Happily Submit

Forgive and forget. Let go. Don't dwell. Don't recite all my wrongdoings till the cows come home. Don't blame all of our failures on me. Don't yell at me. Control yourself first. Own your mistakes. 

Lead. Take responsibility. Make me feel safe and secure. Protect me. Watch me. Don't let me go by myself after dark. Don't encourage harmful habits. 

Laugh with me. Read with me. Watch me dance. Leave silly notes for me. Cook with me. Share a meal not food. 

Don't put tomatoes in the fridge. Don't try to sneak a pair of black socks into the white laundry. Change that lightbulb without a gentle weekly reminder. 

Tell me, I got you. Call me a good girl. Take care of me like no one else before. 

Braid my hair. Pull me onto your lap. Hold me tight. Fall asleep with me. Kiss my forehead in the morning. Check on me. Don't let me drop. 

Look me in the eyes. Hold my chin to look into yours. Touch me for no reason. Pin me. 

Buy me an almond croissant once in a while but not too often. Make me presents that money cannot buy. 

Listen to me. Support me. Inspire me. Lift me up. Don't refer to anything I'm into as crap or bullshit. Believe in me. Cheer me up. Root for my success. Be proud of me. Cherish me. 

Accept me for who I am. 

Then, I will HAPPILY SUBMIT. 

PS Yes, it's so much easier to pour my heart out to complete strangers in hope that maybe, just maybe, my words, this instruction manual, will make a difference in someone else's life. 

PPS That’s Ralph Marvell and Samantha Woodley on the picture, and the still is from a Shadow Lane video (thank you, Erica, for identifying). A famous photo, popular in the community, mercilessly cropped by yours truly (unintentional pun) in order not to get nuked over one picture. No, I will not send you the original. What, you haven't seen enough red bottoms already?

Hundred - To M and B

Hundred years passed today

But the story lives forever

Only words are gonna stay

Scattered in the world wide ether

"Hundred pounds soaking wet"

Winning smile that lit the room

Feisty, strong, and smart, you bet

Turning Dom into a groom

Hundred hours no need to wait

When you know, they say, you know

Call it love or call it fate

One reins in and one to bow

Hundred bear hugs were given

Scratch that, thousands, that is

Surely up the wall had driven

Him that spunky sass and tease

Hundred blows on bare bottom

How many is too much? 

Sting not meant to be forgotten

Followed by gentle touch

Hundred parties lay unravelled 

Bottoms sore and also hands

Hundred miles of road less travelled

Peanuts boiled are yikes, no thanks

Hundreds seeds of pomegranate 

Six - thirteen to be exact

May your life will be abundant

All these hundred years back

Little facts:

- The poem is set in the year of 2123

- The author is a helpless romantic and believes that love stories live forever

- "Hundred pounds soaking wet" is a direct quote from Erica's post

- I cannot write Dom with lower-case. Sorry if it offends anyone's sense of grammar.

- It's believed that there are 613 seeds in pomegranate, therefore making it a symbol of abundance

- Most important: the poem is solely based on a few teeny tiny facts from Erica's post, the rest is all figments of my own depraved imagination.

Meddling again, in the hope that two wrongs will make it right. When I wrote the first poem, To M and Erica, something irked me endlessly, and I apologized for meddling (thank you, Erica, for the kind words). It took me a while to realize what it was:

It was supposed to be all about M and B, but the first poem came out about M and Erica, which was wrong. I thought I didn't know anything about B, but then again, what do I know about M, really? So, here I am, apologizing my heart out in another poem, because that's what I do... in a hope that one day it would bring a smile on their faces.

To M and B

Dreams of summer

Why the geese? Because they are BACK!!! You know what it means? That the spring is really really here, despite all the snow, there is no turning back. So, to all the good things to come: shorts, sundresses, flip-flops (on my feet or not, see the footnote), lavender fields, the smell of fresh strawberries, the smell of fresh cut grass, what else? tan lines!! Sore dreams of summer...

Footnote on flip-flops, sandals, and other flat footwear: 

Hermione recently posted about slippering here. And while I recalled reading the Marrakesh story (here) but there was something else I couldn't pinpoint that day. Only today it hit me, it was the beautiful spanking story I un-earthed one day on Erica's site, as she called it, My favourite spanking story. For you reading pleasure, read it here

To M and Erica

I know it's not them on the picture. Read the damn post, will you?

Trusting her body and soul

Body heals, soul, not so much

Life's taking unfair toll

Out of reach, not out of touch

Fond memories of Shadow Lane

Forever cast into living on

Silly crazy, or safe and sane

Humming into oblivion

Poking without fear

First got her attention with scorn

Please do not disappear

The rarest of unicorns

Pain's easy, words make me weep

Of firm hand and of gentle heart

Yielded masterfully belt or whip

May your hand will never gets smart

Taking care of the one you love

Loyal achingly yang to her yin

I can't help, only cry or laugh

With a hope that good karma wins

I'm honestly weeping as I'm writing this post... Sorry for butchering otherwise beautiful picture, will give you the link to the original in a sec. 

You know when it comes to pictures, my blog is ridiculously pg rated, yeah, flowers, macarons, and silly t-shirts. Not so much with words, just in the previous post, was discussing with Kathryn the merits of saying cock versus dick and Izzie getting spanked for using the latter. You can weigh in in the comments, whichever of two you prefer. 

It all started with this picture. For the original picture please go to Nora's blog: https://ourmarriageanddomesticdiscipline.wordpress.com/2023/01/05/his-discipline-nsfw-18-spanking-fiction/

I loved the story and the picture so much that I mentioned it to Erica, she said it’s a famous photo. Read original Erica's post here:

https://ericalscott.wordpress.com/2023/02/02/some-words-about-pictures/

Hi Erica, as I was reading your post, i was thinking of one particular picture with plenty of hands, both hands, rolled up sleeves of the white dress shirt (sic!), and most of all, plenty of tenderness. This picture pushed all the right and wrong buttons for me. I’m usually all about the words, but this picture just did it for me.

Sore — you have good taste; that is a very popular photo. It’s a small world; I know both of them. That’s Ralph Marvell and Samantha Woodley, and the still is from a Shadow Lane video. I believe it was called Older Men with Younger Wives, or something along that line.

And then I wrote a poem inspired by that picture called Thick Brown Leather:

https://soreismore.blogspot.com/2023/02/thick-brown-leather.html which both Erica and Nora loved.

But enough about my shit, what happened next is that Erica wrote the most heartbreaking, sweetest post about M: https://ericalscott.wordpress.com/2023/03/10/for-my-friend/

I sat there helplessly and cried and thought about that picture again. And then I wrote a poem about M and Erica that you've already read, because that's the only thing I can do. That's all. 

Now scroll up and read it again!