Yesterday morning we luxuriated in bed, enjoying the quiet of a cloudy Saturday. We found “Annie Get Your Gun,” the 1950 movie of the Broadway musical on TV. Surprisingly, Mrs. Lion suggested we watch it. She doesn’t like musicals. I was surprised and happy she wanted to please me this way. One of the songs, “My Defenses Are Down” has the handsome, male lead bemoaning that he is in love with the title character, Annie Oakley. He sings, “Being miserable’s gonna be fun.” Ok, Irving Berlin took liberties with the language. Anyway, she turned to me and said, “That’s you.”
I have to agree. The wind has shifted here in the lions’ den. That doesn’t mean that life has been turned upside-down. But the weather vane is pointing in a new direction whenever there is a gentle breeze. The first zephyr brought with it Mrs. Lion’s admission that she was looking forward to me forgetting to tell her it was punishment day. That was Thursday. She wrote about it in her post the next afternoon. She actually wanted me to earn a spanking. She got her wish. I had completely forgotten and my butt was sore for some time when she finished reminding me.
I asked her about her post. She said that she didn’t enjoy swatting me but did like catching me breaking a rule. That was new. Friday night we went out to dinner at a deli that served nearly-authentic New York deli dishes. I had stuffed cabbage. I dripped a small amount of the sauce on my shirt. Mrs. Lion grinned and said, “uh oh.” I think she enjoyed catching me again.
When we got home I expected another painful reminder to eat without spilling. It didn’t come. That doesn’t mean I won’t pay the price later if she remembers I earned more swats. But it does mean that the transformation is far from complete in terms of discipline. However, the first and most important part of being my disciplinary wife is awareness of situations that require correction. That awareness becomes second nature eventually; at least that’s what I think will happen. Sooner or later, that awareness will translate to punishment; no more getting away with even small infractions.
The same thing is happening sexually. I’m getting daily edging. Mrs. Lion is pushing me closer and closer to orgasm. Somehow she manages to stop leaving me hard and dry. It’s very frustrating. By now I should be used to being edged. Somehow it is different. Mrs. Lion keeps edging me over and over until she can see that all I want is for her to let me come. Then she stops. In the past she stopped edging me before I reached that point. It was a very rare session that I felt this frustrated. Generally when I got to this level of desperation she would take pity and give me an orgasm. She’s not doing that any more.
She loves to make me come. In the past, I think that pleasure made her more likely to give me a release. She likes seeing me desperate and bucking. My behavior would trigger her desire to get me off. She told me she still feels that way, “….but too bad.”
It’s not like she has new resolve to be a better keyholder and disciplining wife. She did say she enjoys the sense of accomplishment she gets by being successful in her role. I think the real motive is that she is starting to see her role a a challenge. The stricter she is about enforcing her rules and the more frustrated she can make me by teasing me shows her that she is winning. The reward isn’t that she gets to spank me more often. The spanking, to her at least, is part of the game. It makes me work harder to avoid giving her another reason to punish me. It is part of the challenge for her; just not the part she particularly enjoys. But it is a necessary part and I can tell she is going to make it something I will work even harder to avoid.
Edging me is a similar challenge. She wins when she locks me up desperate for release. She hasn’t said that she gets the same satisfaction from that as catching me breaking a rule, but I think it is similar. I don’t think she will make me wait longer and longer. But I believe she will insure that my wait is long enough to give her lots of time for the game. That means, I think, that my waits will be at least a week, probably two or three.
Like the song says, “Being miserable’s gonna be fun.”