Memories of My First Dominant - Post #100

I was catching up on a blog that I follow "Uncle Agony" http://uncle-agony.blogspot.com/2011/07/punishment.html  and got caught up in a post concerning punishment within the D/s relationship.  Oddly enough it got me thinking about my father.  I realize now that he was the first Dominant in my life. 

Dad used corporal punishment only once (and that was a single slap).  He had been beaten as a child and was determined not to go down that road with me and my siblings.  His approach to discipline was very straight forward and very effective.  He set very clear expectations and also let us know very clearly what qualified as an infraction and how disappointed he would be if we had to "go there."  For example, we had to come home on time.  Arriving early was fine.  Being one minute late was as bad as being an hour late.  I lived to hear praise from his lips so I was certainly motivated to avoid incurring his displeasure.

On the rare occasion when an infraction did occur, I was sent to my room, where I waited and wondered how much trouble I was in.  The waiting was awful.  I hated it.  I hated knowing he was disappointed in me.  I would berate my own foolishness and think of how I might redeem myself.

When he'd finally appeared, I'd usually be a wreck and tearful, the apologies rolling off my tongue. He would give me a hug and sit beside me and ask me what I'd do different next time. We rarely had a repeat of an issue.

The flip side of this was I went out of my way to provoke his pleasure.  He valued courage.  I was afraid of heights and deep water, but one day decided I would conquer both by jumping off the high diving board at the local pool.  I didn't know it at the time, but he was watching me climb the ladder.  Years later he told me how terrified I looked.  His was the first face I saw when I climbed out of the pool.  I was so pleased and surprised to see him smiling and clapping that I went straight back and did it a second time. 

He was a Johnny Cash fan so I learned the words to "Boy Named Sue" on the "Live From San Quentin" album before I was nine years old.  I would sing it for him when my sister and I put off little music shows for him and my mom.  I also learned the words to Johnny Horton songs like "The War of 1812" and "North to Alaska".  He loved it when we put off performances and would sit there, beaming at us.  You get the picture.

He was lavish with his praise when we succeeded and offered encouragement to us along the way.  And I always knew he was there for me, whether it was a school issue or an argument with my boyfriend of the time.

His lessons had a lasting impact too.  Even as a young adult home for a visit, I would still ask him what time he wanted me home at night, just like I did as a teenager, because his peace of mind was still more important that what I had planned with my friends.  I can still remember the smile he would give me as I kissed his cheek and whispered my question in his ear.  And I was always (and I mean always) home on time. 

Punishment is something you want to avoid, however you define it.  If you are truly focussed on your Dominant's pleasure or happiness, knowing that you have incurred his/her displeasure is often the worst punishment there is.  I know it was for me.

Unfortunately, my relationship with my father was cut short.  He died just three months shy of my twentieth birthday.  Even though he has not been around for the last twenty-eight years, he will always be one of the most important influences in my life.  And I will always be his little girl.