Punishment’s Emerging Role in our Relationship

Friday: It’s been awhile since my Husband actually held me accountable to the rules we agreed upon back in April. As expected, when He doesn’t hold me accountable, I slip. And after slipping a few times, I just stop caring altogether. It’s like any other habit, really. If no one is watching and no one gives a crap if I do something, I pretty much stop doing that thing. But, last Friday night, while we were hanging out on the couch, he noticed that I was wearing slip shorts under my dress. “What day is it?” He asked. And His eyes said it all, flitting back and forth between my fabric-covered ass and my widening eyes. “Friday,” I responded, smiling and giggling a bit, suddenly knowing full well I’d broken a rule, but not taking it too seriously, as He hadn’t seemed to care much about it for weeks. “How many pairs of panties are you wearing?” “I’m wearing underwear and my slip shorts…” and then I continued to explain, or rather whine, about how I need to wear the slip shorts so my thighs don’t chafe. Normally, He chastises me with a look of disappointment, which is effective if I’m off just a bit or have slipped once or twice…but on occasion, and more often recently, He’s begun executing physical punishments. He promised me one of these punishments for wearing underwear, so when we went to bed, I fully expected a spanking…so much so, that when He announced that it was time, I rolled onto my stomach, begrudgingly, in expectation. But, He told me to roll onto my back instead, and began to suck on my left nipple…hard. Now…my nipples are extremely sensitive, especially if I’m not fully immersed in sexual activity (during which they often acclimate, and I begin to really enjoy them being played with). Because I was not “warmed-up” already, what might be termed “nipple play” for some was actually “nipple torture” for me. He continued to suck and suck and suck both of my nipples until I was a writhing, squealing mess, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. And the whole time, He chastised me and repeatedly asked me how many pairs of panties I’d worn, making me say the word “two” over and over. And then He’d ask me how many I’m supposed to wear on Friday, forcing me to repeat he word “none.” I didn’t like it. And I hate to admit it, but that is what made it effective. I’m unlikely to forget Friday is “no panty” day any time soon. Saturday: The following day, we went out to dinner and then stopped off at a grocery story to pick up a bottle of wine. He sent me in on my own, and, as they didn’t have our normal brand, I found one that we sometimes get instead. I saw the label…I saw that it’s color was somewhere in the vicinity of “purple,” like the type we like. I also bought a few mixers (7-up and lemonade) to turn mine into “spritzers.” We got home, and I poured us both a glass, as He set up a comedy show for us to watch. The drink was sweet, but for me, that was expected, as I had mixed mine. “This is awfully sweet…did you buy sweet wine?” “I don’t think so…I bought the kind we usually buy.” But, I wondered so I went and looked. Sure as shit, I bought “Sweet Red.” An honest mistake, yes. But one caused by inattentiveness. Plus, it was an opportunity for Him to let His inner sadist out. I explained that it was just a mistake, and He explained that it was a mistake I wouldn’t make again. So when we went to bed, He gave me the choice between 3 implements and His hand. I ended up with two choices, after telling Him I didn’t want the spoon (I fucking hate that wooden spoon) or His hand. Both of these have done a number on my ass in the recent past and I was hoping to sort of slide out of any real pain. I made the mistake, at this point, of telling Him I’d prefer the crop, because it didn’t really hurt. So He smacked my ass good with it, drawing immediate tears, showing that He can make anything hurt (or not) if He wants to. I got a few more swats that night, but the only one I remember is that first one…the one that made me cry…the one that proved He has full control over my pain. Sunday: Sunday is our “marriage talk” day, and one of the things we talked about was that I really need Him to hold me accountable to the rules. I need Him to take an active role as the Dominant if He expects my submissive side to continue to blossom. It’s like fertilizer for that side of me, when His Dominant characteristics rise to the top. And that doesn’t mean just punishment for transgressions (though that’s a part of it…since I crave boundaries). Some time ago, I didn’t want any type of physical punishment. You can do a search on this blog for “punishment” and find all kinds of conflicted opinions and thoughts about it. But, namely, I’ve had trouble with the concept because it has made me feel like a child…and that has added an element of humiliation. As if I’m not an equal in life. As if He’s swatting a dog. But, my head-space continues to change as it wraps itself around our particular brand of Dominance and submission, and currently, I’m feeling differently about it. There is definitely still a hue of humiliation that falls across my cheeks when He swats my ass or punishes me in some way, and internally, my stomach and brain both still do flip flops, alternating between angry “fuck you” thoughts to submissive “I’m sorry” thoughts. But the thing is…I’m laying there by choice. I’m holding my own hands behind my head. I’m following His instructions. I’m not jumping up and walking away. I’m giving Him that. I’m giving Him that. I could get up and say “Fuck this shit” at any time. But, I’m not. And that is a fascinating psychological thing, to me. I’ve opted to not only give Him control over my actions, but also how He deals with transgressions. A child doesn’t do that. A dog doesn’t do that. So while I do not have control over how He punishes me (unless He gives me a choice – which He did Saturday), I do have control over whether He punishes me at all. Somewhere in me, there is a piece that wants that. There is a piece that craves it…needs it. I don’t like disappointing Him. And while I can and do like a spanking from time to time just to set me straight or take the edge off (there’s a growing need for that, too), I do not like being punished for breaking rules. But there is something undeniably sexy about Him taking power and rising above me at these moments, because he does not do so in anger (that shows weakness). He does so with calm regard (which shows strength and thoughtfulness). I am not submissive to anyone other than my Husband, but this shows the very subtle ways in which a submissive like me is “trained.” He watches my reactions and is careful not to ride a wave of “domestic abuse.” If I cry when He hits me, He checks in…do you need to use your safe word? No. Is it too much? No. And we talk about it after…and He asks me to write about it, so He can understand what is really going on inside my head. Because this is also how a Dominant like Him is “built.” This is how a custom D/s marriage is created. One spanking at a time. So, do I love punishment? No. Do I love humiliation? No. But I do see its place in our relationship with a growing clarity. When I want it, the pain is good. When I don’t, the pain makes me cry. The same pain…with different results based on different situations, because the emotions and needs within those situations are not the same. When I wore panties on Friday, it was an obvious breaking of the rules. And a punishment made perfect sense. When I bought the wrong wine, it was not a breaking of rules, so a punishment in this situation was more about guiding me to be more attentive. This punishment was meant to make me a better person. We do not have a D/s contract (we’ve tried that before), but we do have a list of rules, and I feel like this type of punishment is built on His wish to guide me to be a better person. To focus, to make thoughtful choices, to be present. I can be very scattered, but corrections in this vein have the power to reduce that, because pain reaches the subconscious. I find it interesting (and appealing) that He is moving outside of our set of rules. It shows that He is growing as a Dominant, just as I am growing as a submissive. I do wonder what role “reward” will play as we move forward…because I love being spoiled and making Daddy happy.