HÉLÈNE: SCENES FROM OUR FLR—ADDITIONAL PUNISHMENTS FOR SEVERE INFRACTIONS

As already noted, “I take discipline [of my boyfriend] very seriously in my house, and I think it really helps cement our amorous relationship.” My previous posting discussed, I hope in a way that was not too graphic, certain “consequences for severe infractions.”  I continue that discussion here with additional measures I have taken with boyfriend as part of our discipline routine.

As a punishment, of sorts, I once showed up at his place of work and waited until all his colleagues were present. After a warm greeting I told him what we were doing afterward, and then he turned around to finish up at work. I said, “Hurry it up,” and gave him a firm smack on the bottom right in front of his colleagues and co-workers. He turned bright red, got nervous, but he did hurry up.

He tried, later that day, to ask that I not smack him in public, which really got under my skin. We were in a park, which was busy that time of day. I took this opportunity for a good, old-fashioned public scolding. I shook my finger at him and told him he should have been ready. “If you had not been so disorganized, you would have been out of work by that time, and I would not have to scold you. When you step out of line, there is a consequence, whether that is public or private.” I said it loud enough for people to hear, and he hung his head. He kept his head low all the way back to my house.

Clothes

I hid his clothes at times, when I wanted to remind him who is in control. We have wardrobes here, and mine has a key in it. One night he was being particularly difficult—he wanted to revise one of our rules, and I said no. So he was out of sorts and was trying to get around it. So I took his clothes and put them in my wardrobe. I felt that by keeping his wardrobe locked and holding onto the key, he would start to understand that all things come from me and that he must comply with the rules in order to gain the privileges I allow him.

The next morning he tried to get into his wardrobe and was surprised it would not open. I performed my usual routine and then told him to make me breakfast, not entertaining any question about the clothes. I said I would explain after breakfast. He had to make breakfast naked, and then he begged me to talk about what I had done. It was 8:30 and even though most businesses in Paris start at 10:00, he wanted to get dressed. I told him he would not be getting his clothes back that day, that he needed to be obedient, and I would give them back when I felt he had learned his lesson. He had to call out of work with a lame illness excuse, going red in the face when he stood there naked. I told him to do the chores and I would see how good he was before I let him have his clothes back. When I came home that house was spotless. I also took the keys to the house, so he could not go anywhere.

He did his chores, and for the rest of the week it was up to me if I wanted to unlock the wardrobe, or if he was going to have to spend another day naked. At the end of the week I asked if he wanted the rule revised, and he said, after looking down meekly at his plate, “No.” So there won't be any more of that.

Bed Denial

I sometimes have denied my boyfriend access to any bed at all. One night, after I felt he needed some reminding, I put a pillow and blanket on the floor. When he came into the room he saw them and looked crestfallen. I pointed to the pillow and blanket, and he sighed and asked, “But, why?” I did not answer, I merely kept pointing. This lasted several days before he meekly asked if he could come back to bed. When I explained he had been naughty and had to be punished, he almost started to cry. In his mind he was doing everything he should, but I had different ideas.

This happened last year when he was twenty-three. I don’t ever 'argue' about punishments. They are there, and that's that. This went on several weeks. There were nights when I would see him gazing longingly at the bed, hoping to be let in, or when he would meekly say, at some point during the day while I was cuddling him, “I—I would—when can I come back to bed?” And I would say, “When I feel you’ve learned your lesson.” But he wouldn't beg. I wanted him to beg. I wanted him to be on his knees, literally begging to be let in, but he was trying to be proud. He took it for a long time, some two months, but then finally, after weeks with little sleep and very little energy, he did kneel down and say, “Please, please. I love you, please let me back into bed.”

I did allow him back in his bed, but I keep it as a punishment.