Daddy,
I wanted to shoot you a short email about what happened this morning. I know from your perspective, this probably still doesn't count as a real spanking, but for me it was pretty intense. Since we're taking domestic discipline slowly, I thought you might want my thoughts on this minor step.
A few aspects of the spanking has lingered in my mind since I got in the shower. First, was the symbolic aspect of being over your lap. My developing interest in discipline focuses almost exclusively on over-the-knee Daddy/boy spanking with the hand. This was the first time that all of those symbolic, formal elements of spanking were present. I kept frantically thinking to myself "I'm I'm over Daddy's lap! I'm over Daddy's lap! I'm over Daddy's lap!" You know that I fantasize, and I think a big thrill for me this morning was experiencing the idea/fantasy. For example, I don't think I would have had this same thrill had you paddled me while bent over a chair. All the sexual and mental indicators of discipline were present this morning, and it thrilled and electrified my mind and body.
The second element was the spanking itself. More specifically, the physical aspect of the spanking. Through this, I experienced your strength, Daddy. That may sound strange, but it is actually uncommon to really feel your power. We both love wrestling and joking around, and I get a small sliver of it then. This was different, though. With one hand, you held me down no matter how much I kicked or wiggled. With the other, you administered very specific amounts of pain. You WERE completely, 100% in control of the situation, and I knew it. With every sting on my cheeks, I felt how powerful you were. Every time your hand would pull away, my heart would race with anticipation of the next swat. When would it come? Would it come at all? Would it be the same force as the last swat? Less? Double? And then your palm would strike my cheeks, and I would feel the rush of the sting. I felt this rush with every swat you gave me.
The last aspect of my spanking that really affected me is somewhat difficult to express. I suppose it is related to my first point. Basically, the spanking I received this morning was preceded by months of craving exactly what happened. I have thought about spanking non-stop since we started speaking more seriously on the subject. I know you overheard me spanking myself the other night while I jerked off, just to even get a taste of the feeling. It isn't just that this was a fantasy of mine, but rather that it was a new experience. The last time you spanked me, I was in a completely different mindset. This is the first time experiencing a spanking since I first became interested in it. I don't even have another experience in my life I can compare it to. It isn't like the first time I got fucked, or tied up, or any other sexual interest I have ever had. This came after weeks/months of desperate anticipation, and it made my heart and mind race.
I love you.
ben
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Saturday, July 2, 2011
...a discipline boy
[A guest post from Daddy]
In my experience, there are three categories of men involved in discipline: 1) spanking fetishists who leverage the intimacy, humiliation, and regressive qualities of discipline as a form of erotic foreplay 2) S/m players for whom discipline provides a rubric for the administration and receipt of pain and 3) spankers and spankees who wish to exchange discipline as an historically masculine form of care-taking.
I fall into the last category. The first time I took a boy across my knee, I was a boy myself – no older than 13 – and he was a classmate of mine with whom I would fool around, experiment, fuck and discipline until we graduated high school.
Most of the time, we would take out my parents‘ copy of The Joy of Sex, and choose a page at random; he would take the girl’s role, I the man’s and we would execute whatever the prescription. As the years went on, he formed around me as a submissive bottom and I around him as a dominant top. But there was something different about spanking.
Both sets of our parents were late baby boomers – Dr. Spock enthusiasts who dared not touch their children in an aggressive or angry or “corrective” way. As a result, neither of us had been exposed to spanking as children; we came to it on our own, as two young men in the throws of adolescents. That may seem counterintuitive and it certainly voids any prevailing bullshit about kink players having suffered some sort of trauma in their childhoods. In fact, it is precisely the fact that our parents were hands-off that allowed for such pure and unbiased experimenting when it came to corporal punishment.
The boy (whom we’ll call Jack) was having trouble keeping his act together both at school and at home. Sharing a secret as dangerous as gay sex in the early nineties midwest also meant that we could confide in each other extracurricularly, and, in confidence, he told me that his behaviors and truancy didn’t make him happy. On the contrary, he felt out of control of himself and his situation. Would I help?
I was in love with Jack even – no, even more so – as a flame-hearted teenager. Inflicting pain for pain’s sake made me uncomfortable. What I learned over time was that I didn’t understand what he was asking for. As we experimented, as I went from smacking his butt across an awkward lap to disciplining him, I realized he wasn’t asking for pain, he was asking for attention – and intervention.
The intimacy of spanking – of undressing a young man, exposing him, and bringing him close while exacting precise control of the situation – was a physical turn on. But the experience unlocked a mental turn-on: effecting a transformation of behavior; helping my friend on a fundamental level; seeing him bend, break and rebuild in a form that befitted his goals and aspirations. I wasn’t administering pain for pain’s sake at all. I was in his service.
And from those early experiences with Jack, I wished to be the kind of man sufficiently responsible, intelligent, careful, caring and imposing to set boys alight: there heads, their hearts, and, by extension, their butts.
Being the instrument of change and a rock of stability for guys came naturally and, that is to say, with tremendous work. There were rules to learn, or rather, to develop: To never discipline out of anger or malice; to take the goals of a boy more seriously than he may be willing to; and to fulfill an obligation of regret, to be willing to discipline even when the person you love would prefer it otherwise. Because they’ve asked you to. Because it is your responsibility.
Heavy is the head who wears the crown; heavier still is the heart of the man who swings a paddle. But when a man, your brother, asks you to take him to task, then you must steel yourself against your own protests even more than his. Even though it’s difficult. Even though it’s hot.
When discipline is requested and administered for the real benefits of change, the bond between two men grows deeper and takes on a special color that reveals itself through no other exchange. It is unique, it is enormous, and it is fragile. A boy’s acquiescence is earned by leading an example of a well-discipline life. A top’s hand is earned by the desire for improvement and offering the trust to allow him the privilege of effecting it.
In my experience, there are three categories of men involved in discipline: 1) spanking fetishists who leverage the intimacy, humiliation, and regressive qualities of discipline as a form of erotic foreplay 2) S/m players for whom discipline provides a rubric for the administration and receipt of pain and 3) spankers and spankees who wish to exchange discipline as an historically masculine form of care-taking.
I fall into the last category. The first time I took a boy across my knee, I was a boy myself – no older than 13 – and he was a classmate of mine with whom I would fool around, experiment, fuck and discipline until we graduated high school.
Most of the time, we would take out my parents‘ copy of The Joy of Sex, and choose a page at random; he would take the girl’s role, I the man’s and we would execute whatever the prescription. As the years went on, he formed around me as a submissive bottom and I around him as a dominant top. But there was something different about spanking.
Both sets of our parents were late baby boomers – Dr. Spock enthusiasts who dared not touch their children in an aggressive or angry or “corrective” way. As a result, neither of us had been exposed to spanking as children; we came to it on our own, as two young men in the throws of adolescents. That may seem counterintuitive and it certainly voids any prevailing bullshit about kink players having suffered some sort of trauma in their childhoods. In fact, it is precisely the fact that our parents were hands-off that allowed for such pure and unbiased experimenting when it came to corporal punishment.
The boy (whom we’ll call Jack) was having trouble keeping his act together both at school and at home. Sharing a secret as dangerous as gay sex in the early nineties midwest also meant that we could confide in each other extracurricularly, and, in confidence, he told me that his behaviors and truancy didn’t make him happy. On the contrary, he felt out of control of himself and his situation. Would I help?
I was in love with Jack even – no, even more so – as a flame-hearted teenager. Inflicting pain for pain’s sake made me uncomfortable. What I learned over time was that I didn’t understand what he was asking for. As we experimented, as I went from smacking his butt across an awkward lap to disciplining him, I realized he wasn’t asking for pain, he was asking for attention – and intervention.
The intimacy of spanking – of undressing a young man, exposing him, and bringing him close while exacting precise control of the situation – was a physical turn on. But the experience unlocked a mental turn-on: effecting a transformation of behavior; helping my friend on a fundamental level; seeing him bend, break and rebuild in a form that befitted his goals and aspirations. I wasn’t administering pain for pain’s sake at all. I was in his service.
And from those early experiences with Jack, I wished to be the kind of man sufficiently responsible, intelligent, careful, caring and imposing to set boys alight: there heads, their hearts, and, by extension, their butts.
Being the instrument of change and a rock of stability for guys came naturally and, that is to say, with tremendous work. There were rules to learn, or rather, to develop: To never discipline out of anger or malice; to take the goals of a boy more seriously than he may be willing to; and to fulfill an obligation of regret, to be willing to discipline even when the person you love would prefer it otherwise. Because they’ve asked you to. Because it is your responsibility.
Heavy is the head who wears the crown; heavier still is the heart of the man who swings a paddle. But when a man, your brother, asks you to take him to task, then you must steel yourself against your own protests even more than his. Even though it’s difficult. Even though it’s hot.
When discipline is requested and administered for the real benefits of change, the bond between two men grows deeper and takes on a special color that reveals itself through no other exchange. It is unique, it is enormous, and it is fragile. A boy’s acquiescence is earned by leading an example of a well-discipline life. A top’s hand is earned by the desire for improvement and offering the trust to allow him the privilege of effecting it.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
...a discipline daddy.
Despite my youth, I have always felt my interests were pretty concrete (especially recently). Excluding the occasional stray fantasy, my interests have been fairly consistent over my years of exploration. I thought I learned rather quickly what I like and dislike. So much so, in fact, that I doubted the likelihood of ever being with a man who didn't share my rather specific interests. Part of it is, of course, the folly of youth. However, I also think it stems from how our internet profiles compel us to define and itemize our sexuality. After a while, you just begin to categorize things as likes or dislikes.
For example, I never "liked" discipline. From my perspective, discipline was synonymous with pain. Worse; discipline was nothing but pain. From the few dealings I had with pain and SM, I was fairly certain I wasn't interested in the subject.
It wasn't until I fell in love with Daddy that my understanding began to develop. My education began with our own organic dynamic. In many ways he is naturally a Daddy like figure: compassionate, reassuring, stern, and hard working. The more we saw one another, the more I wanted his help in possessing those traits. And what better way to inspire a boy than with a little tough love?
I remember the first time Daddy showed me a really good discipline video. The young man in the video had recently been bailed out of jail by the film's proprietor. The two had worked together regularly in the past on videos, and the Daddy was clearly very upset with the situation. During the process of an over-the-knee spanking, I was lucky enough to witness something very intense and very real. Both parties were obviously very upset, and I could tell what I saw was really happening for them. Not only was I enthralled, but I was also rock-hard.
I think that's when I started pestering Daddy to have a spanking boy over. We had both kept our online profiles while dating, and I encouraged him to start looking for a boy to discipline in front of me. He eventually had one come over, and their exchange was incredibly erotic. While I wasn't allowed to see, hearing their interaction had me drooling over Daddy. The boy's confession of laziness and sloth, and Daddy's firm demands that he work harder and sort out his shit. When the boy eventually left, the first thing I did was tell Daddy how incredible he is.
Then, about two months ago, I was lucky enough to receive my own behavioral standards. After much begging on my part, Daddy sorted out a schedule of chores for me. It's posted right on the fridge.
As you can see, he keeps me pretty busy. I'm usually pretty great at staying on top of things, and Daddy is pretty good at allowing for extenuating circumstances. However, I haven't been a perfectly good boy. Whether due to laziness or a desire to test Daddy's buttons, I have missed tasks. Usually I get off with a chuckle and a verbal warning, but on one occasion I was put over Daddy's lap. It wasn't "fun", in the traditional sense of the word. Ok, well it wasn't fun in any sense of the word. However, it was... I'm not sure exactly. Hot? Enjoyable? Kinky? I guess not any of those, really. No, it was intense. Intense, emotional, and very intimate. I was kicking and sobbing the whole time, but afterwards I was very grateful for the experience.
Now, I find that my greatest challenge is craving discipline while not wanting to disappoint Daddy. Wish me luck.
Daddy Says:
[I've stayed out of this one, and for good reason: Ben's post this week is an internal monologue describing a transformation he's experienced. While I played a part in effecting that experience, I can't (and therefore won't force) a commentary over it. His experiences and interpretations are his own and they do a great job of untangling the mixed, volatile, and as he said, intense feelings many boys associate with being disciplined by the man they answer to. So, instead of a running commentary, I'll post a response from my perspective in the next few days. -A. ]
For example, I never "liked" discipline. From my perspective, discipline was synonymous with pain. Worse; discipline was nothing but pain. From the few dealings I had with pain and SM, I was fairly certain I wasn't interested in the subject.
It wasn't until I fell in love with Daddy that my understanding began to develop. My education began with our own organic dynamic. In many ways he is naturally a Daddy like figure: compassionate, reassuring, stern, and hard working. The more we saw one another, the more I wanted his help in possessing those traits. And what better way to inspire a boy than with a little tough love?
I remember the first time Daddy showed me a really good discipline video. The young man in the video had recently been bailed out of jail by the film's proprietor. The two had worked together regularly in the past on videos, and the Daddy was clearly very upset with the situation. During the process of an over-the-knee spanking, I was lucky enough to witness something very intense and very real. Both parties were obviously very upset, and I could tell what I saw was really happening for them. Not only was I enthralled, but I was also rock-hard.
I think that's when I started pestering Daddy to have a spanking boy over. We had both kept our online profiles while dating, and I encouraged him to start looking for a boy to discipline in front of me. He eventually had one come over, and their exchange was incredibly erotic. While I wasn't allowed to see, hearing their interaction had me drooling over Daddy. The boy's confession of laziness and sloth, and Daddy's firm demands that he work harder and sort out his shit. When the boy eventually left, the first thing I did was tell Daddy how incredible he is.
Then, about two months ago, I was lucky enough to receive my own behavioral standards. After much begging on my part, Daddy sorted out a schedule of chores for me. It's posted right on the fridge.
As you can see, he keeps me pretty busy. I'm usually pretty great at staying on top of things, and Daddy is pretty good at allowing for extenuating circumstances. However, I haven't been a perfectly good boy. Whether due to laziness or a desire to test Daddy's buttons, I have missed tasks. Usually I get off with a chuckle and a verbal warning, but on one occasion I was put over Daddy's lap. It wasn't "fun", in the traditional sense of the word. Ok, well it wasn't fun in any sense of the word. However, it was... I'm not sure exactly. Hot? Enjoyable? Kinky? I guess not any of those, really. No, it was intense. Intense, emotional, and very intimate. I was kicking and sobbing the whole time, but afterwards I was very grateful for the experience.
Now, I find that my greatest challenge is craving discipline while not wanting to disappoint Daddy. Wish me luck.
Daddy Says:
[I've stayed out of this one, and for good reason: Ben's post this week is an internal monologue describing a transformation he's experienced. While I played a part in effecting that experience, I can't (and therefore won't force) a commentary over it. His experiences and interpretations are his own and they do a great job of untangling the mixed, volatile, and as he said, intense feelings many boys associate with being disciplined by the man they answer to. So, instead of a running commentary, I'll post a response from my perspective in the next few days. -A. ]
Friday, June 17, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Daddy's Boy Ben
I know you have all been wondering where I have been for the past few months. If you hadn't already guessed, a lot has been going on lately. The number one reason I haven't posted in three months is actually just how intense my schedule has been. As someone who has experienced both a liberal arts education and a technical education, I have to say technical is ten times more demanding. Between the extraordinary amount of time I have to put into fashion school and working two jobs on the weekend, I have simply had no time to write.
It wasn't just my schedule that kept me from writing, though. The truth is I have fallen in love with the man of my dreams. Daddy and I started seeing each other about six months ago, and things have just been perfect. We connect intellectually, emotionally, and sexually. He is the most handsome, sexy man I have ever had the privilege of being with, and being with him has made me happier than I have ever been.
I asked him if he'd like to comment on my articles; he said he'd be willing to and so from here out, you'll see his words in brackets [ ].
When we first started seeing each other, we made a conscious decision to take things slow. Not only did we want to avoid getting too serious, we wanted to get to know each other as people before developing a Daddy/boy relationship. In fact, it's only in the past month or so that we have really begun to explore that dynamic. Even right now, one of the main reasons I am writing is this post is because Daddy STRONGLY encouraged me to do so.
[Ben may be prone to hyperbole. I encouraged him to start up writing again for two reasons: 1) He's good at it, and 2) There's a community around leather, rope, sub/Dom, and Dad/son that is self-supporting. By him reaching out, he'll encourage other folks to do the same thing. We've all been kids once, wondering what the heck is wrong with us for having such deviant, thrilling thoughts. I'm proud that Ben's doing his part to reassure everyone that, while deviant and thrilling, they're also perfectly natural.]
I will have a lot more to write about in the coming months. In fact, the newness of this whole relationship will provide me with some really interesting thoughts and feelings to explore. In the meantime, I'll keep doing what I do best: being Daddy's boy. [I'll say.]
It wasn't just my schedule that kept me from writing, though. The truth is I have fallen in love with the man of my dreams. Daddy and I started seeing each other about six months ago, and things have just been perfect. We connect intellectually, emotionally, and sexually. He is the most handsome, sexy man I have ever had the privilege of being with, and being with him has made me happier than I have ever been.
I asked him if he'd like to comment on my articles; he said he'd be willing to and so from here out, you'll see his words in brackets [ ].
When we first started seeing each other, we made a conscious decision to take things slow. Not only did we want to avoid getting too serious, we wanted to get to know each other as people before developing a Daddy/boy relationship. In fact, it's only in the past month or so that we have really begun to explore that dynamic. Even right now, one of the main reasons I am writing is this post is because Daddy STRONGLY encouraged me to do so.
[Ben may be prone to hyperbole. I encouraged him to start up writing again for two reasons: 1) He's good at it, and 2) There's a community around leather, rope, sub/Dom, and Dad/son that is self-supporting. By him reaching out, he'll encourage other folks to do the same thing. We've all been kids once, wondering what the heck is wrong with us for having such deviant, thrilling thoughts. I'm proud that Ben's doing his part to reassure everyone that, while deviant and thrilling, they're also perfectly natural.]
I will have a lot more to write about in the coming months. In fact, the newness of this whole relationship will provide me with some really interesting thoughts and feelings to explore. In the meantime, I'll keep doing what I do best: being Daddy's boy. [I'll say.]
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