Friday night Mrs. Lion spanked me. I was being punished for forgetting to set up the coffee pot for the next morning. We’ve had domestic discipline in place for a few years now. Like everything else we do, it’s evolved. At first, for me at least, it was a sexy, humiliating fantasy come true. My memory of that tingly sexual heat returned when I read Julie’s latest post about receiving a punishment spanking. It was her first and carried a strongly mixed message of sexual humiliation, contrition, and arousal. Mostly, I suspect, arousal. (Click here to read her post).
Let’s face it, there is something very hot about the kind of surrender becoming the disciplined partner creates. It’s useful as long as it doesn’t overpower the real purpose of DD. It’s my sexual anticipation of a spanking that puts me in position to receive one. I’m not sure it sets the right tone for discipline, but it’s been effective for us.
Over time, my arousal at the thought of being punished has declined dramatically. Part of the reason is that my actual spankings are more intense. I absolutely hate them. As the time for the punishment grows near, any arousal I might have felt disappears and has been replaced by a sense of dread. I know what’s coming and I don’t like it a bit.
My strong sexual attraction to spanking prepared me for real punishment. If you read back through the last few years of our blog, you’ll see that my sexual interest was very high at the thought of being spanked. You’ll probably note that over time, the sexual pleasure and sense of naughty humiliation disappeared. I think this is normal.
The cause of this change in attitude came from Mrs. Lion adopting a serious attitude towards punishing me. Her objective was to make me sorry I committed an offense. Spanking wasn’t something designed to turn me on. I just have to endure the punishment. She isn’t interested in my feedback. She knows what she has to do and does it very well. I don’t feel humiliated because others are never involved and she doesn’t give me a time out in the corner or any other punishment desserts. That means I don’t have time to think about what happened. I can just roll over, feel my ass burning, turn on the TV and act as though nothing had happened.
Mrs. Lion doesn’t make punishing me an event. It’s just something she has to do. I know it isn’t fun for her and I know she doesn’t want it to be fun for me. She tells me to get in position. She has already selected the paddle she wants to use and she begins as soon as I’m available. She ignores the sounds I make or complaints I may offer. She goes about her business without a word. When she’s done, she informs me that she’s finished and she walks away.
This is definitely not what most of us fantasize about when we think about DD. However, it’s the reality I live with. Ironically, even though the spankings have been very painful, they don’t seem to have a lasting effect. I know Mrs. Lion would prefer that I feel the fruit of her labor the next day. I could offer suggestions on how she can do that. However, I won’t unless she asks.
The one thing that hasn’t happened, even though we are together all day and night, is spanking me in close proximity to when I commit the offense. For example, Mrs. Lion waited a day after discovering my failure to set up the coffeepot. If she announced to me that I had forgotten the next morning when she had to set up the pot herself, and immediately spanked me, I think it would’ve made a deeper impression.
My theory is that punishing in close proximity to the offense ties the spanking closely together with the reason I get it. Waiting many hours makes the spanking the event more than punishment for doing something wrong. Obviously, I know what I did and I’m sorry because I didn’t like the punishment one little bit. I just think it might’ve made a stronger impression if I was spanked as soon as she came in to tell me that she had to set up the coffeepot herself.
Of course, this input doesn’t matter. Mrs. Lion is in charge and if I ever doubt it, a maintenance spanking will remind me. By the way, that’s what they’re for.