Actions and Consequences


Last time Sir was off, we were out driving somewhere and talking about our dynamic. Lately I’ve been feeling as if He isn’t paying enough attention to me, or noticing when I am bratty, and so my behavior is just slowly degenerating into backtalking and doing as I please. It’s not what we both want, but without proper Dominant action on His part, how am I to act and respond? I told Him how I felt. He said that if I wanted proper discipline and punishment He was capable of it. We both notice that after a session I am much better behaved. We’ve been embroiled not only in the stress of prepping our home for sale, but our daughter is frankly a major pain in the rear. I will go into that issue in another post. This is where Master and I have our biggest problems, because we parent differently and He was working and not around for so much of her childhood that He let me make so many major decisions regarding her. Now he wants to put His foot down where she is concerned and she and I both resent it – although I know I should not! He is after all her father, my husband, and Master. But old habits die very, very hard.

He was angry with me. She was away for the day with a friend, and when we got home, he needed to use the bathroom. He told me to go into our bedroom and take my pants and panties off and be waiting for Him. When He came out he put our dogs away in the other room. He got out towels and told me to lie face down on the bed. I laughed when I saw two towels and He said “soon you won’t be laughing.” He put my ball gag in and cuffed my wrists together with chain and cuffed my ankles to the spreader bar. Shown above is His anal hook which was soon in place. He said, “There will be nothing gentle about this.”

He used the paddle which He knows I detest. It was not gentle. He had me on all fours so I could not escape His blows or shrink into the mattress. He kept telling me to get up. I was crying after the second hit, and it soon got much much worse. When Sir uses the gag I am always afraid I will choke and we don’t have a safe motion or movement set up. Snot and drool were flowing freely and He came around and pulled my head up and told me to look at Him.

“Do you think this is funny now? DO YOU? ANSWER ME?”

“Will you continue to be rude to me?”

“I think you need more…”

Sir then used His crop to finish His beating. It went on for about 15 minutes but felt like forever. After, He made me suck His cock. He (and I) loved the feel of my silky, crying-swollen lips on His cock. He fucked me and made me wear the hook for the rest of the day as a reminder to be nice. And I am trying.

(We both loved the bruises He left – the best ever.)

Good Girl gone Bad


I used to be a “good” girl. I always behaved, never missed school or work, did exactly what I was told, and rarely even questioned anything. I walked along the straight and narrow path of life. After I met and married Master we had a vanilla relationship marred by me unexpectedly developing major health issues just before our wedding. The problem was not resolved by two major surgeries during the first year of our marriage. I could not return to work, whereas I had previously never missed a day in 11 years. Sir finished His medical Fellowship and we moved away from my family and friends. It put a severe strain on our relationship and I fell into a significant depression. Then after about 9 months we bought a lovely house in a better area I loved, and we began to think about having a family (we were old when we got married and had been dating for 4 years prior.)

My neurologist told me my chronic pain just might ease with the hormones of pregnancy, and he was correct! I was able to return to work and never felt better. Life was wonderful. That was 19 years ago. We ended up having a perfect daughter and on her first birthday, moved to east Texas for a better career opportunity for Sir. Again I was miserable. My pain had returned and was worse than ever, with the needs of picking up and carrying my sweet girl. Too, we were now not just an hour’s drive from family, but 1,500 miles apart. I didn’t know a soul. The first two summers we were here, the heat was hellish. I cried every night for the first 9 months and we went to counseling a few times because I didn’t see how I could stay in such a place. Finally, it dawned on me that I was being childish. I had married Master because I trusted and loved Him. It was up to me to try to make a happy home for Him to return to in the evening. I needed to bloom wherever He planted me. He suggested I get out in the community as soon as our girl could attend day care/preschool. I could tell at about 17 months she was bright – trying to spell out her name and learn to read. I called the two schools which were (at that time) not religiously oriented and found that one accepted toddlers. When she began attending a few mornings each week, I joined a few groups and began volunteering in the community. It saved my life and our marriage. I met some dear friends whom I am still close with today.

Yet I was still increasingly discontent at home and often, not really “present” with Master. I made many decisions about our daughter on my own because He was always at work and I was uncomfortable bothering Him to ask simple questions. When He came home late at night she was asleep and we were both too tired to discuss important matters – or the little unimportant things that so-called normal couples talk about over dinner, before bed or as they prepare for their day in the morning. I was for all intents a single parent – and hated it, growing to resent Him. This did not happen overnight, but over years and years of missing His company, support, and togetherness. The only times we had as a family were His rare evenings and weekends off-call, and vacations once or if we were lucky, twice a year. During these times He was so over-tired it was impossible to talk about my growing unease and tension.

This is how a good girl turns bad.


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This is my beautiful house, the photo taken last spring when the azaleas bloom in east Texas. This house was built in 1936 and we are but the fourth family that has lived in it. Dr. and Mrs. Page built the house and lived in it for many years, selling it to Mr. and Mrs. Harwood who lived in it for a few years until they divorced and sold to Dr. and Mrs. Hayes, who lived here several years, selling to us before they built a larger home at the lake. We have been here for 16 years. It is a very very big house for three people, but we have loved it and made a few improvements, redoing two bathrooms, replacing the roof damaged in a hailstorm, as well as the original driveway.

Previous owners added a new master bathroom, closet, computer room, laundry room, back entry way and breakfast area, fourth bedroom and bathroom. The kitchen is in desperate need of a suitable remodel. The cabinet doors do not close. The appliances are all circa 1980 and the exhaust fan for the stove does not work. We did replace the dishwasher. The microwave sits atop this rigged-up shelf which someone placed in such a way that my spice cabinet door will not open all the way. We replaced 35 windows in the house, which has over 50. We replastered several cracked ceilings. We planted scores of azaleas and other garden shrubs. We have taken loving care of the trees and flowers.

When we moved to this town nearly 19 years ago it was not by my choice. Master came here for his work. I was miserable for the first 9 months, being away from my family and friends, not knowing a soul, stuck in the house with a one year old. I cried every day. We saw a counselor a few times and I finally realized I needed to be a big girl and find a way to bloom where I was planted. My girl grew old enough to go to preschool/daycare, where she blossomed and learned. I joined a few groups and met friends I still have. I became active in my new community doing philanthropic work. We joined a congregation.

But… Still I longed for the smell of the ocean. My friends’ faces. My brothers. My dear parents. All the large and small things one misses when you are used to being a big city girl most of your life! I missed going to concerts and plays, sporting events, eating “good” food at ethnic restaurants… etc etc etc.  Not the least of which, the many and varied shopping opportunities. Things one takes for granted in a city, but not so much in a small town out in a semi-rural area. I am quite certain that a country girl dropped into a big city would feel the precise alienation and weird loneliness I felt on a constant basis. It was just unrelenting.

Master made a promise to me that this would not be our permanent home. He hoped to get ten, maybe 15 good years of earning here. Well, we have been here almost 19. During that time, my dear dad passed away, I was diagnosed with breast cancer, and eventually my mother moved here to be near as our girl grew up.

Yesterday, a For Sale sign was placed in front of our house. It’s with many mixed emotions I finally write the words, “I am going home.”