I Can’t Believe I Am Being Punished Again

I may be suffering from early dementia. For the life of me, I can’t seem to remember to remind Mrs. Lion that Saturday is one of our punishment days. I forgot again this week. On Sunday morning she reminded me that I will be getting a spanking for this. Of course, this is the inevitable consequence of forgetting. I’m not a happy camper about it. My version of Windows has a nice calendar feature. I’ve belatedly added Saturday punishment day to it. Hopefully, it will remind me in time to avoid a spanking next week.

I really have to get better at this stuff. I don’t like being punished. I suppose we will find out if punishment is really effective as a memory aid. I’m starting to doubt it. I absolutely forgot on Saturday. It wasn’t one of those fleeting oh-yeah-I-need-to-remember sorts of things. It simply didn’t occur to me until way past my 8:30 PM deadline. In fact, we were both in bed with the lights out when I suddenly remembered my omission. I must’ve muttered, “damn” under my breath. Mrs. Lion asked me what’s wrong. I told her. Her response was, “I guess you did.”

Even though we’ve been in our disciplinary relationship for about four years, I’ve only started taking punishment seriously fairly recently. It’s not that earlier spankings didn’t hurt. They did. It’s hard to explain, but they didn’t hurt the same way. Even though the last time she spanked me, Mrs. Lion did give me a bunch of milder warm-up swats, what followed was extremely painful. She didn’t even stop when I bled a little bit. I’m not complaining. Well, I may be whining a little. All I can say is that the last two times she has spanked me, I’ve thoroughly hated the experience.

In fact, I’ve hated it so much, that mid-spanking I was thinking I wanted to end domestic discipline. It was absolutely no fun. Even if I followed through I’m sure that Mrs. Lion would have simply laughed at me. This was truly not a get-your-cock-hard-when-you-think-about-it spanking. This was something I truly didn’t want to experience again. It may have taken me a while to figure it out, but real-life domestic discipline is absolutely no fun.

I recently read a female blogger’s domestic discipline “contract”. It boiled down — and it took a lot of boiling; it was very long — to the simple fact that her disciplining husband could punish her any way he wants, once. She had the right to veto further occurrences when they had a monthly, or was it weekly, “maintenance” meeting. At that time she had the contractual right to take his ability away to do whatever it is she didn’t like. Essentially, it boils down to only punish me the way I want to be punished.

It took us a long time to get past that. I’m not sure what flipped the switch, but Mrs. Lion must have decided to give me what I asked for. I had been saying that I wanted real punishments. I defined that as something I would absolutely dislike. Since spanking is her punishment of choice, that means the spanking should be so unpleasant I would actively avoid getting another.

Okay, Mrs. Lion, you’ve done it. On Sunday morning, she told me that I had a spanking coming. I was hoping she would overlook my little transgression. No such luck. Since this is at least the third time in as many weeks I’ve forgotten, I can expect even more pain than I suffered Friday night. Whether or not she bruises me isn’t important. She doesn’t need to leave marks to make me hate being punished.