Dusty Paddles And A Jar Of Soap Scraps

rear view of lion
A clean, virginal canvas waiting for Mrs. Lion to begin painting again.

As Mrs. Lion wrote yesterday, I had a ruined orgasm on Saturday night. It was a bit of a surprise for both of us. It felt quite good even though I didn’t get the entire orgasm experience. I’m glad Mrs. Lion took the chance to push me hard enough to actually get to that point.

The thing is that the ruined orgasm is a good sign. I’m coming back. Over the last week or so I’ve recovered a lot of my balance and I’m doing things I haven’t done for over two months. I even cooked dinner last night. It wasn’t a gourmet feast. It was just sausage and peppers. But it’s the first time I’ve been able to stand up, use a knife for kitchen prep, and actually cook the food. We also went shopping on Saturday. I was able to wander around the store with Mrs. Lion instead of just going to the prescription counter and back to the car.

I feel good about this progress. I don’t feel particularly good about the physical challenges I’ve been facing and continue to face with my vision being affected. They are distractions for me. However, so far with Mrs. Lion’s help, I’ve been able to work around these limitations. Most of them are not permanent.

In her post Saturday, Mrs. Lion suggested that I might be punished if I fail to reach the edge when she masturbates me. That’s an interesting twist. Generally, punishments are given out for failure to comply with rules or fpr disobedience. Her suggestion applies to something I don’t consciously control, yet causes her (and me) a bit of distress when it occurs. She’s a very clever lioness. She knows that a spanking and/or other punishment is likely to prime my sexual pump. So it makes very good sense to punish me if I don’t perform sexually.

Last night, I was almost sure I would get my first spanking for this. However, Mrs. Lion’s perseverance got me to the edge and beyond. Apparently, I sit on the pre-orgasmic plateau much longer than I did before, to the point that it frustrates us both. With sufficient effort, I will get past that point. Perhaps Mrs. Lion needs to reconsider her punishment policy to spank me if I either don’t get to the edge or it takes too long for me to get there. I think that’s fair.

“How long is too long?” you may ask. I don’t know but I’m pretty sure she does. We know that it’s not possible to train someone to come more quickly. However, we have many years of experience with just how long it takes me under normal conditions. Certainly there can be very good reasons it can take me longer. I don’t think that matters. It’s not like spanking me is a cruel thing to do when I don’t perform as expected. While I don’t like it at the time, we all know I like getting spanked. I also find the other punishments if not pleasant, arousing before and after.

I’ve always liked a kind of game around spanking. Our NFL game, where I get two swats for every point either team scores, was a lot of fun for me. Sexual performance spanking is another opportunity for this sort of fun. I know that Mrs. Lion has written about the differences between play spanking and punishment. From my side of the paddle, I see less and less difference as time goes by.

My NFL swats feel just as powerful as a naughty lion spanking. I’m fine with this. The idea that a spanking is a spanking without distinguishing between the reasons for it, appeals to me. After all, the “fun” for me is anticipating and remembering what happened. I don’t think a punishment spanking will be diminished if so-called play spankings are administered the same way. After all, there is a difference: The play spanking is understood to be something we decided (well, Mrs. Lion decided) would be fun. The punishment spanking is understood to be retribution and education to change my behavior. I am never confused about which is which.

In the spirit of providing extra sexual stimulation, this new use of punishment may not be discipline in the classic sense, but it’s therapeutic for me just the same. On the subject of discipline, Mrs. Lion has yet to expand beyond the two initial rules I received years ago. Now that I am recovering and hopefully, less trouble, she may be able to focus more on her role as my disciplining wife.

I hope this will happen pretty soon. During our time of suspended rules and diminished play, I felt a bit of a hole in our relationship. For whatever reason, active discipline has become something we both integrated into the way we relate to each other. For me, it provides a sense of emotional balance. As the paddles gather dust and Mrs. Lion’s soap-scrap jar fills, I can feel myself becoming a little sadder and lost.

Since I am an independent and pretty aggressive soul, this surprises me. After the last couple of months, I can’t deny it. I know what you’re thinking. I was always this way: a closet submissive. I don’t think anyone is a submissive or a dominant. Regardless of how you want to label it, it’s obvious that I’ve become a disciplined husband. I need the firm hand of my wife. It feels a little odd admitting this. I suppose part of me wonders if that makes me less of a man.

Another part of me worries that this need puts additional pressure on my lioness to sustain her role. I think things are better when she does, but there is no chance that if she stops she will lose me. My love for her is far deeper. She’s my best friend and the one person in the world I trust with everything. The fact that she also trains me and punishes me is a special bonus I absolutely love.

I also think it’s true that our consistent pursuit of a disciplinary relationship has imprinted me with my role as disciplined husband. I suppose that means that if we stop doing it, eventually the imprint will fade and my need will diminish. I don’t get the sense that Mrs. Lion wants that. I know the extra trouble is sometimes annoying for her. I also know that whether she admits it or not, she appears happier when she is much more active as a disciplining wife. Besides, isn’t it easier to use the paddles rather than dust them? Isn’t it a shame to waste all that soap she’s been saving?