by LSF Publications
by Jessica Kosciuszko
I hate giving spankings. I love this girl, and causing her pain brings me no pleasure. But in the long run, letting irresponsibility or recklessness go unpunished could be far more painful, for both of us. She's clever, high spirited, energetic, and has no sense of her own limitations, which can be dangerous. So when it became clear that my girl frequently pushed limits, and that reasonable discussion, argument, even - I'm not proud of this - yelling at her were doing nothing to improve her behaviour, I had some serious thinking to do.
I want to do this as seldom as possible. That means her sessions need to make a big impression. She's physically brave, and had her arm reset without shedding a tear (although with tightly gritted teeth) so a cursory smacking would probably annoy her, not correct her. On the other hand, she's a willowy cross country runner, without my upper body strength, and I've been a rugby player my whole life, and still lift weights, so there's no question that through brute force I could pretty easily pin her down and deliver a thrashing that would leave a permanent mark - literally. When I first considered this type of discipline, I did the usual Googling, and learned there are practitioners who believe you haven't taught a lesson until you've broken the skin, with the cane, or the paddle, or whatever else is used. It made me queasy to think of it, much less to imagine those marks on my girl's rounded and tender posterior.
So I won't scar her, or do physical harm to her, but there's no question it has to be painful at the time. I've never told her I'd rather cut off my arm than do damage to her, but I hope she knows it anyway. Still, while she's being punished she probably thinks she'll never sit down again, and that's as it should be.
There is a limit to how much pain I can - or rather will - administer as punishment. This makes it very important that the experience is simply horrible for her, from start to finish, so the exercise is repeated as infrequently as possible, although as often as necessary. Ramping up the pain indefinitely to escalate severity is simply not on the table. One reason why I believe the method I've currently hit upon is effective is that after a settling in period when our current regime was introduced, I find a spanking is called for twice a year, or less. If I had to impose a punishment much more frequently, that would be a pretty good sign it was ineffective.
She hates having a fire lit in her bottom, but I've found some things she hates more. Uncertainty, for one, and the inability to control what's happening; anticipation of something unpleasant; humiliation... I use this to make the whole process of punishment - and it should be a process, not a single, explosive episode - deeply unpleasant for her. She fought it at first, until she learned that when I've determined that she needs discipline, resistance will only prolong and worsen the experience. My girl likes to feel in control, and when she's being punished, the only control she can exert is to comply, and thereby ensure the session isn't extended.
And it's a nuclear option in our household. Beyond that adjustment period, when she still thought there ought to be no consequences, I don't think she's ever had a physical punishment that she didn't, on some level, know she's earned. Sure, she thinks that if she already understands why it was foolish and dangerous, a physical reinforcement isn't necessary, but I don't think she believes, deep down, that it's an injustice, at least not after the fact.
Last weekend, my girl needed a serious punishment. Thursday night, she went to a BBQ at a good friend's. They live nearby, and when she wasn't home by our agreed upon 10pm curfew for a weeknight, I didn't worry unduly; she was probably distracted and lost track of time. Not admirable, but the kind of misstep for which she could take ownership, not something I'd dream of punishing. Nonetheless, I stayed up to wait. She might have decided to walk, a long but doable distance, so I was considering driving the most likely route to see if I could pick her up on the way, when a car pulled up in the driveway. At this point, I was mostly relieved that she wouldn't get home, late and tired, after a long walk, since she had a morning class the next day.
When I went out to greet her, I recognized another neighbour, and friend of ours. I stuck my head down near the driver's side window to thank him as my girl climbed out of the car. I smelled beer. Before I could ask how many drinks he'd had, he backed the car up fast, a guilty look on his face, and clipped the lamppost on the front lawn as he drove off. I turned to confront my girl, but she'd already scampered into the house.
She knew she'd crossed a major line; she was sitting on the couch, hands folded in her lap, staring at the floor.
"How many had he had to drink?" I asked.
"Don't know," she mumbled.
"Do you truly think he'd have passed a breathalyser?"
"Don't know," she again forced out. Well, it was a good sign that she knew this was indefensible. On the other hand, this meant there was no mitigating factor, and I could see the shape my weekend was rapidly taking. My stomach fell. I really hate this. But I don't shirk my duty.
"What were you thinking?"
"It's less than two miles," she whispered, still looking at the floor. "Residential streets. I didn't want to call you for a ride when I was already running late, and I didn't think you'd ever know."
It's good, I told myself, that she knows she's badly in the wrong. Maybe that will justify a measure of less severity.
"You're going to regret that decision," I told her. She looked up at me at last, tears in those pretty amber eyes.
"I already do," she said.
Having a routine makes the punishment as awful as possible for her, without requiring me to resort to brutality. It also makes it easier for me; as soon as it was clear what was necessary, my path was clear too, even if I still had to consider some details of timing and severity. I walked upstairs and got the belt from my closet. It's black, thicker than I'd normally wear, and in the spirit of brutal honesty, too small for my waist, but it was never intended to be an accessory, and I learned, from my research, that I'd have better control with a shorter length of leather. There is a small hook on the wall of the kitchen, right over the dinette where we eat those meals for which we don't have company, and it's normally unnoticeable, but when the belt is hung from it, it's all she can see every time she walks in the room.
Of course, she goes into the kitchen several times a day. It adds to her dread, and also her humiliation; what if someone comes over and notices it? A belt hanging on the wall is pretty unambiguous. The one time this happened, I discreetly slipped it into a kitchen drawer until our surprise guest left. My goal is to shame her, not to destroy her dignity in the eyes of others. But she still must wonder every time she looks at the belt on the wall, not only when she will feel it, but also if someone else will see it. I walked downstairs, and past the living room on my way to the kitchen. If she had any doubt about her fate before, that moment erased it.
Then I returned to the living room, and stood before her.
"You will be disciplined shortly."
This is a carefully chosen phrase. I wanted a formula, something that would send tingles of dread to her stomach and her bottom. It's in the passive voice, because I am not the focus; the consequences are the focus. I like the word discipline, because it refers to teaching, not the mere retaliation of punishment. Ah, and 'shortly' ... I think this is the worst part for her.
'Shortly' means 'not now.' Early on in this new regime, when she realized my mind would not be swayed, she actually asked me to punish her right away. I refused. The wait is one of the worst parts for her, but it's also part of the process. If I spanked her immediately, she'd spend no time contemplating her sins, but move straight from transgression, to squirming, then crying, then howling, to closure, without engaging her intellect. My goal is to engage her bottom as well as, not instead of, her mind.
And 'shortly' is so unspecific. It wouldn't be that night, but she didn't know when it would be. It could be the next day, or the next, or the next, and as it was already Thursday, the weekend would mean long stretches of hours when it could happen, uninterrupted by school or work. I wouldn't leave it longer than that, because I believe the discipline has to be imposed within reasonable proximity to the offence, but I've never told her that, so she must have been wondering how long the wait could stretch.
"Go to bed," I told her abruptly, and unsurprisingly, she complied immediately.
Breakfast the next morning was very quiet. She's told me that in the waiting period she's too nervous to eat, but I never permit her to skip meals for that reason. We ate our usual weekday cereal at the kitchenette, and I noticed she studiously did not look at the belt, which took some doing, as it was exactly in her line of sight. Another man might have found that amusing; I didn't. I won't pretend I dread the session as much as she does, and I have the luxury of knowing - and choosing - the timing, but this gives me no pleasure. I reminded myself that getting in the car with someone who'd been drinking was literally life-threatening, though, and the anger I felt as I thought of her injured, or worse, strengthened my resolve.
She was polite, when she said goodbye and drove to school, and polite at dinner that night.
"I am invited to a movie with Lynn," she said tentatively. She doesn't need to ask permission for routine activities, so the question was really whether the session would be tonight. I suspected she hoped it would be. Part of the punishment is to go through her daily activities despite the knowledge of what awaited her, and I wanted her on tenterhooks, thinking constantly about how painful it would be, and what she'd done to earn it.
"I hope you enjoy it," I said neutrally. It wasn't an instruction to cancel, pending immediate discipline, but there was no reassurance it couldn't happen as soon as she returned. She slumped, confirming my suspicion that she'd like it over with.
My challenge Saturday was to keep the routine as normal as possible, despite her fear, my loathing of my pending duty, and the tension in the house. She had to prepare for school, and I had some yard work to do, so we went about our business. I suggested a farmer's market in the afternoon, and it was a pleasant time, despite her unusually reserved demeanour. While I don't enjoy her fear, I do believe in making the most out of the experience, so I tasked her with putting away our purchases, and then making our dinner, so she would spend the evening in the kitchen.
Not to be reposted, reproduced or distributed, in part or whole.