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.)


Starting Over, in D/s


You may be asking, why stay in a loveless marriage if you were so unhappy? There I was living with my mother, contemplating life. I still spoke with my friend often and he advised me to move on. I went for a little counseling. My daughter was very angry with me – she and I had always been so close and now we were slightly estranged and I knew I had made a terrible mistake not putting her first as I had ALWAYS done. I would go to services at my congregation (I have always been very faithful even when I strayed before, knowing in our faith that God is a forgiving God if we repent our sins and truly ask for forgiveness) and wonder if I was an innately evil, sinful person. I knew in my heart that whatever my husband had done all those years to push me away he had not done out of malice, but by being neglectful. Whereas I had acted wrongly over and over. And he did not even know (and probably never would) all I had done.

At first, I refused to even talk with him, my hurt and anger were burning so brightly. As time passed, he kept begging and asking me to sit down and talk things over, even when I would say things like “what about an amicable divorce?” and “you can have all the art.” Eventually though, I realized after talking with friends who have been through such things, that I was mostly feeling very hurt. And also, lonely. I love my mother, we’ve always been best friends, but after being someone’s wife for almost 20 years it was not the same. Finally, I agreed to come back to the house to talk things over. He came to pick me up. We were both polite, chatting about our daughter etc. Once we got there it felt strange. He started by apologizing and said he felt that everything which happened was HIS FAULT. That he drove me to do what I did by not paying enough attention to me, by working such long crazy hours, and by being demanding and difficult when he was home. That he knew he tended to speak in a demeaning manner because we had discussed this many times before. That he couldn’t blame me for doing what I did and he wasn’t surprised I hadn’t run away sooner.

Well, I want to tell you I sat in that chair with my mouth open. I started bawling like a baby and could not stop. I have never cried so hard in my life – it was like the floodgates opened and couldn’t close again. He finally had to come over and put his arms around me because I was crying so hard. He asked me to just think about things, to give it some time, and to please try to forgive him. He was crying too by now and he said he would do anything – ANYTHING to keep me. He made me promise to just think about it before we did anything else. He went on and said he would like to start “seeing” me like for a date if I was agreeable, and for us to talk on the phone every day. I couldn’t believe this was my husband! My husband wanted to talk with me? And, he felt responsible??? WHAAAAT????????

So, this was our new fresh beginning. I did think about things. I thought alot. I did not move right back in. I agreed to go to counseling with him – and boy, did that have some rocks in the road too!  One night we went to dinner and I got up the courage to tell him I wanted to live a D/s lifestyle – and I wanted him to be my Dominant. And he was not shocked, amused, or surprised. He didn’t laugh or walk away. He and I have both been trying very hard to make our marriage and new relationship work. And several weeks later as our daughter was getting out of school for summer, I moved back to our home. It’s not perfect, but IT IS GENERALLY MUCH BETTER. To be honest, in many ways He is a better Dominant than I am a submissive, because all those years of being dominant have made me bratty, sassy, and independent.  We are a work in progress. It’s not always easy and in fact some days are downright difficult. But we are still together and still trying!

Crime(s) and Punishment, the end


At about the time I was working on the book and chatting with my mentor, I met this other man online and he wanted to be my Dominant. I was fascinated and intrigued. My husband and I were barely talking, our relationship was very rocky, and it was so awesome to have this man who cared about me; wanted to know what I was wearing every single day, wanted me to text him when I got up and before bed, told me all about himself, and wanted to know all about me! He wanted to listen to me. He told me I was submissive. He gave me tasks and rules. He told me he could tell I craved to be his; to see him, talk with him, feel his touch, and be his in every way.

Do you know how tempting and desirable that is to someone who is feeling emotionally weak, needy, and insecure? My mentor warned me. He told me over and over again to not get involved with this predator. When he found out that I actually did go to visit this idiot, he was furious with me. I was furious with myself. The worst is coming.

As I said, my husband and I had been going through a rough patch. One night he came home and saw a receipt on the counter. It was for our daughter’s high school yearbook. He said, “What’s this?” I replied, “It’s for the yearbook. She wanted it, so I paid for it. You save a few dollars if you order ahead.”   He yelled, “She doesn’t need that! Why do you get her every single thing she asks for! Stop constantly buying shit for her!”

Well, I must admit, I lost it. That was the straw which broke the camel’s back. In all our years together I never really raised my voice to him – well, maybe once or twice in a petty argument – but I screamed at him now. I was so, so angry! I told him how ridiculous it was to deprive our child, of all kids, of an end-of-year treat such as a yearbook to remember her high school times. I ranted that every kid, even “poor white trash” children’s parents manage to scrape the money together to buy a yearbook. I said I was completely over him questioning me on purchases when he is never there and we have so much money it is insane. I realize his aim is to be able to retire at an early age, but the constant harping on me to do better and save and scrimp is demeaning and draining. I told him I was tired of being alone, and tired of raising her by myself and having no support and never being told I am loved and never getting thanked for anything. I let everything out. I went on and on and at the end I told him I was not even sure I wanted to be married to him any longer. I told him I wanted to move out. Well – he was shocked. Just shocked!

It still amazes me two people can live in the same house and be so oblivious to one another’s feelings and needs. Suffice it to say, I did move out. I went to live with my mother about 15 minutes away, and we shared having our daughter. The weeks he worked, I had her and the weeks he was off, he had her (and the dogs.)  And, we probably would have ended up getting a divorce, except, one day our girl was doing something on the computer at home and she found my alt account and my twitter account. They did not tell me. He hired a private investigator to stalk me. He knew exactly what I was doing and who I was contacting. This was right before I went to see the idiotic fake poseur who wanted to be my dominant. Even now it sort of makes me mad because my husband had the chance to stop me from going but didn’t.

Let’s step back to this jackass who thought he was a Dominant. He told me to come visit him and spend the weekend. He was going to take me to a D/s club/dungeon he knew and show me to his friends. We would play several times with his toys and see how it went. He would not push me. It was a trial. He told me how nice his house was and all the paraphernalia he had and all the exciting things he would do to me when he got his hands on me. Things he had done to his submissives in the past. Before that happened he wanted me to stop wearing panties and call him Sir during all our conversations. I balked because I told him I was not yet sure I was a submissive.  However, I agreed to come see him. He lived over 90 miles away and it started pouring down rain on the trip there. I got lost and it was getting dark and I finally found his place. I almost did not go in. It was an old shack. It was a modular, or trailer-style home which is common in the country in east Texas for those who can’t afford better. However, it was getting late, it was dark and wet out and I was tired and over-excited from stress and the build-up. I went in. Mind you, he had sent me some pictures of himself beforehand. Why, this was not him at all! Forgive the language, but this was some grotesquely obese acne-scarred fat fuck! I started to cry. (No one has heard the details of this until now…) He told me to come to him and I was so at a loss that I did. He gathered me somehow onto his lap and put his big flabby arms around me and immediately began to kiss me. He kissed me long and hard, thrusting his tongue deep into my mouth and then reached under my blouse and bra and started to caress my breasts. I thought, “Maybe there is hope. Appearance is not everything” He kept at this for quite some time but I could not maintain my position on his lap and and started sliding. He stopped and asked if I had eaten and if I was hungry. I admitted I was hungry and we went to a local restaurant to eat. We did not talk much during our late dinner. I was so shocked by his appearance. When we returned to his place he told me to get ready for bed and join him in bed. I did. His home was so filthy I was appalled. In bed he did not do anything to me but wanted me to pinch his nipples hard and he attempted to fuck me with his teeny tiny dick. It honestly was the smallest one I have ever seen. I could not feel him penetrate me. He only had one bed and I could not sleep the entire time I was with him. He never showed me a toy or anything related to D/s. He played games on his computer and expected me to cook meals for him. When I left, he asked why/where I was going, and I reminded him I had a daughter and mother back where I lived. I never had any further contact with this idiot. I can’t believe I was so dumb, stupid, misled, short-sighted,  or whatever word you would like to use. I always thought I was fairly intelligent but I must admit I was wrong!

The worst thing which happened is my husband and daughter confronted me about this in front of my elderly mother. I WANTED TO DIE. It was the worst moment of my life. Not when I met the fake dominant – not that my husband and daughter knew; it was that they chose to confront me in front of my mother; my daughter’s grandmother. There was no need to do that. It was utterly humiliating and I still seethe when I think of it. But my mother loves and forgives all. She is a living saint.

When I spoke later with my friend; my mentor, about what happened, he of course said, “I told you not to go.”  But he too, was hurt and angry for me that my husband would do such a terrible thing. He still to this day doesn’t understand how/why I am back with him. But you see, nobody understands the real reason I am back with him is because I am a masochist and this is my living punishment.

There will be a bit more about what happened afterward…

Crime(s) and Punishment, the tale unfolds


Life continued. I had a husband and daughter who loved and needed me, so I put all my warped desires and thoughts aside and went on in my blah mundane existence. You know, the cooking, cleaning, chauffering, paying bills, lying awake nights and wondering whether anyone truly appreciated what I did and why was I not grateful and happy for all I had? Because I did have so much. So much more than 90% of women will ever have. We live in a huge house and I am able to cook whatever I want and wear nice clothing, carry pretty handbags, have more jewelry than I know what to do with, etc. A lady comes once weekly to help clean my house. Someone else mows our lawn. I have free time to volunteer and not work. All of you will say I am blessed beyond words. But there is more to life than material things. What I wanted was companionship and not being left alone to raise our daughter. I didn’t want to be the one to make the hard decisions and always always answer “at work” when anyone asked where my husband was and why he was not with me/us. I didn’t also want to be second-guessed after having made a decision – that’s just not nice. Or to be told, “why did you spend so much money on that? Why did you get that for her? She does not need it!” Maybe… I did all those things because you were never around and it was being the dad she never had…?   {sigh}

When the Fifty Shades of Grey book came out, I saw it at my local Sam’s Club. Nobody was even talking about it really yet. My paperback is a first edition. I was intrigued by this black book and picked it up. I had already read some mildly kinky things before, and quite a bit of romance chick lit. I was hooked. I think I read it three times and went back and bought the other two sequels. I knew this was what I wanted in a relationship! Not the billionaire part, but the Dom/sub relationship. As I’ve already written, I believe I’ve been naturally submissive since childhood, but the way my husband and I were living was completely the antithesis of what I needed and wanted. I do NOT like being the dominant partner, however that is slowly who I have been molded into.

I couldn’t imagine explaining this to him. How does one explain such a deep, dark, crazy, debased and ingrained thing to someone? Instead, I realized how popular this book was and suddenly everyone worldwide was reading and talking about it. I am a writer and in fact studied writing as part of my university undergraduate degree. I decided if E L James could write and publish such a thing (it actually is very poorly written) then I was going to do the same! So I wrote a D/s love story. It took me several years, but it is complete and I have actually submitted it to agents and publishers (sadly, no takers yet.) One well-known NY agent thought it was quite good, but does not represent that style of work…

During the time I was writing, I knew I needed to know some people who actually “did” D/s full time 24/7 so I could ask questions, to get it right in my book. I got online again on some of those websites, as I did before. I created profiles and chatted with people. As before,  I met some real losers and a few nice folks. I met a wonderful, kind, generous, caring, intelligent man who became my D/s mentor. He had been in the lifestyle for over thirty years and told me anything I wanted to know. He was not interested in anything beyond friendship and play sessions with me. (I must admit we did play together once.)  But we became good friends and could discuss anything with each other. He was the one who warned me about the faker I fell for and nearly destroyed my marriage over.

To be continued again…

Crime(s) and Punishment


About the time dear daughter was becoming a real little person and learning to be self-sufficient, I began to discover the internet. I bought and sold some antique collectibles on eBay (I still do from time-to-time) and somehow or other I discovered alt.come, fetlife, and all the other nasty dirty things neglected wives can find and get into trouble with! You should know that Sir does not read my blog and still to this day does not know a great deal of this story. I know I should tell him however we have been through so much and it would hurt Him deeply. I don’t know if or when I will ever divulge all of this. Honestly, there is no real point when you hear the Awful Terrible which He does know.

I chatted with many willing participants some of whom were right in my area. Some of these men were idiots, jerks, poseurs, and fakes. Many were nice caring people like you and me, simply looking for someone else who understood their dark needs. I shared my phone number with a few, then regretted it and immediately blocked them. I texted with some once or twice, then that was that. Some… I met in person. I know this was probably the stupidest, most foolhardy thing I have ever done. I risked being raped, attacked, killed or kidnapped. That never happened.

What did happen is that after every encounter during those early years, I would come home and immediately delete the contact from my computer and/or phone. I suffered from terrible guilt I suppose. It was a mean thing to do, to not at least tell this or that person why I did it…

I was wracked with guilt and stopped after a couple of years. I knew it was wrong and I was a horrible wife, mother and person in general. I stopped looking on any site having to do with bdsm, and thought it was my destiny to live in a vanilla marriage and be unhappy. A few years later I was diagnosed with chronic daily migraine, and then breast cancer, and I thought God was punishing me. I deserved all this and so much more…

To be continued…

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.”