homemade leather spanking paddle
The leather paddle I made over 20 years ago. (Click image to view larger)

Tuesday evening, after my shower, Mrs. Lion directed me to the spanking bench. It was time. My last spanking was just over two weeks before. This time, she meant business. The spanking began with the thick leather paddle I made over twenty years ago. It’s several layers of saddle leather glued and sewn together. It hurt like hell!

Things went downhill from there. Mrs. Lion switched to the bloodwood paddle with sandpaper on one side, and I was yowling. She let up a little by changing to a less painful paddle but soon resumed more painful swats. She reminded me that I had been complaining that she wasn’t severe enough. I knew I would regret that. Oh boy, did I ever! She took the full ten minutes despite my pleading and complaints.

Another surprise was waiting for me. While I was in the shower, Mrs. Lion put a strip of very scratchy coconut matting on the bed. When she finished spanking me, she instructed me to put my butt on the matting. It was very uncomfortable. The rough fibers dug into my tender, just-spanked flesh. I don’t know how long she made me stay on it. It felt like hours.

I’m writing this post on Wednesday afternoon. It hurts to sit in my desk chair. The pain is an echo of Mrs. Lion’s efforts the night before. I also remembered that during my spanking, I considered whether maybe I didn’t want to be spanked anymore. I certainly wasn’t having any fun. I know, I’m not supposed to be having fun. The truth is that this spanking was the first one in a long time that made its point. I hated it. The punishment, “dessert,” having to sit on the coconut shell mat, underlined just who was in charge.

It’s easy for me to forget that Mrs. Lion is in control. She’s very laid back and almost never asserts herself. This spanking was all her. From the moment I stepped out of the shower, she took charge. I wasn’t happy about it. I wasn’t in the mood to be spanked. Am I ever? At that moment, I  just wanted to lie in bed and watch TV. Mrs. Lion wasn’t interested in what I wanted to do. Now, a day later, I realize how good that was for me. I missed those times when my lioness reminded me who was really running the lions’ den. Even though it hurts to sit, I’m a happy camper.

Listen to this post.


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