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Category Archive: bedtime
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Our Spanking New Code Of Conduct
We girls have all had a chat and decided that we need to have a bit of a change. From now on we will
- do as we are told
-never argue Tops
-never squabble with each other or drive buses
-ask what time we should go bed and then make sure we are tucked up with teeth brushed and ready to sleep at least twenty minutes before that time.
-always carry an implement with us in case our Top wants something extra to spank us with
-always be good and perfect.
PS – We express ourselves now through art.
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Tagged spanked girls
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
I love this picture.
I love my pyjamas and I really, really love my all-in-one. This lady to the right looks very sexy in hers. I don’t look in the least sexy in mine. It is too big for me and is all pink and lilac. But that is OK. An all-in-one is not a sexy bit of kit. It is a snugly, warm bit of kit and it would be a lot warmer if only he would let me keep the flap at the back up all the time rather than flipping it open all the time.
I tell him that just because something is possible does not mean that he should do it.
Anyway correct bedtime preparation is important. It calms me down and makes me sleep better. I hate being sent to bed and can get a little tense.
I like to prepare with a bubble bath, some body lotion, and lots and lots and lots of kisses.
Sometimes that has been known to happen but then he tells me to sleep and I get a bit stubborn again.
His solution to this is all too predictable.
I think we should be able to have sleepovers. I think girls like me (and you if you are such a girl) should be able to have sleepovers so we may chat to each other and chat about stuff when our men are dull and tell us to sleep.
Although a tiny part of me suspects it would end like the ladies to the right.
Tops can be so predictable, can’t they?
I love to be read to. He has a deep, lilting voice that is perfect for telling stories.
I like stories where nothing terrible happens and where everyone is happy. I snurl up under the covers and into his voice.
I fall asleep listening to him. I love the feeling of these moments. I feel utterly spoilt and loved.
I feel like I always dreamed of feeling.
Heidi is a great book, by the way, as is Huckleberry F
inn, but watch Black Beauty. He had to censor it quite heavily.
He would tell you though that I sleep best after I have been spanked. I often have to stick my bum out of the sheets. It is normally red rather than black and blue like this poor girl’s bum, although horrid spankings have been known to occur when I am very out of sorts. Nothing is more relaxing than knowing the man in your life can sort you out without any fuss. Well, there is lots of fuss but it all comes from me.
Goodnight.
I have added another picture in case the one with the bruises gives you nightmares. I am not bruised like that by Himself. But I do sleep in just that way (the above picture) after a properly horrible spanking. My bum is facing Himself of course, in the hope that he will awaken and be wracked by guilt by his actions. Except he only makes my bum very red and sore and that always fades by morning. Sigh.
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Friday Fortune Telling
It is Friday and I thought I would do a little fortune telling by use of pictures.
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin.
I know that tonight I want to stay up and play until very late indeed and some deep voice from somewhere will insist on a stupid and silly bedtime.
My response may be seen below.
I also know that the below graph has been proven. Flexi rulers are not only horribly sore making they are also indestructable – even if you freeze them in a little circle encased in ice.
(It says “hit”, it means “spank” but what can you do?)
This information that I have means that I should be good.
It is not hard to work these things out.
Except it is Friday night and I must play….
Which leads us to the rather sad but inevitable ending of the story.
This is all true but it is not right.
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There was a little girl …
There was a little girl
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead
When she was good
She was very, very good
But when she was bad she was horrid.
This is what goes on in my head when I am very, very bad.
At the start I mean every word that I say. I am resolute, wronged and determined. I have no comprehension at all as to why he will not let me have my way and I am sure that, once he manages to grasp the reality of the situation, he will agree that I am right. He will be sheepish about his initial wrongness. I will be gracious in victory and be such fun that he will understand never to get in my way again.
Suddenly I become aware of a flicker of doubt but I can’t stop. It is like the smallest star in a huge night sky, I cannot steer myself by such a tiny light.
Then I almost split in two- one half continues into the darkness as I become more passionate in argument, more strident, more insistent. The vigour of my argument has to rise in tempo to fight off my fear of doubt, I cannot stop now or all will be lost. I tell him he is mean and I tell him he is horrid. He is the man I love most in the world and I throw these words at him as though they were nothing.
The other half, a tiny voice in my mind calls out to me, “Please stop, please stop.” And to
him it says, “Please stop me, please don’t let me go.” But he can’t hear it, it is a silent voice. Terrified that he will give up and let go, I scrabble around in the dark.
And he doesn’t go. And somehow he does hear me; he hears what I do and what I cannot say. I am so sorry I ask so much of him but he rises to it, he is the very man I dreamt of.
He comes to get me in the dark, he doesn’t let me go.
When he scolds me and spanks me it is horrible. But it sorts out that upper girl, the girl at the top of my mouth,
the one who hushes the scared girl inside. I hope to goodness this is normal. I hope that none of you are reading this and thinking “Blimey, weird women, time to up the medication.”The only meds I am on are multi vitamins by the way.
When he reaches out and says, “Enough” it is a sign and my world stops. He does not use those words, he uses his words and I could not tell you what they are.
And in that instant I become one again. Suddenly I am scared and not of myself anymore, I am not scared of what I will do and where I will take us. Finally, and in a way that I hope you will understand, I am scared of him.
When he looks at me in that way, (I know you know just the look) I stop for the first time. There is no room for manoeuvring; there is nothing I can say to alter what happens. The genie is out of the lamp, stopping him when I have reached this point is like trying to grab smoke.
If I could back myself into a corner with my hand over my bottom I would do. I am aware the he would say I have already backed myself into a corner. But I did not notice myself doing that, so it cannot be so.
But metaphorical or not, no corner can help me. He is home; he has come to get me.
No verbal back flip or quick step will send him away again.
I never think he has to say a word, not a single word. It seems redundant but even this is a bluff. Anyone could grab me and throw me over his lap, it takes a man like him to make me know I have to be there.
If I live for a gazillion years I will never know how I got to be so lucky.
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Bedtimes and An Attempt To Be "Good"
I wrote this post almost a week ago, planning for it to go up today and I want you to know from the start that I managed the whole week except for one blip – not a tiny blip but a blip nevertheless.
I had this post planned for weeks. It was to be a whimsical piece about how wronged I am to have a (sigh because it sticks in my throat) bedtime.
The piece I was to write was a coy piece. I would not spell out my ignoble routine. I would not have said that on work nights I go to bed at 10:30 and at the weekend (which does not include Sunday no matter how much it should) I have to go to bed by midnight.
In this post I would not have explained how going to bed is not all I have to do. I am not allowed to read for twenty minutes (or an hour and a half) or play music but rather I have to have everything off and be curled up in the dark trying to sleep. I am reduced to the status of something teeny, tiny at the end of every day. About four hours before I could have been leading a meeting or telling huge number of people what to do but by 10:30 pm I am normally pouting and being made to lie down and try to find sleep.
I say ‘trying to find sleep’ as I have this terrible habit of fighting sleep no matter how tired I am. I would love to know if anyone else has this terribly destructive and inconvenient habit.
This aversion to sleep is a great shame because my working day starts at about 7:15 and often lasts twelve hours. I work in the evening as well. The number of times I have tried to take off the mascara that I think has ended up ender my eyes only to realise that it is, in fact, just huge dark circles would depress you. I need sleep.
The other reason this aversion is a shame is because when I sneak back up he always, always catches me and then he is most assertive and insistant about the whole thing. Although he always lets me explain he never seems to think that my reason for getting up again is a good one. Some people have no idea about priorities. He then comes up with the most horrible ways to “sort me out.”
And still I fight being sent to bed. This is made worse by the occasional person who laughs at me and mocks me having such a childish routine. (This is someone within this TTWD world, not a vanilla friend). I understand it is funny but it makes me mad sometimes that other girls get to stay up and have fun and I have to go to bed. (I sound about nine years old don’t I?)
Recently I ran into a wall about this. I could not stop fighting it, which was silly because he won every time and it is exhausting fighting such a strong willed man and pointless seeing as I knew I would lose every time. Regardless I fought on.
But last night Himself said something so wonderful that I went quiet and it stuck with me, in my ears and it rang there all night and the next day. I can’t tell you the words he said as they are for him and me only and they were so perfect and so insightful that I want to be keep then a secret. But in essence he said that he does it because he loves me , I should be proud of being loved like that. He explained that not everyone is and I should be happy to be loved by someone who is keen to notice what I am up to all the time.
And do you know what? I am happy to be loved like that and because I have been so difficult I am going to try to not argue when he packs me off to bed.
So I really am going to try, not for ages (let us not make promises we cannot keep) but maybe for a week. I am going to imagine how I would feel if he stopped doing telling me to go to bed.
For one week I will be good about doing as he says without arguing for twenty minutes. It is a start though, isn’t it?
(PS I wrote this on Sunday but I will leave it until Saturday to post it but by then Himself should be most impressed by me. I am somewhat concerned that he will see my irregular behaviour and think that I am ill. I would rather be told off for going to bed late than I would be treated as though I am ill by him. Shudder)
(PPS I also did something awful between when I wrote this and when it was posted. Himself said it was one of the naughtiest things I have ever done. I was trying so hard to be good as well.I am going to a party today – away and overnight- but I will write about it and post it, because that is what I do.)
