I like nothing more than planning, so as soon as Sir had told me to make up a list of what I wanted in my routine, I dived into the work. The first list I made had about 15 things on it, and I realized that was not going to be a sustainable plan. I decided to break it down into categories. I would include a long-term goal and short-term goals to help me move in the right direction.

That helped, but it was still a bit overwhelming. I didn’t know what Sir was devising for the structure but I definitely didn’t want to set myself up for failure. I took my planner and my ipad to the coffee shop in the afternoon, and by the time we were sitting down for dinner, I was ready.

Of course, we didn’t talk about it over dinner, but once we had finished eating and had the dishes in the dishwasher, the counters wiped and floor swept, Sir sat down at the desk in our study. We often relaxed here in the evening. His recliner, and a smaller one for me, were placed in front of the fireplace. The small table between our chairs had a drawer that contained some of his favorite toys. The cushions on the floor were for me., and so was the ottoman that I often bent over The desk was in the far corner of the room, not a work desk for either of us, just a place for household business – paying bills and such. So I was surprised when he settled there.

“You may bring a cushion,” he said, gesturing to the floor at his feet. “Clothes off first.”

I had started to grab a cushion, but froze at the second command. I didn’t want to take my clothes off. I mean, I would do it, of course. But this was not what I’d imagined. I’d pictured us planning together, sitting side by side.

I hesitated too long. “Problem?” he asked.

“No, Sir!” I replied quickly, pulling my top off over my head. A tug on my skirt and it pooled at my feet. I stepped out of it, quickly picking it back up, folding it neatly, laying it with my top on the back of my chair. I was not wearing a bra or panties so now I was naked, as required.

Feeling vulnerable and exposed -as I always did, still, when he he had me naked at his feet – I grabbed a cushion and settled myself on the floor. I was close enough for him to touch, and he grasped my hair at the nape of my neck, turning my face up to him.

“I will ask you again,” he said, “Do you agree to follow my structure, to accept any consequences I choose, any methods I use to discipline you as I see fit for 30 days?”

Nearly breathless, my heart pounding, I said, “Yes, Sir, I do agree.”

He nodded, still not releasing his grip on my hair. “You realize,” he continued, “that this is a shift in our relationship. A new level of surrender. Even if you decide it’s not what you want, I don’t think we will be able to go back to how things were before. Do you understand that?”

I bit my lip, I had not really thought of that. But in this moment, I knew he was right. “Yes, Sir,” I said, “I understand.”

He smiled and released me. “Good. Now, get your plan and let’s take a look at it.”

************

“This looks good,” he said. I sighed with relief. He had been studying my plan for what felt like a very long time. He went on, “Long term, you want to improve your physical health through changes in food and exercise, become more self-aware and more mindful to improve emotionally and mentally. Correct?”

“Yes, Sir,” I said.

“And your hope is that by improving in those areas, you will connect more deeply with your own spiritually.”

I nodded, “Yes, Sir.”

He smiled. “Ok.” He went on to review the goals and action steps I had outlined. He didn’t say anything again for what seemed like a long time.

At last, he looked down at me. “This is good,” he said, and I felt a rush of pleasure and blushed, aware of the heat between my thighs. “This week,” he went on, “You’ll do three things. You’ll exercises for 15 minutes a day. I don’t care if it’s belly dance or stretches or yoga, but 15 minutes every morning. You’ll write in your journal for 15 minutes every morning. Not work related, not kinky blogging either. And 15 minutes of meditation. These three activities – exercise, writing and meditation – need to be completed between 7 am and 9 am. We’ll try giving you that much flexibility this week and see how you do. Clear?”

“Yes, Sir!” I said, pleased that he had chosen the things I most wanted to do.

He continued, “Every evening, you’ll spend between 15 and 30 minutes in here, naked, at this desk, writing about your progress that day. I’m thinking about having you post that on your blog, but for now you can publish it privately for my eyes only. You can also include whatever consequences you had the night before. Does that make sense?

I nodded again, feeling anxious about the possibility of posting this publicly, and wondering what kind of consequences there would be. “Yes, Sir,” I said, but I knew I sounded a bit doubtful.

He laughed. “Don’t worry, we’ll use a template for the post. Each post will start with, ‘Last night, Sir rewarded me/corrected me by…. and you can briefly describe what the consequences were. Then ‘I felt … during the reward/correction’ and ‘I felt… after the reward/correction. Then you can briefly describe what exercise you did, what meditation you used, and whether or not you wrote in your journal in the morning. That’s it. Questions?”

“No, Sir,” I said slowly, “No questions. Let me make sure I understand…” and I repeated it all back to him.

“Yes, yes, ” he said, clearly pleased. “Very good. I’ll have a chart for you to initial as well, over here next to the desk. I expect you to do all of your new work in this room, and you can use our video set-up to record your exercise and meditation.”

“What?!” I squealed, without even thinking about how Sir would react.

Fortunately, he laughed. “Yes,” he said. I decided, for this first week anyhow, that would be the best way to measure how well you’re doing with those guidelines.”

I swallowed hard. He continued, “We’ll set you up over there – you can move the cushions out of the way. I still have that video camera we’ve used before and I can set it up so all you have to do is start it. Clear?”

“Yes – ” I stammered a bit. “Yes, Sir. But – you’re going to watch me exercise?”

“Of course,” he said. I’ll expect you to show me what you’ve written in your journal too. I won’t read it, but I need to be able to see your progress.”

“OH. Yes. Sir. Um, of course.”

“Ok. I’m so proud of you, baby. I know this must be difficult, but you’re doing such a great job. Are you ready to hear your rewards and consequences?

“Yes, Sir,” I said quickly.

“Spankings,” he said. “There will be lots of spankings. Expect a spanking most nights. Reward spankings are with a flogger or maybe my belt. When they end, I may let you worship my cock, and there will probably be an orgasm for you. Negative consequences spankings are with a paddle or crop, maybe a switch. No warm-up. Aimed most often at sit spots or thighs.”

He paused to let that sink in. I was breathing shallowly and whether that was anxiety over the punishments or arousal for the rewards, or both, even I didn’t know.

“And you’ll write lines,” he went on. “Reward lines might be 5 times, writing, “My Sir is very proud of me.” Negative consequences? Ten or twenty times writing, ‘I will do better tomorrow so I can be proud of myself and have orgasms and good girl spankings.” Or something like that. I’ll get you a special notebook for these lines.”

Oh, I could feel deep inside myself how powerful those contrasting consequences would be. “Thank you, Sir,” I said, and there were tears in my eyes, tears of happiness. He stroked my cheek, kissed my forehead.

“Go get the flogger, The blue one,” he said. “We’ll begin tonight. A spanking, then I’ll let you please me with your mouth. If you’re a good girl, and I know you will be, there will be orgasms for you too. Go now.”

And I did.