’t even know what she was talking about. I quickly found out. I had to write “I will be respectful and friendly to the neighbors at all times” one hundred times – and neatness counted. We were already a DWC couple, so I went to my office and began work. When I took a break I was sent right back in and told I could have dinner, or snacks, after it was done.

I worked as carefully as I could and when I presented it to her, more than two hours later, she looked it over fairly quickly, asked me if there were a hundred sentences there, and took my word for it. My wrist and arm hurt. But I was glad it was over. But then she told me to go into the bedroom for a spanking. I protested that it was unfair and unreasonable. I was outraged. She, on the other hand, stayed cool as a cucumber and repeated firmly that I had best march in there without any further fuss.

The spanking was definitely one of her inspired ones. Plenty of rapid smacks with a variety of implements and special emphasis when she reminded me of having said she was “unfair and unreasonable.” She didn’t appreciate that at all.

I guess the writing and then the spanking, which seemed like it would never end, was too much because I cried and cried. Afterwards I got cleaned up and we had time for a nice dinner before the kids came home from their friend’s house. I felt oddly peaceful and we just really enjoyed hanging out together like usual.

I can say truthfully that it changed me. I became friendlier with people in the neighborhood and at work. To this day I instinctively pay attention to people and take an interest in their affairs. And I enjoy it. As I said, it’s a small example of the character-building she did for me. God Bless her!

Sunday, June 17, 2018

The Spanking Machine

I’ve always been inclined toward the metaphysical side of things. But it still blows my mind the way the Universe seems to engineer circumstances to guide one toward the fulfillment they need. I think you might agree, or at least give it some thought, when you read this story. It begins with the worst time of my life, Aunt Kay’s passing. My sorrow from having lost the amazing woman I no longer see every day is enormous.

Kay and I had always been passionate about helping couples achieve greater intimacy through the DWC Lifestyle. But she also cared deeply about the single men who reached out to her over the years. I know I truly felt for them as well. I remembered my years of not knowing how to find a spanking partner. It’s more than intimidating; it’s finding a needle in a haystack kind of quest. But there are many needles in the haystack even if it’s a daunting task. And then there were the older men, like me now, who wrote about losing their DWC life partner. I wished I could give some of those guys a hug.

Anyway what was Aunt Kay’s advice? Keep looking, communication is the only avenue to the goal, and she said there is no shame in engaging a professional disciplinarian - none at all. And when occasionally she suggested that someone consider one of those spanking machines, I honestly found it a bit pathetic.

The reason I began by alerting you to my metaphysical leanings is because I still speak to Aunt Kay’s Spirit. Not like some kind of Medium with a lot of flair and accoutrements. I just genuinely feel her at times and it’s so powerful, and tangible in the present, that I know she’s there. And beyond that, or mixed in with it, is how extremely well we understood one another. So I often “ask her” what to do about something and because I knew her so well, the answer comes to me.

Near the end we talked about my future discipline needs and she was adamant that I should not neglect them. She wished we were still part of an active DWC community because she would have preferred a DWC wife to get involved. But that’s simply not in the cards. She also specifically suggested a couple of professionals she knew and felt good about. But that didn’t really work out either. So when I found myself needy with no viable disciplinarians accessible, I swallowed my pride and ordered a spanking machine. The irony of how I had previously felt about such things in the past did not escape me.  Even though they were a practical recommendation in certain circumstances, I ultimately thought they were just very sad.

Now here’s where the part about the Universe engineering circumstances comes in. My original plan was to take my time learning how to use the thing and experience a few light sessions. It’s designed so you can attach almost any implement to it and adjust the intensity and speed. I was planning to begin with a couple of her lighter duty implements.
Then I was pulled over for really speeding – first time in years. I was driving her car (she had the nice fast one). I usually drive my much slower, economy hatchback. Unbelievably, even though Highway Patrolman said I was going much too fast, he let me off with a warning. After he departed I sat in the car to get my wits about me.  There’s a cute little stuffed frog with big eyes that she always kept on the console. It was staring up at me and I knew that Kay would not have let that incident slide. I knew there were going to be consequences, courtesy of the machine, the first time I used it.
I knew in that instant that my plan to get gradually acquainted with it was gone. The machine has settings for both speed and intensity and I knew I couldn’t allow myself to make it any less than she would have. I found myself experiencing that same dreadful nervousness that comes when a disciplinary session is inevitable.

It took a while to get the machine, with one of her favorite canes attached to it, set up just right. Then I got into position and activated it. The first strike of that little monster stung like the dickens. And given the speed I had set it to, the next ones came in rapid succession. I panicked; exactly in the way we do when a spanking begins – with a desperate, uncontrollable, urge to escape it. You know what I mean. There’s a reason why the woman locks your arm and restrains you with her leg when giving an OTK session. I know some men are stoic and can remain still during a session. I’m not one of them.
I chickened out and switched the machine off after four or five strokes. My bottom was screaming and I knew, without a doubt, that every stroke had caused a welt. But I knew that Aunt Kay would not have been lenient when it came to speeding. The last time she addressed that was many years ago when it cost us a lot of money and traffic school. When you hear the phrase “you’re going to set a spanking you’ll never forget”, it’s referring to one of those.
I very hesitantly turned the machine back on again and endured more strokes. I don’t know how many. But looking in the mirror later convinced me that she would have been satisfied.

I think this machine thing will open a whole new, and unexpected, chapter in my disciplinary life. It’s certainly unexplored territory for me; physically, mentally, and emotionally. It’s a very weird thing to be responsible for both sides of the DWC encounter.

By the way, there is a great video showing the machine deploying a cane on the site below.


Tuesday, April 3, 2018


Aunt Kay has left this earth a better place and she surely left me a better person.  Some of you knew her in-person. But mostly she was an icon in the domestic discipline community.  In this brief farewell I want to share a few things so that when you think of her, I hope it will be with a more fully rounded viewpoint.

She was an exceptionally talented artist and left a substantial body of work. Her favorite subjects were, by far, animals and nature images. People regularly remarked at how life-like and almost “alive” they are. But her portraits are also beautiful. She also taught art to young children and was adored by them.

She was a spiritual person who knew, for a fact, that we are all just individual parts of one thing called “Life”.  She firmly believed that every person is valuable and important and she was committed to kindness and generosity. While you did not want to get on her bad side, she was not a judgemental person at all. She hated injustice and accepted people for who they were and encouraged people to fully live their life, and as a part of it, their fantasies.

She always said to embrace who you are without guilt or regret. And if you needed to be in a DWC relationship, you should have no more second thoughts about it than if you liked golf or fishing. The work she put into the Disciplinary Wives Club is best understood as just another part of her generosity. She wanted to liberate and educate people like us so that we could aspire to have fulfillment in the unique way that we need to.

If you never met her in real life, please take my word that we lost a truly great woman. She touched and changed lives in many ways, the DWC
being only one of them.

I’ll talk about myself and where my life goes in another post sometime. Right now it’s hard enough just to tell you this, typing through my misery.

Saturday, February 10, 2018

Timed Spankings

Sands of Time

 “Sands of time” is one of those truly beautiful phrases someone created. The image of sand falling, grain by grain, inexorably from one bulb to the other is a perfect metaphor for life itself. At least that is how I experience when I am writing or philosophizing. However, when that hourglass-shaped device is measuring the duration of a spanking it changes into something entirely unpoetic. It becomes demon-like – unstoppable and unforgiving. This essay is about the practice of timed spankings.

My wife and I had already been in a robust DWC relationship for many years when we met another couple (she was one of the most diligent disciplinarians I have met) and we learned that the wife used a mechanical kitchen timer when she administered punishment. I never discovered exactly how she determined what the length of a particular spanking should be. But I did find out, courtesy of her, what it was like to have something marking off the time of a spanking. It was infuriating how ridiculously slowly time seemed to move

Quite a few years passed until one day my wife just plunked a tiny sand timer down in front of me before a spanking. I was already in the position she wanted and it was not discussion time. That little three-minute timer was a fiendish reminder of the woman with the kitchen timer. “A measly three minutes” you think? If you every try it with a timer let me know that you think then. Three minutes of vigorous, uninterrupted bathbrushing left me very repentant and marked for almost two weeks.

Being on the receiving end, I really don’t know what the psychology is like for the disciplinarian. But my suspicion is that working against the clock pumps up something akin to competitive juices and it sure felt like she accelerated and amplified everything as it came closer to the end. Like that last big push right before the finish line.

We have a very inexpensive set of five little plastic timers in the kitchen. They are calibrated for; one, two, three, five, and ten minutes. I use them all the time for cooking and she knows exactly where to find them.

Timing of spankings is not a regular part of what she seems to prefer. But the little monsters show up every so often; again don’t ask me why. Maybe she thinks I need variety to keep things interesting. Or maybe she needs the variety. But knowing her, if I were to ask about it she would probably have some incredible reasoning that would blow my mind. Oh I am sure she would not mind in the least if I asked. But when I ask about things like that it brings them further to her attention and they “show up” more often.

Well, even though I have already used up enough of your “time” for today, since I began with references to poetry I will indulge myself. I deeply appreciate you taking a few moments to visit with me and I extend to you this good wish

“May the sands of time run gently through the hourglass of your life.”  Me