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In: Spanking

No matter how many days there are on the weekend, they seem to get away from me. I have so much to do; I guess I don’t know which way to go first and then I shut down. That’s not entirely true. I did go on a prescription/food run yesterday. I got more fruits and veggies for our diet. Today, I cleaned the kitchen sinks and started laundry. I should have done laundry yesterday. And I should have played with Lion yesterday too. I’m not sure why we didn’t play. We’ve both been tired. That was probably it.

Today, we have football playoffs. Our team is out, so it’s a matter of rooting for the least objectionable team left. Lion hates the Eagles and likes the 49ers. If I have to choose, I guess I choose the 49ers. Neither of us cares what happens in the AFC. This morning, Lion said we have to have our traditional nachos for the Super Bowl in two weeks. Duh! I said that when we first started the diet.

Lion will get eleven swats for each point scored. I guess, if the 49ers are our team, he’ll get eleven swats for every sack on the 49er’s quarterback as well. It might be a bad day to be a Lion. I don’t think we’ll play the game if we watch the AFC championship. That would be too much. Depending on how his buns feel, we might get in some play later on.

I think I’ll either tie his balls up or use clothespins tonight. Vastly different options. I know which one Lion prefers, but he doesn’t always get a vote. He’ll enjoy himself either way. Don’t let him fool you. He may say he hates IcyHot, but who lets me put it on him every so often? [Lion — Lets? Lets? I don’t get a vote.]

By:
In: Punishment

I am writing this post midday on Saturday. I still have a couple of sore spots from Thursday night’s spanking. It’s been a while since I’ve been punished. I really hate that word. I get an uncomfortable feeling every time I find it referenced to me. Even writing that I’ve been punished gives me a bad feeling. However, I don’t mind the word “spanked.”

I’ve noticed that other blogs written by men who are spanked almost never use the word “punished.” Spanking is an activity that hurts a lot. It also turns me on to think about it. I have to be dragged screaming to think about being punished. I wince every time Mrs. Lion writes about punishing me. That probably means it’s the right word to use.

I prefer saying that I’m going to be spanked for interrupting her. I know that’s not exactly right. I was punished for interrupting (I winced). My punishment was a spanking. I’d like to claim that saying I was spanked is the same. I know it isn’t. I can be spanked for fun by a friend or lover. I get aroused thinking about a spanking. Referring to my punishment as spanking is a way to sidestep the real meaning of what happened to me.

Mrs. Lion doesn’t necessarily have power over me in order to spank me. I can consent to it because it turns me on. In order to punish me, she has to have real power. To punish me means that she has real control. I may be free to break a rule, but when I do, she punishes me in any way she feels is effective. It’s not BDSM or sex. It’s retribution for displeasing her. If I’m naughty, I’m going to be punished.

I know that a lot of guys will insist that “punish” and “spank” mean the same thing, and that’s why they use spanking to mean punishment. I suspect they are like me and don’t like verbalizing the power they have surrendered. All I know is that when Mrs. Lion says, “I’m going to spank you,” I get a tingle. When she tells me, “You earned a punishment,” I feel dread. That says it all.

By:
In: Mrs Lion Comments

I flopped down on the bed next to Lion after work. I told him I needed a minute before I set up the massage table. He asked if I really wanted to do something with him. That usually means he doesn’t want to do anything. He was tired. Me too. To prove it, we both fell asleep. It was 6:45 when we woke up. Dinner was later than usual, but if we weren’t playing, that didn’t really matter.

Lion fell asleep watching Jeopardy. He usually snoozes after dinner. When I’d cleared the dishes and came back to the bedroom, I picked up my iPad. Lion mumbles something about being in it again. Does that mean I can mumble about his falling asleep every time he does it? Of course, it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t hear me mumbling. He doesn’t hear me when I’m talking to him, and I don’t realize he’s snoozing.

We watched some TV and Lion fell asleep. The show we were watching ended and it flipped to some show about a hidden treasure and some guy who found it in the ’30s. It was sort of interesting. The theory was that the Apache (I think it was them) stole gold and jewelry from Mexicans and whoever happened to cross their path and buried it. This guy found it. I have no idea how because I came in in the middle of the show. Lion woke up, realized our show was over, and changed the channel. I usually don’t say anything when he does it even though it annoys me. What if I was interested? Well, I was, so I said something. He changed it back. By then, it had become a conspiracy about someone killing the guy and getting away with murder and other people went for the treasure and the government was involved. It was still interesting, but not quite as much.

Anyway, my question still stands. Do I get to give him grief when he falls asleep like he gives me grief about being on my iPad? I know it’s two different things. He doesn’t control when he falls asleep. He may need the sleep. That’s why I don’t wake him up. But he’s still ignoring me like he says I do him when I’m on my iPad. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.

[Lion — I don’t think it’s the same at all. I usually don’t know that I fell asleep. It annoys me when I do. I like Jeopardy and I love being with Mrs. Lion. I am fine with her waking me up. I wish I didn’t fall asleep. I can’t help it.]

By:
In: Life with Mrs. Lion

The other night I was thinking back to when I first met my lioness. From the very start, I felt that she was special. No, it wasn’t that we had anal sex on the first date, though that was wonderful. Something else was there that touched me deep inside. It took me a while to realize just what it was.

Before I met Mrs. Lion I was in a nearly decade-long relationship with a woman who saw herself as a slave. She needed to feel that she was owned. That sort of thing is fun as a BDSM scene, but gets very difficult when it becomes a lifestyle. I wasn’t obsessed with the need to own a woman, but she was cute and sweet. I learned to love her.

Because she needed to feel possessed so strongly, she referred to any property we had as “Yours.” It was your dog, your house, etc. I accepted it as part of the way she was wired. I won’t go into detail about the rest of the arrangement. I will say that we worked out a way to sustain the relationship for almost ten years.

When we broke up, I searched for some sexy fun. I went to an online dating site. That’s where I found Mrs. Lion. Yes, I found my lioness on the Internet. Her picture was a closeup of her face. She was smiling. It was a wonderful smile, and as soon as I saw it, I knew that I had to try to meet her. Luckily, she didn’t live a million miles away. She lived about an hour and a half from my house. We met halfway at a motel. The rest is history.

Right from the start, after we finished fucking, I felt she was different. It wasn’t just her smile. When she spoke to me, she always used the first person plural. Everything was “we” and “us.” There was no “yours” and “mine.” I don’t think she was consciously aware of it, but even though we had spent less than an hour together, she referred to us as a unit.

I don’t know if, way back then, she felt a strong connection, but her language certainly signaled one. Those two small pronouns, “us” and “we,” moved me. They did. At first, it felt a little scary. Was I being trapped? By the time I got home from our first meeting, I felt the effects of her inclusion warming my heart. Her words didn’t trap me; they shared with me.

We had sex. We made plans. We shared our feelings and our bodies. That pronoun proved we were starting to share our lives. How many first dates are full of so much inclusion? She didn’t just give me her body. She shared much more. I wonder if she realizes how profoundly she affected me that day in August twenty years ago.