Recently I have been enjoying reading, and participating in, several F/m blogs. Every once in a while, when I share my experiences and ideas on them, I realize I have some deeper thoughts on a topic and make a note to go into it more fully to my own blog. That’s how I became motivated to discuss what it was like being sent by my wife to another woman for discipline. It has been years since that happened. But my recollections about it are vivid. That and watching as another hubby arrived at our home for the same thing. All told, this occurred maybe 6 or 8 times (me being sent somewhere). Far more often was a man arriving at our place.
I would be negligent if I did not admit right up front that there was a certain “thrill” to the situation. It was kind of like waiting to get on a crazy roller coaster that will terrify you. But at the same time eager for the ride.
The first question is probably “what would cause my wife to initiate that?” usually it was for practical reasons; having to do with her health. But a couple of times she did it just to play with my head. Either way, there was a lot of anxiety and genuine efforts on my part to get her to reverse her decision; which never worked once.
A couple of times I had to hand deliver a sealed envelope upon arrival. That little step was enough to put me right in the frame of mind as standing in the principal’s office in grade school. She always talked with the woman in advance; several times. But the written letter was still nerve wracking.
I can say unequivocally that on every occasion the woman I was sent to took their role seriously. Some were sweet and friendly when I arrived and others were already very stern. But once the discipline time came they brought their “A” game. I suspect that some of them were a little surprised by my, let’s call it lower pain threshold. But they seemed to take it as more of a challenge than a cause for sympathy.
I would hear things like “I think you have been getting away with too much. But not with me Mister.” Or “If you complain once more I am going to get mad and you will be very sorry.” And more like that. My wails and tears made no difference. (A couple of them told me outright that they always thought I could be a bit of a brat and were more than happy to have me under their authority).
I knew pretty much what the guys were getting in the other room when I was at home and someone came over. So it was interesting for me to experience exactly what a stern disciplinary session in their home was like.