The Punishment Book

[I didn't get a chance to answer this Sunday, but it was such an interesting question I thought I'd reply here and and on my blog.]

This week at her brunch, Bonnie asked: 

Have you or your partner been given a choice between receiving a spanking or something else and chose the spanking? If so, how does the act of consciously choosing to be spanked alter the spankee's mindset?

In discipline or punishment terms, I always choose the not-spanking option.  It's not often that Paul gives me a choice -- a large part of what works in our dynamic is that I'm not in control, that I don't get to decide.  But when I've had the option of writing lines or something non-physical I think I've always chosen it.  This is because for me the idea that I could be spanked is the powerful one, more powerful even than the act of being spanked.  Part of that for me is that spanking has to feel like the last resort as a punishment, heavy enough that I'd choose anything else above it. That's the theory anyway.  The reality hasn't been tested much.

I suppose in reality most of the time I'm being punished I've chosen to be spanked in the sense that I could always opt out.  Probably.  I've never tried to though.  The times I've asked to be spanked / punished for something are few and far between.  Those have been very submissive moments and during the punishments I've found it easier to accept the pain and not struggle against it. 

Play is different.  I do ask for spankings sometimes in play / everyday life.  Those times, when I get them which is almost always, I feel a lovely contentment and gratitude for my partner.  Best of all?  When he pounces on me and spanks me just because he wants to -- those times I feel attractive and well loved. 

 

quia peccavi
nimis cogitatione, verbo et opere:
mea culpa,
mea culpa,
mea maxima culpa.

(Okay, this starts out like an account of a play scene, but isn't. If you're looking for that you're going to be disappointed.  Fair warning)

Here I'm going to digress just a little bit.  I'm Roman Catholic -- have been since birth.  My first 13 years of education were in Catholic schools, mostly taught by nuns.  In my own weird way I'm quite religious.  I'm not very spiritual however -- in fact I have almost no faith in God.  It's the ritual that attracts and comforts me.  I've been away from the Church for a while -- the typical lapsed Catholic. There are a number of reasons I've absented myself -- disagreement with RC politics and my own personal choices (marrying after a divorce and outside the Church being chief among them).  Being away and not attending Mass or joining my local parish have been my doing and I mostly don't feel inclined to return.  But right now it's May and the roses are blooming.  There are alters to Mary all around. 

Right now I miss my religion*.