My First “Yes” – 10 Minutes in Prayer Pose

 This morning, I spun my punishment wheel. I was still in bed, nude as usual. I sleep naked, partly out of habit, partly because the wheel includes a cold shower., Today, it landed on Prayer Pose. No hesitation. I got out of bed and onto the carpet.

I knelt down, folded my body forward, chest to thighs, forehead to carpet. Arms stretched out ahead, palms flat. I didn’t execute it perfectly, my elbows were slightly bent, and my right hand fidgeted once or twice, but I stayed in it. I stayed still.

The stretch in my back was immediate. Not painful, just constant. A reminder that I was holding something. That I wasn’t meant to be comfortable. I couldn’t see a timer, so I had no clue what minute I was in. I let my mind wander. Why am I doing this? What do I look like right now? That mower is loud. This is just like an MRI. The kind of thoughts that only come when you’re still, exposed, and alone.

My knees weren’t together. I’m not that flexible yet. But I noticed. And I wondered if maybe the punishment weight should shift based on difficulty. That’s how deep the pose got, it had me questioning the math of my own obedience.

When the 10 minutes ended, I got up slowly, carefully. The tension in my back and thighs lingered. And then I saw it, precum. A lot. My limp little penis had been pressed tight between my stomach and thighs the whole time, and it had leaked without touch, without stimulation. Just from being in that pose.

Then came my 8 AM diddling session. I was already slick. I had 90 seconds. Limp. Leaking. Needing nothing. That’s what this punishment gave me, a body that confessed, even after silence.

Next time, I want to do the pose better. Not for reward. For truth. I didn’t just endure this punishment—I submitted to it.