Her Oldest Kid

pickle on plate
It was just a pickle.

“Just think how good it will feel when you finally get to come.”

Great googa mooga! She really said that.

The other night after a very intense edging session, Mrs. Lion saw my urgent look and said that line. She did; with a straight face. I have no idea how she meant it, but that simple sentence sent a complex and surprisingly welcome message to me.

Earlier last week we were watching “Wheel of Fortune” on TV. Mrs. Lion is very good at guessing the answers. She should go on. We could win a year’s supply of Rice-a-Roni and maybe a trip somewhere warm. When one of the contestants was being interviewed, she said, “I have three kids; George, Jane, and Bill.”

Pat Sajak, the witty talk show host, asked, “How old are they?”

She replied, “7, 10, and 34. I’m married to the oldest.”

The other female contestants and Mrs. Lion laughed knowingly. Later, I asked Mrs. Lion about that line. I wondered if other women refer to their husbands that way. She said that most do.

“Even you?”

“Of course.”

Just like that. Matter of fact tone of voice. When she told me to think how good it would feel when I finally come, she was talking to her oldest kid: me. Maybe a light bulb turned on in her head too.

On Friday, the next day, she decided I should pack up the Jail Bird and send it back to Mature Metal. The security screw keeps loosening up after only a day of wear. Mature Metal informed me that this happens quite often and they suggest the screw should be used only on devices that stay locked in place at least three weeks. Mrs. Lion and I decided we would just get the ring rethreaded and continue using the security screw even though I get a bit of time in the yard every day.

Anyway, she removed the device and I cleaned it in our ultrasonic jewelry cleaner. I then packed it up for shipping. When I got back into the bedroom, Mrs. Lion disappeared into our extra room where a lot of impact toys are stored. She came back with a very heavy rubber paddle. When I was topping, bottoms told me this was my meanest toy.

I asked her what she was going to do with it.

“Spank you, of course.”


“Didn’t you forget to wear your training collar when we went to dinner? Didn’t you start eating before me?”

“It was just a pickle. We hadn’t been served yet.”

[Lioness eye roll] “Did you ask if you could eat it?”

“Um, no.”

“Roll over.”

I slowly rolled over onto my stomach. Mrs. Lion was very generous with strong swats. She paused when I tried to squirm away. Then, she began again. It hurt like hell! Finally, she stopped. I had a very hot, sore bottom. I could feel some welts and Mrs. Lion said that she saw a bruise.

“Was that a proper spanking?” she asked archly.

I said it was. I was thinking that I was being hung by my own petard. She was referring to a post I wrote earlier in the week. That post suggested that a proper spanking would change my behavior; for a while, anyway. I told her it was. The last thing I wanted was for her to pick up the paddle and make the spanking “proper.” Oh no. Here I am, the next day, and I can still feel echos of that punishment.

I will regret saying this, but I think that she is well on her way to punishing me enough to be seriously deterred from repeating my sins. I don’t think we are quite there, but close.

Anyway, I was no longer caged. I had the Jail Bird all packed up and I was back on the bed. My hand drifted south. I was on my way to absentmindedly touching her weenie (See? I referred to it correctly, Mrs. Lion). She said,

“Do you want another spanking?”

My butt was still painful and hot. I pulled my hand back and said that I didn’t.

“Then keep your hand away from my weenie!”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

That was another first. Maybe that “Wheel of Fortune” interview reminded Mrs. Lion that she often refers to me as her oldest kid.

The fact is that the most recognizable form of female dominance is that of a mother. Mom’s in charge. Mrs. Lion’s in charge. She tells her friends that I’m her oldest kid. I want her to lock me in a chastity device and be my disciplining wife in our FLR. It’s not hard to connect those dots.

It worked! It all worked. Boy howdy, did it work. Her words about how nice an orgasm will feel when I finally get one echos in my mind. My hands haven’t gone near her weenie since her admonition. My bottom sends me little messages if I sit a certain way.

Without going all Freudian about this, all I can say is that what she said and did worked strongly on me. I have no idea if this is the beginning of a new lioness. If it is, I welcome her. However you want to spin it, last week all the pieces of enforced chastity, female led relationship, and domestic discipline just clicked together. I find this new pattern very natural. It works for me.

Right now I’m feeling a little tingle down “there.” I want to reach down and play a bit. But I’m not going to do it. I’m telling myself that it isn’t concern about another rubber-paddle spanking. It’s just that I want to be good. Yeah, that’s the ticket. I want to be a good boy.