So much of spanking and domestic discipline fiction seems to focus on the humiliation of a grown man having his bare bottom spanked. For example, one story talks about a guy who visits the mother of a girl he’s dated. He walks in while she is spanking her husband in the bedroom. He quickly leaves. He hopes he hasn’t been seen. The next time he comes over, the woman lets him know she saw him looking while she beat her husband. He expresses curiosity about being spanked. She asks him if he would like her to spank him. He agrees. She then gives him a very painful spanking. After she finishes she lets him know that unless he proposes to her daughter, she will let everyone know what happened.

It’s a thin plot. It has several elements that seem to be important in spanking fiction: The man gets his first spanking because he’s curious. Sometimes, he gets it because he deliberately gets himself into trouble. Next, the person who spanks him the first time is a female authority figure. She could be an aunt, neighbor, or someone else who he would not expect to be in a disciplinary role with him. Occasionally, his first spanking comes from his sister or one of her friends. The final element is that it’s made clear he will be getting regular spankings from then on.

Creating hot stories about spanking is very easy if you remember those three elements. How about real-life domestic discipline? Is it as predictable? It certainly wasn’t in my case. My first disciplinary spanking came from Mrs. Lion at my request. I had long thought about being in a power exchange where I get spanked when I do something I shouldn’t. I admit that a good part of my desire for this was the fact that I got turned on every time I thought about being spanked on my bare bottom. Over the years prior to being with Mrs. Lion, I had received spankings in BDSM scenes. While I never maintain an erection during those spankings, the memory of them is very arousing.

it isn’t the same unless it’s real

The idea of making them “real” has always been irresistible. I loved the idea of my partner spanking me when she felt I needed it. My thinking about why I got spanked in these fantasies was very thin. My focus was on the humiliation of having to put myself into position to be spanked and the actual spanking itself. I was very good at communicating this information to my lioness. I had very little to offer about the rest of the experience.

It’s taken us a long time to evolve into a true disciplinary relationship. We both had a lot more to learn than I imagined when we started. For one thing, I never considered how difficult it would be for Mrs. Lion to spank me. Sure, we had played and she had made my bottom a little red. She knew I liked it and did it to accommodate me. All of a sudden she was being asked to use that paddle to punish me. It wasn’t a natural step for her to do that.

I had to encourage her a lot. It took a long time (years) for her to get to the point that she could painfully spank me without feeling remorse for hurting me. She’s at that point now, of course. We discuss spanking on a fairly regular basis. I continue to encourage her to be more severe. This not that I like being hurt more and more, it’s that I realize every time she has increased the intensity of her punishment, it’s been more effective in improving my behavior and making me more settled.

It’s hard for me to explain, but after the initial pain dies down, a feeling of being loved and cared for comes over me. This feeling grows in proportion to the severity of my spanking. It’s almost like there’s a connection between feeling the sincerity of my punishment and a deep understanding of how loved I am. Does that make any sense? This happened to me on a much less profound level in the past during BDSM scenes. I always attributed it to high endorphin levels that put me into “sub” space. But that was different. I don’t feel the endorphins after Mrs. Lion punishes me. She makes sure that she is hitting hard enough to stay way ahead of anything that might give me pleasure. No, the feeling is a sense that my world is balanced and right.

My desire for this feeling may have something to do with my wish to get spankings more frequently. When weeks go by without punishment, I miss it. I don’t miss the painful spanking; I’m very sure of that. I miss how I feel afterward. I miss the very deep connection I feel with Mrs. Lion after she disciplines me. I suspect she gets a similar feeling. The reason I say this is because she has expressed feeling unsatisfied giving me a maintenance spanking. I agree with her about that. Somehow, regardless of how hard she spanks me, it doesn’t have the same profound sense of “right” associated with it. Even breaking a trivial rule and then being punished seems to turn on that inner switch that gives me that special feeling.

On fairly rare occasions Mrs. Lion has spanked me more than once in a week. At one point I got two or three spankings a day apart. I forgot what I did to earn it, but it was memorable to receive. As I look back at it I realize that I hated how much it hurt and did not look forward to repeat performances, but I also liked the idea she was doing it. Go figure.

Let’s get the red in

Our most recent spanking conversation was about photography. We are both disappointed that we don’t seem able to record the red color of my bottom after she spanks me. Sure, the purple bruises come out very clearly, but the overall red glow is yet unseen by me or you. She is used both a point-and-shoot camera which optimizes the color of each picture and my Nikon DSLR. The Nikon produces both a JPEG and a camera raw image. The camera raw image has no computer-generated improvements. Nevertheless, I’m still unable to find the red.

I realize that I’ve never been particularly easy to mark. Mrs. Lion’s conveyor belt paddles easily make purple spots. However, even though they’re visible for a day or two after my spanking, they leave no residual pain. The lighter, wooden paddles don’t seem to easily create purple marks. They add the red. They also sting like hell. I stupidly suggested that Mrs. Lion use them much more extensively until she gets a nice deep red. I assume that that is possible. It may be that I just don’t color that way. I am very sure that she will do her best to produce that color. I am also very sure that I will absolutely hate every second of her effort.

From a disciplinary’s perspective, going for the red does make a difference in my post-spanking sensations. I don’t generally feel the purple at all. However, the more of the stinging, paddle swats I receive the more my bottom feels like it is on fire. If Mrs. Lion has been particularly severe, I can feel that burning for hours. I have to admit that I absolutely hate every second she is working on that burn. Those rubber paddles really hurt, but repeated swats with the wood ones are much worse. The longer she keeps it up, the more unhappy I get.

One thing that stops her earlier in the process then she might want is the fact that I start bleeding. The blood seems to come out from invisible cracks in my skin. There is no sore after the spanking. There is absolutely no scab or other trace of a wound. The blood just seems to appear. I’ve read that other people have had similar problems. I suppose if she keeps a few small Band-Aids with her, she can pause for a second or two to cover that spot to prevent the blood from spattering. When this first happened, it was disturbing to us. She took some pictures immediately after the spanking and I enlarged them and could see no sign of any injury. It’s messy but harmless.

I don’t know about Mrs. Lion, but I’m learning a lot as she becomes a more effective disciplinarian. I’m consciously avoiding any opportunity to earn a spanking. I absolutely refuse to do something wrong just to be spanked. I realize that doesn’t make a lot of sense if I also feel it’s good for me to get spanked. However, the point of being disciplined is to teach me. The fact that I refuse to consciously offend is very good evidence that the educational process is successful.

getting hard thinking about a spanking doesn’t make it hurt less

I used to think that I had to separate my erotic feelings about spanking from discipline. I reasoned that if I get turned on by spanking, its value as a educational tool is diminished. It isn’t. The fact that I get aroused thinking about being spanked and actually hope to get a spanking, is a good thing. It helps encourage me to confess to offenses and not resist being spanked when Mrs. Lion decides it’s time to punish me. It’s a weird kind of motivator. What I find most interesting about this is that no matter how hot I think it is to be spanked, the actual experience is awful and I always regret earning it.

We still play spanking games. For example, our football game has me getting two swats for every point either side scores. They are administered during the commercial after the touchdown. Some games have an aggregate of more than 100 points. That means I’ve gotten 200 swats. It’s not the same as being punished. It’s fun and plays into my erotic enjoyment of my bottom being hit. Mrs. Lion does not hold back. She’s learned to hit hard even when we play games.

Somehow on a very deep level I know the difference between play spanking and punishment. I thought it would be intensity. A punishment spanking would be much more intense. I suppose it is. But I’ve gotten purple marks from football play as well as from punishments. I know the difference in my reactions are commensurate with what Mrs. Lion intends. Sure, I yelp and sometimes scream during football swats, but I know they’re for fun and they don’t affect me in the same way punishment does. That’s probably why maintenance spanking doesn’t work for me. It’s like football play. Sure, it hurts, but it has nothing to do with the need to correct me. It’s the process of correcting me for doing something I shouldn’t that provides the secret sauce between punishment and non-punishment spanking.

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  1. I’m like you. The idea of a spanking or other punishment gets me excited. The actuality is never liked, and Angus wilts like a dry flower.

    1. Author

      No wonder women think we are dumb! 🙂

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