I think I don’t want to go. I mean, I’d love to go and it sounds incredible, but do we want to risk what we have? What if we went and had so many disagreements we decided to split up afterward? I haven’t known you for very long, but I don’t want to imagine life without you.
I guess that answers your question whether I’d care about you.
Would you care about me if you couldn’t spank me, Raven?
We could always do a trial run to see.
What if we did go for a vacation together, and you promised not to lift a hand against me the whole time?
Sounds like a fabulous idea. I’m all for it.
Chapter Six
My dear, bratty, and irrepressible girl who hasn’t yet acknowledged her need for submission,
I’ve sent you home, and each week it gets harder. You’re always a bundle of energy, nerves, anticipation, and prickliness. Then, right before it’s time to say goodbye, you come to me with such sweetness. Those moments when we sit on the sofa before you leave have become precious to me.
I think, if I had become a mother, I’d feel serenity and love at putting my child to bed. At least that’s what other mothers say. I don’t get that feeling with you at bedtime. Usually you’ve made such a production of things that I could cheerfully take you out of bed to paddle you once more.
But right before you leave, all of your fierce contradictions melt away and you snuggle next to me. Your chin resting on my shoulder, and your hand clasped in mine. Not speaking or moving or thinking, but lost in our togetherness.
You speak of spanking and punishments as if I wish for them. You even suggest a spanking-free vacation. I’ll return your question to you. How would you handle an entire trip without spankings or punishments, my dear? If this is how you behave when I have to correct you almost constantly, how would you behave once the constraints were lifted?
You must have learned in childhood that in order to earn privileges you must show maturity. When you scowl at my instructions or mutter about submitting paperwork detailing your weekly expenses, how do you think that affects my treatment of you?
Yes, I enjoy some naughtiness. But I’d also enjoy a beautiful submissive woman who took pride in her submission. I see all of your potential and strength, but I also see your determination to sabotage your own success. You’ll trust me on your own terms, but you won’t trust yourself that you can trust me.
Have you been hurt, my dear? Have you had a bad relationship? Or have you felt shamed for your needs? What you want is not wrong or immature, at least not if you accept it. It’s fighting against your deepest needs that makes you behave like a spoiled child.
I could take joy in spanking you every day. I love the cute little noises you make, the intake of your breath, and the way you shiver in anticipation. And afterward, when you’ve relaxed into blissful dreaminess, it’s as if you’ve entered a heavenly plane. I admit I sometimes wish I could enter sub space the way you do. Maybe you experience it all the more because you fight it so much. There is domme space, of course, but I can’t let myself get too drawn in. I have to watch you, wait for your signals, and ensure we never go too far.
We made our original agreement for one overnight per week. It’s been a careful, slow beginning, and it was right to proceed with caution. Now, though, I think we’ve stalled. Just when you start to let go, the twenty-four hours are up and you return home. In your own house, you answer to no one and enjoy complete autonomy. By the time you come back to me the following Friday, you’ve become lost in the quotidian demands of authorship and unconsciously scorn the submission you need.
I’ve watched you over these past weeks, and I’ve never seen you as happy as when you’ve surrendered all of your pride, stubbornness, and false ideals of adult independence.
I’m not trying to take anything away from you. I’m trying to give back to you what you’ve rejected. Don’t you understand?
Maybe you can’t understand, newbie that you are. Maybe you feel guilty at having needs many wouldn’t understand. You might think of our relationship as codependent, or unhealthy, or marred by secret perversions you wouldn’t want your family to find out about.
I can understand that last one. My mother, may she rest in peace, believed in order and decorum. She didn’t quite know what to do with a gangly would-be fashion designer, and she certainly couldn’t have handled my sexuality…let alone a kinky one.
I understand hiding parts of yourself from the world, but at what cost? After my parents and husband died, I went into a chrysalis for almost ten years. I lost everything I held dear, and I emerged ready to claim the life I’d almost given up. I could have been a doctor’s wife, a society woman, and the continuation of my parents’ legacy. Instead, I’m the pitiable widow who nevertheless does her duty in her family’s memory.
When one loses her entire world at such a young age, she learns what is most important. I could never go back to denying my true self. I am a dominant, kinky woman who loves women.
What are you, my dear Alena?
Are you brave enough to own all of the parts of your identity?
Or will you fight against me every single Friday until the end of time?
Chapter Seven
Raven was unusually solemn today. After the usual weekly report and review of my money issues (a brief scolding for buying the adorable Margaret Bloom wooden duck, even though it was a limited edition), she made me sit in her study while she talked at great length.
Things about what I want from life, my goals, and how I’m either getting closer or drifting further away.
She sounded far more like a life coach than a mistress.
A spanky life coach, maybe. Hehe.
She didn’t lecture about the usual bedtime complaints, although she did make a vague threat about recordkeeping. I mostly got to bed on time this past week, although the last minute cover art paperwork truly wasn’t my fault. I suppose she’s right that I should have planned ahead so things like that wouldn’t alter my schedule so much, but on the whole she was understanding.
Well, I thought she was until she sent me upstairs to change into the detested dress and write. I found her letter from last week, to my surprise. I wonder why she says these things in the notebook but not directly to me.
I guess she could ask me the same question.
I never know whether I should write these diary entries directly to her, like Raven will you do this? Or if it’s really supposed to be a diary and she’s eavesdropping. She writes to me as if she’s standing right here, and I’m listening.
I’ve read her letter a few times now, and I’m honestly not sure what to say in reply. She never talks about herself when we’re face to face. Do I say I’m sorry about her parents and husband? It seems callous not to. But…it’s not as if she’s invited me to ask her more questions about it. She doesn’t talk about herself a lot. It’s almost as if she doesn’t want me to ask. Or is she telling me these things to make me see her point?
If I’m absolutely honest, I’ll admit that right now I can only wonder just how mad she’s going to be when she finally comes upstairs.
The worst part about our arrangement is the waiting. I’d almost rather she grab the paddle and whack right away, instead of making me sit on pins and needles while wondering how bad it’ll get. She’s given an explanation about not spanking in anger, blah blah, but I think I’d rather have angry Raven than disappointed Raven. When she’s in the passion of the moment, it’s scary but over fast. When she’s quiet, like today, and tells me to write at my desk until she calls for me, well…I don’t know. I want to beg for mercy, and I despise myself for doing so.
Please let her focus on all the days I tried to get to bed on time, and how I made an extra effort to find an outfit she’d like for today. I don’t care much about clothes, but she does. I try to find things she’ll like, even if she does have me change almost the second I arrive. I hate the dainty clothes she picks out for me (oops, sorry Raven), but she likes them so
much. The other day I saw a cute pink skirt with a white top, and I thought it was the style she likes for me. It was fun to see her eyes light up when I came into her house today. It’s such a small thing. I’ve never cared how people think about my clothes, but it’s a tiny thing to please her.
I like to please her. Maybe that makes me weak and childish and everything, but I can’t help it.
I also got quite a long, serious talk about making this weekend a positive one. She wants me to think about this trip some more. She even said taking my writing with me is a great idea. She says that she can easily work her discipline around my schedule, and I would most likely work twice as fast when given the proper motivation.
I’m not in any hurry to find out what she means by motivation!
Raven, when you read this, here are a few questions for you.
If you’re always disappointed in me, why do you still care what I do? I mean, I’m never going to do everything right. What’s the point?
What if I say I can’t take the time off and don’t want to go on the trip? I’m not saying I won’t, but you said I don’t get a safeword. Do I have a choice? Or are you telling me I have to go?
Do you want to go? Do you want me to want it, too?
It’s absurd. If you’d told me a year ago that I could fly to Florida (uh, are you planning to fly? It’s a bit far to drive…) with a gorgeous, sexy woman, I’d be thrilled. Now I’m…I don’t know. But not thrilled.
I like things the way they are. I like our routine.
Why risk changing it?
Oh, no. There’s your call.
Please, Raven. I swear I’ll be good and do everything you ask, if only you won’t use Blackie.
Cross my heart.
Chapter Eight
Dear impossible girl who would jump off a cliff if I told you not to,
You were warned quite clearly. I told you to try going to bed one minute late and you would see what happened.
Now, as you sniffle into your bowl of plain oatmeal instead of the lovely chicken marsala dinner Susan prepared, you are seeing the result.
A good, sound spanking with Blackie.
Sitting in the corner with a bowl of oatmeal while I watch and write.
The promise of a second spanking before bedtime, which will come quite early.
And, my dear, the removal of false choices.
You will make up a schedule for all of the work you need to complete in the next two weeks, noting anything that can’t be done from your computer.
Yes, we agreed that you would devote one day per week here in exchange for the stipend. But since your continued misbehavior results in backsliding, the one day never adds up to meaningful time. Instead of continuing our lessons, I have to re-teach the same lesson over and over again.
I’ve been patient, reasonable, and understanding.
I’ve been firm, clear about expectations, and consistent in following through with consequences.
And you still defy me!
Alena, listen to me. I care about you a great deal, but we either go on this trip or I will lose my patience with you. You worry whether too much time together will result in conflict, but the opposite has happened. You are too new to the lifestyle, too headstrong, and too ambivalent to slide seamlessly between ordinary life and life with me.
Unless you can come up with reasons far more compelling than your dentist appointment or Amazing online book delivery, we are going to Florida. I’ve spoken with Lorelei and arranged the details. She had quite a bit to say about you, young lady. I assure you that your days of playing us off each other are long gone.
You will prepare yourself for the trip, and for two weeks you will not have so much as a glass of water unless I say so. If you choose to earn punishments for yourself fourteen days in a row, so be it.
If you are sufficiently stubborn that the two weeks fail to teach you obedience, we will extend the trip.
Playtime’s over, Alena.
We’re doing things my way now.
Chapter Nine
Um.
Yes, ma’am.
No, ma’am.
I don’t have anything else to say, ma’am.
I’m really incredibly sorry and won’t cause trouble for you ever again.
For as long as I live.
Thank you for giving me a trip to Florida.
I don’t think any longer than two weeks will be necessary, ma’am.
I mean, not that it will be my decision.
I understand perfectly, ma’am. Bedtime is at nine o’clock on the dot and not one second later.
I don’t know what else to write. You said I won’t be punished for what I write in here, but I can’t think of anything to say that won’t get me into trouble.
Chapter Ten
Dear sweet, frustrating, endearing, and bratty girl of mine,
Don’t be scared. At least, don’t be scared of the wrong things. You said yourself that you respond better when I allow my annoyance to show. Now you understand why I don’t, or at least not often. Think of how stunned you were when I, to quote you, grabbed Blackie and whacked you.
You’ve been spanked far harder and longer without it affecting you this much, but this time the shock silenced you. Immediately. Now you’re tiptoeing around as if I’m going to yell at you, instead of reflecting on what brought us to this point.
Whether I’ve spoiled you, yet again, or whether you’re the headstrong bratty sub who needs to learn every lesson the hard way, you need much more consistent and thorough discipline than I can provide once a week.
Think of this trip as an investment. Seed money. If you trust me and follow my lead, we’ll return at a far better place in our relationship. I’m perfectly willing to have a sub who gets into a bit of mischief now and then, but this constant power struggle does neither of us any good.
I’m not giving up on you, my girl. Don’t give up on yourself.
Think of how shocked you felt last night, and how timid you are this morning. Stop putting the weight of all decisions onto my shoulders. I’m your domme, not a god. Unless you commit to this relationship and work with me, you’re going to exhaust yourself and exasperate me.
More than you already have, I mean!
Perhaps the error is partly mine in wanting you to arrive at submission instead of finding your way naturally. Maybe I should let you go at your own pace, but I fear we will both be in our graves before that happens! You do have a talent for blocking your own progress.
My expectations for you, my girl, are these:
Respect. Respect me, yourself, our relationship, and your capabilities. Your silliness demeans us both. Submission is only childish if you make it so.
Commitment. As we’ve said so often, this is your paid job. You wouldn’t go to a company and flout their policies, would you? You knew what you were getting when you signed on with me. Do the job or walk away. There’s no in between.
Honesty. None of this waffling, self-destructive nonsense. You think you might agree that it possibly could be good if you get disciplined, but you’ll never admit it outright. You think it makes you more adult or sophisticated or less dependent if you act like a spoiled child instead of admitting that you want and need discipline.
Fulfillment. Notice that I don’t say happiness. You think happiness is doing whatever you want. You’re right, if you mean doing what’s good for you and what you really want. In the end, do you really want to fritter away your life on late-night online auctions or missed goals? Or do you want to achieve your dreams?
How do you think you can motivate children to write if you can’t buckle down and apply yourself? You think happiness comes from hedonistic, in-the-moment pleasure, but you miss the joy of accomplishing your heart’s desire. You have so much potential, Alena. Stop wasting it.
You will find a phone in a case next to this journal. I’ve put you on a family plan and programmed several applications for use on our trip.
You will have the ringer on and th
e phone with you at all times. There is a tracking application. If you ever try to disable it, our relationship will be over. Don’t expect spanking and forgiveness. This is non-negotiable. In your diary time today, you will write your understanding and agreement of this condition as well as all of the others.
There are also various applications that will be programmed with your daily schedule reminders and require you to note if you have completed assigned tasks.
This phone does not replace your diary. Notes in the phone are for simple communication and record keeping. It is an additional discipline, not a replacement.
As writing the essay before was so effective, you will begin your morning by writing another one. In it, you will detail your understanding of all these expectations and how you intend to fulfill them.
Two thousand words is a nice, round number, isn’t it?
Once you have completed your essay and reported to me for your spanking, Peter will drive you home to pack. You will return promptly and prepare for our flight tomorrow.
I suggest you take these instructions seriously.
Chapter Eleven
Another essay! Another two thousand words!
And a lovely new phone!
I’m…what do the British call it? Gobsmacked.
Just…wow. Wow.
On top of everything else, too. An all-expense paid vacation, plus everything else you still give me for the monthly stipend.
I honestly don’t know what to say, Raven. You are the most generous person I’ve ever met. Maybe this type of money isn’t much to you, but I’m speechless.
You give all of this to me while telling me I’ve failed you, and you’re really disappointed in me.
I don’t get it.
There, I said it. I don’t get you. I don’t understand how you can be this lavish to me. What do you get out of it? I thought it was fun for you to spank and discipline, but it doesn’t sound like it’s been that way for you. So why would you do it? Why would you put up with me?
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