#Happy Nude Year
Happy Nude Year is one of the leading Twitter topics (on New Year’s Day). Kinda fun, don’t you think? I spend most of my days nude or nearly nude. In all of 2022, I spent less than a week wearing more than a t-shirt. It’s gotten so “normal” for me that Mrs. Lion doesn’t even notice. For that matter, neither do I. While she was out of work, Mrs. Lion also spent most days clothing-free.
I never planned on being a nudist. It started almost twenty years ago when Mrs. Lion began staying over at my house. At the time, we were experimenting with her being in charge. I had the idea that if I weren’t allowed to wear clothes at home, it would emphasize her dominance. It also made my bottom instantly available for correction. I don’t think that she had any feelings on the subject, but it turned me on. So she adopted the rule.
The idea was that the most I could wear at home was a t-shirt unless I was really cold. In that situation, I could add sweatpants. My house was usually comfortably warm. I never needed more than the t-shirt. Mrs. Lion never punished me for being dressed. I don’t think I ever broke that rule. She never mentioned it to me. Being naked was normal for me. It felt odd if I wore anything at home. After nearly two decades, the subject never comes up, and all I wear is a t-shirt.
The only reason I thought about this was seeing the Twitter prompt. All my years are nude. The days are long gone when I gave thought to the idea that my exposure was a sign of my submission to my lioness. It doesn’t matter. It remains a valid expression of our power exchange. When I wear a male chastity device, I feel her power for the first few days of wearing it. Then, like my nudity, it becomes just part of my lot in life. Truth be told, I rarely think about Mrs. Lion’s control of my orgasms. It’s just the way things are.
That’s both good and bad news. It’s good in the sense that she never has to worry about me masturbating. She knows that she is my sole source of sexual pleasure. The bad news is that orgasm control and nudity have lost their ability to remind me of her control. Domestic discipline is the one remaining element that maintains the power to remind me of our roles. Every time she spanks me, I am fully aware that she is in charge.
I always liked the idea of being spanked. For many years, Mrs. Lion gave me BDSM spankings because I wanted them. They didn’t imply any real power exchange. Once Mrs. Lion began giving me truly unpleasant spankings when she decided I needed one, I felt her control. Even the punishment day spankings have that effect on me. This is because she can choose to use a wooden paddle for ten minutes or a leather one for just five. Both hurt, but obviously, the wood paddle is much more difficult to take.
Mrs. Lion isn’t interested in my input. If I complain or yelp, she considers that encouragement. Spankings are supposed to hurt. Her spankings hurt a lot. When I complain about a sore bottom, she smiles and says, “Good.” We haven’t discussed it, but perhaps one reason we need to have frequent spankings is that it’s the only remaining reminder of our power exchange.