Discipline, 140 Characters at a Time

Dear Readers, 
I've been woefully neglectful of the bloggie wog of late. I've taken to telling my little stories to my Twitter friends...it's rather like we all gather around the virtual campfire, in that there's a live audience and an ongoing conversation. 
However, I love my little blog and shall be a better girl about maintaining it. 
And, to show that I mean it, here's a little story from last night's twitter. 
xoxoxo
Libby

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

Now, this falls squarely in the category of may or may not have happened.

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

He'd called me up to tell me he was downstairs. now, my flat is in a bit of fortress of solitude, and, given how he'd asked me to be dressed

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

I couldn't exactly trot downstairs to open the door, you know? So, we agreed that I'd drop the key down to him, from my bedroom window

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

Then I rushed to the corner, to stand as I'd been told. It seemed like forever before I heard the key in the lock

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

I'd been advised not to acknowledge that I heard him walk in the door. I was to wait until he spoke to me. I had to trust that it was him.

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

We'd talked about the things I was supposed to have done.

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

i.e. clean flat. like, super clean.

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

so I heard him moving about the flat, and again, it seemed like forever, but I knew better than to look. Even though that was very difficult

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

Hell's bells, I thought. Did I really forget to vacuum? Just then I heard his voice for the 1st time since he'd walked in the door. "Libby?"

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

And, all vampire like, he's close to me. "Honey, we need to talk about the state of your flat." I feel his hands on my hips. "Yes, Sir."

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

He slaps my ass hard, twice, and pulls my knickers down to my knees. I hear him sit down at my desk, and swivel round toward me

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

 "Libby, Sweetie, we have some problems, don't we?" Immediately I'm running every broken rule through my mind!

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

"yes, Sir, I reckon we do have a few problems, Sir." <<<<<--------note obsessive use of respectful language

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

"And what are they, Pet, what are our problems?" Well, hell. I guess I might as well claim them, right?

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

"I didn't vacuum, Sir. And I didn't do the swiffer thing."

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

"Turn around and face me, Libby." he says, and I'm not sure what to do exactly, given that my knickers are down around my ankles...

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

He seems to sense my hesitation, "Libby, did you not hear me, Sweetie?"

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

So I just tried to put my embarrassment out of my head and I turned around, and *cringe* stumbled a bit because of, you know, the knickers

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

And I see him for the first time tonight...he's sitting in my desk chair, with his arms folded across his chest, smiling at me crookedly

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

And there I am, knickers now around my ankles, suddenly aware that I'm shaking. I want to move toward him, but he's not asked me too.

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

"How's yoga going, Libby Baby?" And now it's taking all my strength not to beg to sit in his lap while I confess to him. "It's going well"

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

"Try again, Baby. Tell me what's happening." then I can't stop talking. "I'm so sorry, Sir, there are a lot of things I need to tell you!"

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

And so I spill everything, standing there with my panties around my ankles. When I've missed bedtime or slept too late or missed yoga...

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

And by then I have tears in my eyes, and I'm searching his face for how he's reacting to what I'm saying. Is he smiling? ugg! I can't tell.

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

"Come here, LIbby" he says, and at the crook of his finger I'm at his knee. Magnet and Iron.

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

Somehow I was graceful, gliding across the floor at his bidding, with my knickers around my knees.

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

He snaps his fingers. "On your knees, Sweetie." Where is my will? Absent, my friends. I want nothing more than to be on my knees before him.

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

For the next 10 minutes or so, we go through my rules, and his expectations of me, as I'm on my knees, looking up at his face

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

By this time I'm SICK to be over his knees, you know? I feel like there's no way he can't know how bad I want him to spank me!

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

Now I know he's teasing me. "Alright, Sweetie, over my lap." Friends, I was not cool.

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

My knickers were already down, but of course he didn't start spanking me straight away. It seemed like I waited forever!

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

He spent quite a lot of time (at least it seemed like he did!) with his hand on my bum, lecturing me and frightening the living daylights

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

...out of me. And then my spanking began. Oh, Sugar!

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

Sometimes the best thing about a spanking is being driven, constitutionally driven, to try to get away, even though I want more, you know?

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

And when at last, he was done spanking me, I felt him slide my panties off, over my stockinged feet

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

"Come here, Baby, sit in my lap...." and I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him, as if my very life depended upon it,

SpankingLib Libby the Libster

and I thanked him, as I always do, for reminding me to be a good girl.

Barely Pink on Domestic Discipline

 Once again, Ladies and Gents...

Pink nails it.

Check out her blog entry called Mistress of My Bedtime

How is it that she so consistently articulates ttwd so beautifully?  Thank you, Pink. You are an inspiration. 

xoxox

Libby

On Seeking a Strong Foundation

I'm something of a late bloomer, I've come to understand.  As an artist and an academic, I've studied lots of different things, worked in diverse fields, moved around a lot, and sort of floated.  

Self-discipline has always seemed like something of an elusive goal...I have two masters degrees, so obviously I have some self-discipline. But that was externally directed self-discipline. Professors and universities set dates and goals and schedules and standards for me, and I submitted myself to them. I knew it was for my own good. I operate very well under that model.

I'm coming to see that underlying my (dis) ability to discipline myself is a sort of domestic morass (no pun intended. ok, a little intended.). Stacks of laundry so large I couldn't even bring myself to deal with with them. A sink full of dirty dishes was a constant. 


And the thing was, I felt bad about it all the time. For years, "have more self-discipline" was my top New Year's Resolutions. But how could I get the discipline to learn to impose self-discipline? 

It was a conundrum. 


I felt as if, in trying to launch my career as a writer, I was trying to build a strong house on a foundation that was very shaky, at best, and quicksand, at worse. 

Working with Sir is helping me to shore up that foundation. As I've mentioned before, he does not micromanage me. However there are certain tasks that I've committed to doing, and he makes sure I do them. There's no more, "well, I really should do yoga, but I'm enjoying playing solitaire/reading spanking blogs/ chattering with friends/being lazy so much that I guess I won't do it, but instead I'll spend hours feeling guilty about it." 

Now, I know I'm to have done yoga by 5 everyday, and preferably in the morning. So I do it. I'm to have the dishes washed and put away, and so I do that, too.

And I'm so much happier.  And my career is already benefiting from Sir's discipline. Interestingly, though we discuss my career, that's not the area of my life in which he is training me. Our work is about strengthening my foundation, so to speak.  He's giving me the tools and the training. And I'm ready for the construction. 


xoxox

Libby

My Discipline Journal: Entry 1

Tonight I’m writing my first discipline journal entry, because Sir has mentioned it before, and because I think it will make him happy.

But more than that, I’m moved to write it because I feel so much gratitude to Sir for the things he’s already helped me accomplish. He’s making subtle changes in my mind, rewiring my brain, almost, with his loving discipline. 

When I start to just put a dish in the sink and let it sit there indefinitely, I think of him, and of how he would ask me if that’s the right choice to make. Then I rinse the dish and put it in the dishwasher and feel proud of myself and imagine Sir patting me on the bottom and kissing my cheek. 

I love putting check marks by the items on my list. Now, instead of a chore, each item seems almost like a reward within itself, because I know it’s for my own well-being and because I know I’ll get to tell him about it and get his praise. 

 Sir and I agreed two days ago that I would have my considerable laundry done by 7pm tonight. I’m very close to having it done, and I’m overjoyed with myself about that. I know that it sounds like such a small thing for a relatively accomplished woman like myself, but my laundry has long been my albatross. I’ve always been really bad about keeping it done, and about keeping my apartment clean in general. Sir knows that this is one of my core discipline problems, and is so generously helping me overcome it. 

But, it won’t be done by 7.

Now, I know that I underestimated how much time it would take. Sir asked me to be certain of the date and time, and I said that I was. I also know that I’ve had a lot of good work news in the last two days that has ended up occupying a lot of my time. Finally, some of the clothes require that I get those dry cleaning sheet dealies at the store, and I’m a bit pressed for time and money right now.

So, I thought, I’ll ask for an extension. Sir will understand. He cares about me and knows that these issues came up unexpectedly.

But then I thought, no. Sir cares about me.

My discipline is not about him, it’s about me. I should’ve planned ahead better and used my time more wisely.

I will finish all the laundry, even the dry cleaning, by Friday at 7pm.

Nonetheless, I didn’t finish it when I was supposed to.

So instead of asking Sir to give me an extension, 

I’m going to ask Sir to give me cornertime.

I love following his instructions obediently, thinking about what he tells me to think about, feeling myself become centered and calm under his command.

I just hope I can get this webcam situation straightened out soon so that Sir can watch me serve him.

The Two Aprons

(...continued)

Once I was standing I felt awkward, and stepped to the side of the pillow where I'd been sitting. Hesitating, I bent forward, and put my hands on my knees.

"Alright, then, Love, what am I going to do, spank your head? Silly girl. Turn round. Bottom toward me, of course." I felt myself blushing from the roots of my hair to my toenails. "Did I say knees? I thought I said ankles."

As I dropped forward I became acutely aware of how exposed my bottom felt, even when covered with panties. As if reading my mind, he said, "now let's have those knickers down, Libby." I didn't move, and started to say, "but Sir..." when he interrupted, firmly.

"Libertine. There shall be no punishment today. But I need to know that you can follow directions."

It was as if his words pulled my body into action. I pulled my panties down over my hips and started to step out of them, but he stopped me. "No, leave them there." I could see him through my legs. He was regarding me carefully. Involuntarily, my back subtly arched and my bottom seemed to stretch toward him like a sunflower.  He smiled.

"Good girl. Now. panties up. Go fetch my case. I have something else for you. 

I did as I was told. He pulled a small pile of fabric from his case and held it out to me.

"Sit back down, Libby, and take these. Now tell me what they are."

"They're aprons, Sir."

"Yes, and are they identical?"

"No, Sir, far from it. One is..." it was dowdy, navy and canvas "...more plain than the other."  The other one was lovely, looked almost couture with its bouncy skirt and crisp pink, floral printed fabric.

"Have you a preference?"

"Yes, Sir..." was this a trick?  "I prefer the pink one."

"Very well. That shall be the apron you'll wear for our housekeeping inspections.  You are to be wearing clean, pressed clothes, something decent, clean knickers, and your inspection apron. The other apron is to be worn while you're actually doing your chores. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good.  Now, when you greet me, dressed as you've been told, you're to hand me a check list prepared from the items in your Notebook, along with the Notebook itself, and a pen. At that point you're to wait for instructions. Generally, like today, I'll simply instruct you to remove your pants or skirt and have a seat on the pillow, waiting. But those instructions are at my discretion. If things look especially bad at first glance, I may very well have you standing naked in the corner as you wait for me to finish inspection. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And so, if I were to come in here and find things as messy as I did today, what might happen?"

"You might have me standing naked in the corner."

"But tell me precisely, if I were to say, Libby, this is isn't good. Take off your clothes and go to the corner, what would you do?"

"I would do it, I would take of my clothes and..." he raised his eyebrows slightly, and I understood. "I would fold them neatly and put them on the coffee table. Then I would go to the corner."

"Lovely. But first you'd put your lovely apron back on, wouldn't you? Because you're always to be wearing it during housekeeping inspection. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Now, if you were to be in corner time, and I finished inspection and found, say, 32 infractions in this one room, what would happen?"

"I might get a bare bottomed spanking, while grabbing my ankles."

"Not only might you, you most certainly would. I might also point out some specific infractions that you must remedy immediately, if they're inexcusable.  For instance, if I found the bookcases to be especially dusty, I might have you take care of that before I leave. How would you take care of that, Libby?"

"I would immediately get the feather duster and dust them..."

"In your pink apron?"

"No, Sir. I would change to the blue apron, because I don't want to get the pink one dirty."

"Very good, Libby! Now see, if you thought things through like this on your own, you wouldn't need me to help you with discipline, now would you?" 

Oh, but I would, I thought....

My Red Notebook Pt II

"So, Libby, what do you think I should do with you?" His eyes regarded me kindly. "Not today of course, because, remarkably," he shook his head here, "you didn't know better. But say it's the next inspection. Say you had 32 housekeeping infractions in this one room, God knows how many in the other rooms, but let's just stick with this one room. 32 infractions. What do you believe should be your punishment for that?"

I felt myself blush.  "Well," my mouth suddenly dry, "I should be spanked, Sir."

"Well, you're darn right you should be spanked. But how, Girl?"

I started to shake my head, pretending not to understand what he was talking about.

Nervously, I giggled, "over your knee. In jeans." He laughed.

"Is that what you think? You think you should be wearing more clothes than you're wearing now? Does that seem right? That I'd say, Libby, you did a piss poor job of keeping the house clean. Now go put on more clothes for your spanking?"

"No, Sir." Again, with the nervous giggle. I was even trying my own patience.

"Libby. Look at me. Why am I here?"

Without a thought I answered, "Because you want to help me."

"Help you what?"

"Be a more responsible housekeeper. Keep a cleaner house."

"Yes, but why do you want that?"

I was a bit flummoxed.

"Because...it pleases you when my apartment is clean?"

"No, Lib, I don't give a damn if your apartment's clean, Girl.  I wouldn't even be here unless...why AM I here, Lib?"

"Because I asked you to be here, Sir."

"Why?"

"Because I need discipline."

"Ah, yes. There you go. You do need discipline, don't you Libby?" I nodded, breathless at what he had lead me into. "And why do you need discipline?"

"Because I'll never reach my full potential without discipline."

"Very well said! That's lovely, Libby.  Now that we both know why I'm really here, let's re-address punishment. For 32 infractions in one room, Libby, what might we do?"

"A spanking in panties, standing...32 handspanks."

"Not quite, but better. Here's what I propose. In this hypothetical situation, you will  have certainly earned a bare bottom spanking." I nodded. "You will be standing, bending forward, with your hands clasping your ankles. Show me."

Instantly now I sprang up. He had taken away my fig leaf, my pretense of confusion. He was here because I had asked him to help me. 

Self Improvement Contract II (My Red Notebook)

(...continued)

So I sat there, on the floor pillows, feeling rather absurd in my panties. But I continued to write diligently in the notebook he'd given me. My Red Notebook.

He walked around my living room, shaking his head at the clutter, ticking off so many things, so quickly, and in his brogue, that sometimes I had to ask him to please repeat what he'd just said. He obliged and never seemed impatient. He wanted me to understand, clearly, what was expected of me.

Now, my apartment is rather small, so I'm embarrassed to say that just within the living room there were 32 housekeeping infractions (of course they weren't infractions yet, but would be, next time, because I will have known better). But he was very thorough - baseboards scrubbed, windows cleaned, blinds dusted, bookcases dusted, etc.

"Now, Libby," he said, and sat down in my wing chair - after having to pick up my coat, "go hang this up, there's a good girl, then bring your pillow and your Notebook over here so we can have a little chat before I continue with the inspection."

When I was seated on the floor by his knee he asked me to read what I'd written, so that it was clear that I understood. When I finished reading, he began to speak in a deep, patient tone.

"How many infractions did you have in just this one room, Girl?"

I counted to make sure. "32, Sir."

"32 what, Love? You had 32 what?"

"I had 32 housekeeping infractions in this one room, Sir."

"And doesn't that seem like quite a lot for such a small room? For one small girl?"

"Yes, Sir."

It was incredibly embarrassing, sitting there at his knee, in panties, feeling his eyes consider me.

Self Improvement Contract

I've been preparing a contract of sorts, a list of expectations, of things that I know that I should naturally do as a responsible adult.

Arriving at the realization that there is someone out there who can and will help be the best person I can be is so exciting...

I find myself weighing the difference between a good girl spanking and a bad girl spanking - if I don't have clean panties every day, I think, what should that earn me? It seems a kind of trifling offense, but it's one of my especial issues - having laundry done and in general having everything tidy. 

I have fantasies of a mysterious mentor showing up to do a white glove inspection. Though I've been warned ahead of time of his arrival, I don't quite know what to expect.  I've never really been properly trained in how to clean a home...in my fantasy it unfolds this way:

He arrives, and quickly I can see his dismay. He doesn't even bother to put on his white gloves, as it seems obvious to him that my housekeeping is sadly lacking.

"Libby," he begins, in his Scottish brogue that makes me go all furry inside, "are we really going to do this?"

"Yes, Sir," I giggle, "I'm sorry, Sir, I do want to do this."

"Then why are you giggling, Girl?" His disappointment makes my giggling stop.

"I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. For a moment I wonder if he's going to leave.

"Please, then, Libby, you must cooperate." I bow my head at his chastisement.

"All right then, let's begin. You're wearing nice clean panties, I'm sure?"

"Absolutely." This was something upon which we'd been absolutely clear I was to do.

"Good. Off with your jeans, then, Girl." He said the words offhandedly, and I wasn't sure that I'd heard him right. He was opening the brown leather satchel that he brought, the one I'd seen him carry on campus.

"Problem?" He asks me, eyebrows raised.

"No, Sir." Quickly I unbutton and unzip my jeans. I cannot wait to get them off, truly, and challenge myself to have them fully off and have myself posed demurely by the time he turns around to see me. I don't succeed.  I'm hopping a little, struggling to free my left foot of my Levi's as he turns around. He tries to hide his bemusement, and I blush. He's a gentleman.

Finally I'm free of my jeans, and, trying to cover for my little humiliation, say proudly, "yes, Sir," and stand coolly, arms behind my back, in my little black briefs.

He barely affords me a glance.

"Good girl," he says, but it's offhanded. Not the meaningful Good Girl that I crave.

He hands me a red spiral notebook, the kind one buys for .39, and a pen. I peek within the cover. In big black letters, he has written "Libby's housekeeping book". When I feel that he's watching me, I quickly close the book.

"It's alright, Libby, you may look at it, though you were correct to think that you should ask first. What a little brat you are to look without asking!" I blush. He seems more amused than angry. "You should have asked, shouldn't you have?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir." I find myself shifting involuntarily from one foot to the other.

"It's alright. We're just starting. Have a seat, Libby," he gestures toward the stacked pillows on my floor. Just then, he notices my jeans in a heap on the floor, and looks at me with a question in his eyes. "You just leave your clothes on the floor like that?" I feel myself blush deeply.

"No Sir. I'm sorry, Sir." I scramble to pluck them from the floor and fold them.  Even more nervous, now, I hold the jeans across my lap.

"Put them down on the floor beside you, Girl, and open your book. That's yours. Since it's what you need, I'm going to tell you what a man expects in a clean home. You're to take notes in that book I brought you. You must keep it and study it and always be ready to present it to me in good shape, with notes and reports and questions, if you have them. Are you going to be able to do that, Libby?"

"Yes, Sir," my hands are shaking as I take the cap from the pen and get ready to write.

"You make keep the book as you see fit, Love, but you need to always be able to explain my expectations, and to demonstrate that you've fulfilled them. I mean, for God's Sake, Libby, you're a grown woman. You should at least be aware of HOW to keep a home, do you understand?"