November 27, 2005

Explaining Us

I phoned the costume fitter at work on Tuesday morning, prior to rehearsal, and asked her if we could have a lunch date. I have known her many years so this wouldn't seem strange. She agreed to meet with me and we ended up going for coffee instead as it was earlier in the day.

She seemed very comfortable and friendly as ever, which made me almost think that things were fine after all and didn't need explaining. But I also was thinking about going home afterward and admitting to Daddy that I hadn't told her and wondering how he would react to that. I suspect he wouldn't have been pleased.

So I just said, "--------, I noticed the other day during my fitting that you saw I had some marks on my thighs and ummmm... bottom (gulp). I noticed you were looking at them and I hoped maybe I could explain to you in case you were concerned."

She: "I wasn't concerned, no."

Me: "You weren't?"

She: "No love, it's none of my business."

Me: "Oh. Well. Umm. (stammer stutter gulp) I just wanted to make
sure you weren't worried about me."

She: "No dear. Not for a minute. I've been in this business a long time,
you see."

Me: "Oh. Alright then. I just wanted to make sure you knew it was all -
uhhhh - consensual."

She: "Of course love. Don't give it another thought."

(enormous awkward pause)

Me: "When you said you've been in this business a long time, did you
mean you've seen things like this before?"

She: "Of course!"

Me: (astonished) "Really? Anyone on OUR cast?"

She: (laughing) "Honey, I cannot disclose that kind of information. It's

Me: (suddenly realising this means she won't tell anyone about me
either) "Oh yes, of course. Right. Yes. Thank you."

(mad fast sipping)

She: "Shall we get back to work then?"

Me: "Yes please."


And THAT was that. It was easier than I thought it would be in many ways. I am looking back on it now and wondering why part of me was almost a little disappointed that there wasn't more to it. I imagine my life with Daddy, at times, to be completely shocking, so much so in fact that I think I almost felt let down that she wasn't a little more distressed or curious or worried or something. I must be crazy to think like that! How could I want to upset and worry a little old lady?

On the other hand, I was also relieved that she was handling it so well, particularly after she had seemed so uncomfortable the other day during the fitting. But perhaps I was projecting my own discomfort upon her and imagining she was more concerned than she truly was.

It has been an interesting experience, at any rate. This is only the second time in my life that I have had this kind of information shared with anyone outside the lifestyle. The other time it was Daddy who told some people, and that was much more embarrassing than this was in the end.

Note to Ms Deidre: It's Juno and the Paycock (Sean O'Casey) that I am working on presently. It's a lovely depressing story and I have had to work VERY hard on my accent so I match everyone else! (I'm originally from the States too.) Sometimes that accent works in my favour but not when we're performing the old Irish classics!

November 21, 2005


I've neglected my blog, only this time Daddy has too so I'm not in trouble for it. We've been busy!

Something embarrassing happened to me on Friday. Actually something happened on Thursday first.

On Thursday night I got in trouble for disobeying Daddy on purpose. I had been sick for a couple of days (sore throat and fever and chills - yuck) and Daddy had been very strict about taking care of me. I was getting regular temperature takings (eww) and being sent to bed early and he was making me take a boatload of vitamin pills which is one of the things I hate worst in the world. I mean, I HATE taking vitamin pills. They're so big and they smell disgusting and I just have the hardest time swallowing pills. He won't coddle me with vitamin drops and vitamin gum and all those new things I want so much. He says I am to just stop being naughty and take the vitamins. I usually take them after he leaves for work and after a couple of days of it I just started putting them back in the bottle instead of taking them. Little did I know that he was checking.

On Thursday night he asked me, out of the blue, if I'd taken my vitamin that morning. When he gets a certain tone in his voice I KNOW I'm busted and I fessed up right away because lying to him gets me in just horrible trouble and it's not worth it. No matter how angry he's going to be, it's always better to tell him the truth. So I just told him straight away that I'd put it back in the bottle because I felt better. He said, "Do you have anything else you want to tell me?" and I told him that I'd done it the day before too. He said, "I know," so I was REALLY lucky that I told him or I would have in way more trouble.

As it was, I was in trouble enough. I got sent to bed right after dinner, at 7:30, and had to stand in the corner for a half hour while he kept me waiting. Then he came in and gave me a big talking-to about deliberate disobedience and the importance of taking care of my health. By the time we got to the actual punishment part I was already crying because I knew it was going to be bad and I was feeling terrible for trying to trick him. He took down my pants and panties and I got a hand spanking over his lap. Then he made me lie down on the bed and he gave me ten licks with his belt. After that he put me to bed.

Then, Friday came. On Friday I had a costume fitting with the theater for a show that is going up in December. The costume fitter is a lady I have known for years and I have never been shy about stripping down in front of her while she takes measurements and pins costumes. Without thinking, I did my usual quick peel, and suddenly realised that I was marked and she could see it. I didn't remember on my own: I remembered because she suddenly couldn't look at me and seemed to be stuttering and embarrassed. She didn't say anything about it, and neither did I. We both just pretended that my bottom wasn't striped with belt marks and tried to carry on with the business of fitting my dress and bustle, but it was so embarrassing I thought I was going to catch on fire.

When Daddy got home from work I told him about it and he laughed and laughed while I buried my head in his chest and he stroked my hair and said that he was glad that I wouldn't disobey him about vitamins in the future. What an experience.

November 14, 2005

Non-Physical Aspects of Being Daddy's Girl

In our relationship, a large part of what we do is psychological rather than physical. Making the decision to live this lifestyle is much more than committing to the physical aspects. It involves a mindset that is completely opposite to everything we are taught about growing up and the need to become independant, self-reliant adults.

I am not an independant self-reliant adult. That does not mean I do not have that capacity but it means I choose not to use it. I have, in my life, been completely independant, before I married Daddy. But since then I have chosen to give him control over many things the average woman decides for herself.

I ask Daddy's permission to go out. He decides what I will wear and what I will eat. He decides when I am required to have a nap. I ask his permission to have a snack.

Much of this is purely psychological. Daddy has never told me no, that I may not have a snack. Never once. And yet I ask every time and do not assume he will say yes. I prepare myself to accept his decisions in every case. I do not always agree with him or like what he decides. (I have also learned that arguing or disobeying Daddy is very unwise. Something to consider while looking at the pattern on the floor, upturned over his knee.)

Discipline, even, is not all physical. Although I am usually spanked when I am disobedient, forgetful, or misbehaved, there are other parts of discipline that are very much a part of Daddy's repertoire. (It should also be noted that spanking is not the ONLY physical discipline in his arsenal either, but I'll talk about that another time.)

Non-physical discipline includes other types of restictions or requirements. For example, I have sometimes been grounded for punishment. Being grounded means I am not allowed to accept invitations from friends to social events. When grounded, I am only allowed to go out for work or household chores (like grocery shopping). I HATE being grounded.

I have sometimes been required to write essays for Daddy about my misbehaviour.

I am sometimes sent to my room, or required to take a nap or go to bed early when he feels I am being grouchy. This is something I particularly loathe. There was one incident I may never forget when I was spanked for being mouthy and sent to bed at 4:30 in the afternoon. That was torturous!! When I am sent to bed I am not allowed to read, watch television, talk on the telephone, or do ANYTHING but lie quietly. It is also humiliating when people phone and I hear Daddy's voice say, "She's gone to bed for the night," knowing that people are going to ask me why I went to bed so early.

Another (sort of) non-physical aspect of discipline, for us, is sexual. When I am being punished for a serious misbehaviour, I am often not permitted to have any sexual climax. He might touch me, tease me, bring me close, and leave me shaking and gasping and beggin, but will not let me climax. And that's another rule in our house. I am not allowed to reach climax, EVER, without Daddy's permission.

Sometimes I am sent to the corner to "think", another form of non-physical discipline. It is often accompanied by physical discipline, and often the thinking is meant to be time to consider the fate of my bottom so I can get good and scared before he punishes me.

There have also been times when I have diapered as punishment. This is part of a whole "experience" of being little by force. It means that Daddy takes me down from feeling like a little girl, to feeling like an infant. It's a psychological experience and it has always been decreed as a result of forgetting my place as his little girl and trying to be too adult. For example, this happened once when I made a decision to take a job without talking to Daddy about it first.

He said that although he would have supported my wishes, this was the kind of thing that demonstrated me forgetting my place as his little girl and his place as my Daddy.

So, I was assigned a weekend of being a baby in all ways. This meant not being allowed to use my computer or do anything adult like that. I was allowed to watch children's movies and colour and draw. I was not allowed to drink coffee (that might have been the worst part!) and instead I was given juice in a bottle. I had to eat babyfood he made for me in the blender (yuck!!!), I was diapered the entire time, and made to take naps.

These kinds of events in our life reinforce our roles and bring up enormously conflicting emotions within me. I am sexually aroused by being treated this way, even as I am simultaneously embarrassed and uncomfortable with it. And Daddy knows just how to exploit those feelings.

Little things like this. On Saturday night we went for dinner with friends. Waiting in line for a table, I mentioned to my girlfriend that I had been feeling a little under the weather that day. Daddy said, "We'd better hope you don't have a temperature," and brushed his hand across my bottom. When he says and does these little things I know exactly what he means. While the friends notice nothing and move on to new topics of conversation, I am smiling falsely, pretending to listen, while my head is suddenly filled with images of Daddy's nasty rectal thermometer and big jar of vaseline!!

I have wandered way off my original topic. Non-physical aspects of being Daddy's girl. The physical and the psychological overlap very sweetly. Little touches that mean nothing in the vanilla world are filled with promise and nervous tingles. Little remarks that are easily breezed by, linger in my ears, and make my blood rush in my ears.

November 07, 2005


The weekend was lovely. I enjoy it when Daddy is home with me during the days and we can focus on each other completely without being distracted by thoughts of work and intrusions outside our life together.

On Saturday afternoon, Daddy gave me a bath. I love it when he takes care of me that way. He runs the water warm and deep in the tub, undresses me gently and helps me in, holding my hand so I won't slip. He sits on the edge of the bath while I'm inside and he washes my hair for me. He's good at making sure I don't get soap in my eyes. He uses the bathbrush to scrub my back for me, that instrument of occasional torture used in such a loving way. I know he loves the fact that it conjures up those images even as he uses it so sweetly. He washes me with such close attention to all the slippery wet girl parts, gently nudging and caressing them with soap and gently insistent probing fingers. There is no being shy: I may not hide anything. Bath time is bubbly and blushy and warm and sweet.

After the bath, Daddy wraps me in a towel and dries me all over. He carries me to the bed and I lie on my back while he kisses me, tastes me, makes me shudder and wriggle and explode, heaving under his mouth and fingertips, gasping for breath.

Sometimes when we have nowhere to go and nothing to do, Daddy wants me to stay little all day. Like Saturday. Then he rubs me with the baby oil and puts me in a diaper under my pajamas so I can be his baby for the whole day and spend the day snuggling in his lap. I love the weekends.

November 04, 2005

Punished Take Two

I didn't forget to tell the rest. I was just embarrassed about it. Sometimes when these feelings are fresh and the bruises are still tender it's hard to talk about them. We've never shared these things publicly: I feel like a shamed child spanked in front of my friends.

After dinner he sent me to the bedroom to await my punishment. Awaiting punishment means that I am to stand in the corner with my hands behind my back. In the corner I am not permitted to speak or move without his permission. At times I have been cornered for close to an hour. I hate being cornered because there is nothing to do but wait, imagining what's going to happen to you and getting more and more nervous about it. When you're waiting in the corner you can feel your breath getting fluttery and your bottom tensing up in apprehension. This time cornertime was about twenty minutes.

When he came into the bedroom I heard him enter and sit down on the spanking chair. The spanking chair sits in the corner of our bedroom, a wooden chair without arms, used only for that purpose. I'm not allowed to turn around when he comes into the room, even though I always want to. I want to see what implement he's holding, I want to see what look is on his face. But I didn't turn around because that would get me into more trouble. I held still and waited for him to speak.

After awhile he told me to come to him and so I went and stood before him. He wasn't holding an implement, which I thought boded well for me, but it turned out I was incorrect. He talked to me about what I had done for a very long time, making me tell him what I did wrong and why it was an important rule and also admitting that I knew I had broken this rule before. This is the hardest thing to admit because conceding that I broke the rule again means that I recognize the last punishment wasn't effective in helping me learn my lesson. He asked if I remembered what happened to me last time I left the fireplace on and I really couldn't. He told me that I was grounded for a weekend the last time, and clearly that wasn't severe enough to drive home his point. He said that this time he needed to make sure I was listening.

Then he told me to go to the bed, which is unusual, since usually spankings are delivered over his lap. I did as I was told, and laid down on my tummy on the bed. Honestly by this point I think I was hyperventillating a little bit. Even though I love and trust Daddy completely, being punished really scares me and Daddy is very serious about real punishments when he deems them necessary. So I lay there breathing fast, and he put some pillows down for me to drape over to lift my bottom up higher, and placed his hands on my back and told me to calm down and breathe slower. He rubbed my back while I tried to calm down.

Then he told me to close my eyes and concentrate on breathing even slower and I did that. Meanwhile I could hear him doing something behind me. It turned out he was whittling a ginger root over the garbage can. Now, apparently this is a semi-common practice in the S&M world, but I was completely blissfully ignorant of it until last night.

Daddy said he was going to give me something to help me imprint a stronger memory of the rule and the punishment. At this point I still didn't know what he was up to but I did tense up when he pulled my pajamas bottoms down leaving me bare-bottom-up over the stack of pillows. Then he put his hands on my bottom, pulling the cheeks apart. This action ALWAYS embarrasses me no matter what he's doing it for, and it's a struggle not to clench against him but I have learned over the years that doing that can NEVER lead to anything good. So I tried to relax even as I felt him start to push something into my bottom and took some more deep breaths trying to relax.

It scared me right away that he wasn't using a lubicant for whatever it was. At first I thought it was a bottom plug, but it seemed smaller and wet in spite of the lack of lubricant. So it didn't cause the stretching sensation that the big plug causes, but I could feel it holding me open. Daddy told me to lie still and I obeyed.

About a minute later I felt a sensation I've never experienced before. Being lit on fire from the inside. Now Daddy has used Bengay on my bottom before which was what I first thought this must be. But it only took a couple more minutes to ascertain that there was NO way this was Bengay. The ginger was much MUCH hotter than that and did not have the mixed hot-cool sensation that Bengay creates. The ginger was pure heat. I couldn't stand it. I was wiggling like a fish on a fishhook within minutes and the more I moved around the worse it got. The heat kept building steadily and then Daddy told me that I had to hold still for fifteen minutes or he would tie me. I hate being tied when I'm in pain. (Love it during pleasure but that's different!)

So I held my breath and bit my lip and cried and tried to keep as still as I could while the ginger burned scortching hot. The thing about ginger that's different than Bengay is that it makes you lose control of your movements a little bit. With Bengay you can take some breaths and remind yourself that fighting it makes it worse and force yourself through the sting. Fighting the ginger makes it worse too, but for some reason you can't stop yourself from clenching around it even as it burns hotter and hotter. You just can't stop yourself. At least, that's how it was for me. Also, Bengay seems to peak out at about five minutes. Ginger has a good twenty in it.

During those fifteen minutes, Daddy kept stroking my bare bottom and talking to me about being an obedient girl and how he hoped I was going to remember this for a long time. I was sweating by the time Daddy said I could relax, and relax didn't mean taking the ginger OUT of me. It just meant that I wasn't going to get spanked any harder if I wiggled around at this point. And I couldn't stop myself from wiggling even though I wanted to stop, mostly because it was embarrassing to have my bottom shuddering before his eyes like that.

That's when Daddy told me to stand up and brought me to the spanking chair. The ginger root was still in my bottom: he had carved it in a shape like a bottom plug so it wouldn't fall out. He pulled me over his lap reminded me again about the rule I had broken and then he gave me a hard spanking first with his hand and then with his slipper. That's something about Irishmen. They all seem to have these AWFUL rubber-soled slippers that sting like nothing else when they connect with your bottom. Daddy doesn't even WEAR the terrible things. Just seems to keep them for me. (His mother gives him a new pair every year for Christmas and it makes me want to cry every year I see that shoebox wrapped up so prettily.) Anyway, he spanked me with that slipper long and hard which was a distraction from the burn of the ginger root but it hurt like crazy and I was screaming and crying and begging him to stop by the end of it.

He pins my hands behind my back when he spanks me. I know he has to but I hate it. One time one of my hands slipped out and he accidentally spanked my finger with the bathbrush as I tried to cover my bottom with my hands. That hurt a LOT!

So when he was done spanking me, he pulled the ginger out for me, which was starting to subside, partly from the time, I think, and partly from the distraction of the new burn across my backside. And he cuddled me and held me for a long time and dried my tears. Then he pulled the flap back up on my pajamas and tucked me into bed. It was just before 9:00 then, very early for bed, but I was so worn out that I didn't mind at all. I think I fell asleep before he even left the room.

And that is the full account of what happened last night and I am going to try very very hard to make sure Daddy doesn't need to punish me for this ever again.


I was punished last night for the fireplace situation. A gas fireplace is a rare thing here and I think people misunderstand the simplicity of it. Switches on and off, encased in fireproof glass. They're common where I came from. So sometimes I feel as though there's an overreaction. Regardless, I know the rule and I have broken it more than once.

And so I was punished. I was in pajamas when he got home from work, as he told me to be. And we ate dinner together without mention of what was to come. Frankly I was hoping he might have forgotten, not that the fuzzy flannel provided any kind of a reminder.

After dinner he sent me to the bedroom. I was spanked soundly over his knee. Punishment spankings are always difficult to endure, so much so that afterward I rarely feel like protesting when he sends me to bed. Tearstained and redbottomed, I was tucked into bed just before 9:00.

I love my Daddy. Even when I am punished, even though I dislike being punished, I love him for his careful ministrations to my needs. I never regret the life I have chosen except for when I am over his knee. Afterward, I remember how worthwhile these pains are and how they soothe the pains in my troubled heart.

November 03, 2005

Leaving the Fireplace On

Leaving the fireplace on when I'm not at home is unsafe. It's like leaving the stove on. Even if I'm only running to the mailbox for a minute, it's not okay to leave it running.

Daddy and I have a special home together. To do anything to jeapordize our home or our safety is very wrong.

I'm sorry Daddy. I know it's not the first time you told me about this, and it was just thoughtless of me to do it again in spite of your warnings.

You asked me to tell you what the consequences of my behaviour should be and I believe I already know. I know repeated warnings are more serious.

I think when you get home from work you will probably spank me and put me to bed early. ((blushes))

I feel embarrassed when you punish me, particularly when you spank me like a little girl. And I feel sad when I do not meet with your expectations. But I am so fortunate that you will take the time and effort to discipline me for transgressions. I love you.

November 02, 2005

Daddy Says

Daddy says it's time to start keeping track of our journey. Daddy and i have been married for seven years now after dating for three. That makes ten years that i've been the luckiest girl alive, and perhaps the most strictly disciplined as well.

Here we are going to keep track of my discipline sessions and also rewards. The rewards are always sweet.
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