Punishment? Wait a minute...

 I’ve mentioned before how long it’s been since I was punished. I’ve missed it, somehow, for so many reasons. The submissive in me likes knowing there are boundaries. I feel content knowing that Jason has the authority to do this, by my consent. Plus, I think it’s hot. His stern demeanor, and the actual reckoning over his knee. 

 

I don’t like it when it happens, though. It hurts, and it’s often embarrassing to be punished, though I do think part of the efficacy of a full grown adult being punished is the humiliation factor. So I have tried to talk myself out of it. I have denied that I need it. I’ve asked him not to follow through sometimes. 

 

But he knows me well, and he knows when I need mercy and when I need sternness. So even though he occasionally grants mercy, he also follows through if he knows I need to be held accountable. 

That said, it’s been so long that I really haven’t experienced any of this in months and months. I remembered it, and occasionally would even have a wistful sort of feeling. “Aw, remember when you used to punish me? Those were the good old days.” Ok, I’m being facetious, but you know… I did think back on those days fondly. They were the days where we established ourselves and our roles. And though I knew I didn’t like being punished, I did remember how good it felt afterwards. 

 

I’d be all soft and submissive and humbled. He’d hold me. He’d be gentle and kind and tuck me into bed. We’d more often than not make love afterwards. We’d be as close as humanly possible. I would often think he was so damn hot, my stern and sexy dom. 

 

And I missed that. All of that. 

 

I mentioned it at times, and he would just tell me, “but you’re such a good girl.” We relied on other ways of connecting, of reminding each other of our roles. But other than the occasional firm and well-placed swat to keep me in check, punishment hasn’t happened.  

Until the other night.

 

 

I was tired and angry about something, and some of my kids were on my last nerve. I raised my voice (a rarity these days), and swore (not allowed in this context at all). He warned me. I ignored him, and I’ll admit in the moment, a little part of me was like, “Oh yeah? Make me.” 

 

There was nothing hot about this. I didn’t intentionally brat. I was angry, I was acting impetuously, and I had no real expectation that he’d follow through with more than a warning look or sharp tone. So I didn’t even really try to obey. I just plowed right through. 

Stormed off to bed. Flounced down, muttering to myself. Lifted the covers up. 

 

He came into the room coolly, and without missing a beat said, “You’re getting paddled tonight.” 

 

I was seriously shocked. I didn’t think he’d actually punish me.

 

Punishment….wut dat?? 

 

So I kinda gave him a curious look. “Why?” 

 

He looked back. “Why? You just yelled and swore. We have rules about that. Do not go to sleep, we’re not done yet.” 

 

You’d think I’d be a little scared, or a little curious, or…something. But I wasn’t. I was furious. 

 

How dare he decide to hold me accountable again with no warning? How dare he just decide to all of a sudden put punishment back on the table? How?? To be fair, it was never off the table, it was just a tool we haven’t needed or used in a very long time. 

 

Still, I told myself it wasn’t fair, that he didn’t have the right. I was so far from a submissive mindset it wasn’t even funny. 

 

We hadn’t been checking in – we broke the chain, kids had school vacation, we were so all over the place with finding a time and place. He had gone over my rules but everything felt sort of halfhearted. I hadn’t called him daddy, I hadn’t done any of the things I normally do to submit. 

And I was angry, so angry. How could he not pay any attention to me, not help me at all to stay in my submissive place, and then just boom decide it was time to punish me? 

 

But he got up and locked the door and called me over to him. And I had one brief moment of considering totally defying him. I didn’t want to submit. But the reality is, we’ve been doing this long enough that I know exactly how this goes. I know it well. I know that refusing to submit would get me in the kind of trouble neither of us wanted to experience. I know that if he decides to punish me and I refuse, I’d get a seriously severe spanking. 

 

I’ve had a few of those. They’re terrible. I knew even in my anger and frustration I didn’t want to go there. 

 

So I decided to grin and bear it, so to speak. I mean metaphorically because believe you me, there was no grinning going on. 

 

Up I went. Furious. I don’t even think he knew how angry I was. I bent over his knee like he instructed, and he let me have it. He used some kind of serious implement – the hairbrush? He lectured. And he spanked me hard and thoroughly. When he was done, I was still as angry and walled-up as I was before he started. 

 

If we’d been doing this more frequently, he probably would’ve known. He can read me really well. When he punishes me, he punishes to the point of repentance usually. But he didn’t know, he just sent me to bed. And before I knew what was happening, I was on his chest, the wall broke into a million little pieces, and I started to cry. 

 

And it all just tumbled out. I did my best to communicate my hurt and anger and frustration without being a brat about it, and without putting a blame on him. 

 

“It’s so hard,” I told him. “So, so hard to submit to punishment when we haven’t been doing this at all. I’m nowhere near my submissive mindset and it makes me so angry.” 

 

He was quiet and he listened as I poured my heart out. “Is part of this my fault?” he asked, and I honestly hated telling him the truth. 

 

“Yes, at least a little,” I told him. “We go for days and weeks without this, so I just slip into my own take-charge mode. I can’t just flip those hats on and off so quickly, it doesn’t work. It just makes me angry.”

 

I cried and cried. We talked and talked. No one was angry. We just discussed what needed to happen, why, and how. 

 

We went to bed, and the next day, I was still a bit perplexed about what had happened. I was surprised by my own reaction. But soon, Jason was awake, smiling at me, all sexy dom. He called me over and we discussed the night before. We went over the rules. No spanking because I was still super sore, but we focused back on where we belonged. 

 

And it hasn’t gone perfectly since then, because it doesn’t work that way. We still have a house full of curious, precocious teens who have sleeping habits that resemble vampires, a full house of children and we’re still, thanks to the pandemic, home all day, every day, all of us. Privacy is still at a premium. But we’re still who we are, and always have been.