Discipline as Shaping

It was an awakening to understand the difference between discipline and punishment.  I have long known they were different words.  I have long understood the connotations of each word.  I had even come to accept the common usage of these words in the D/s lifestyle.

And then, listening to Sir Dwight speak about the Master's perspective of pain in discipline and in punishment, suddenly I realized the difference between the two.

And then suddenly I realized how erotic seems this word, "discipline"... and what a killjoy seems the word "punishment".

Suddenly the demarcation sizzled its boundary.

I resist punishment.  I do not remember the last time I have ever required "punishment."  I resist the word so strongly in terms of my own character that I outright reject it.  "Someone who strives so honestly," I think to myself, "surely must not be deserving of censure or punishment."  Because I do strive; and I do care; and I do persist in my seeking.  I do wish to please; and I do wish to make sure that the pleasure I bring is meaningful and lasting.  My heart, in other words, is the heart of a submissive giver.  I come to realize this more and more with each passing day and each key learning.

On the other hand, do I require shaping?  Of course I do.  Do I require a firm hand to guide me? Absolutely, I do.  Do I long for the experience and expertise of a strong Dominant to shape me and guide me?  Without a doubt in my mind.  (And would I be turned-on-and-lit like a Christmas tree if that shaping and guiding involved careful and inventive discipline?  God... yes, yes, yes.)

Am I certain that the frenzy of submission that I feel right now needs to dial down a notch or two before I commit to anything long-term, lest I get myself embroiled in a situation that I wish I hadn't?  You bet.   Because each time I enjoy a "eureka" moment I do frenzy-up and start fingering my collar.  I can feel my knees weaken and my mouth watering.  I can feel all the unruly, undisciplined parts of me begin the cartwheeling and hooplah that make me feel so "out of control".

The irony is, I know I am quite capable of reining in my own bridle.  I know that I am composed, integral.  But what I ache for... what I wish for... what this whole thing is about, really, is to have someone who knows me (me...) well enough that he can do it for me, sometimes.   With elan.