I suppose it was bound to happen. I forgot to set up the coffee pot on Monday. Tuesday morning Mrs. Lion had to set it up herself. Failing to do this chore is the only reliable cause for a spanking. You’d think I would remember. My Outlook calendar puts a meeting notice on my screen every morning to remind me. On Monday I missed it. My excuse was that I attended a writing webinar that distracted me. That excuse didn’t impress Mrs. Lion. An unimpressed lioness delivers a painful message to remember my chore.
My lioness has been spanking for as many years as we’ve practiced male chastity. The sexual stuff is just an accepted part of my life. For no good reason, spankings always feel like surprises. I don’t mean that the punishment isn’t expected. It’s just that each time I’m strapped to the spanking bench, it feels like a new, unwelcome experience.
I suppose that’s a good thing. If a punishment becomes routine, it can easily be ignored. You know, get it over with, and we can go about our business. That wouldn’t have a lot of value in terms of my education. Every spanking has to stand out in my mind. That’s how it works. It isn’t an accident that it works that way.
For centuries, the spanking of both adults and children has been a common way to punish. It remains popular because it works. The vulnerable flesh we sit on is ideal as the object of marital education. As I see it, spanking provides the necessary ingredients for effective punishment. The person being spanked is vulnerable. There’s no way to pretend to be in control when someone is paddling your bottom. The spanking hurts and will keep on hurting until the person spanking you decides you had enough. It’s also humiliating to be made to accept a childish punishment.
This is particularly true of women spanking men. We males are taught to stay strong and in control. Surrender is to be avoided. Men don’t receive, they give, they penetrate, they decide. Not so much when the women of the house spank them. Domestic discipline is a great equalizer. I have the traditional male role in our house until Mrs. Lion decides I’ve crossed a line. Then I learn who is really in charge. It only takes her ten minutes to remind me.