Thursday, May 12, 2011

The Longest 17 1/2 Minutes of My Life

First, a disclaimer: This "scene" was part of an arrangement with Craig, the one person who truly sees me. I don't play D/s games lightly or casually. I enjoy playing and getting spanked for silly reasons, including timely bratting, but this deeper stuff isn't a dynamic I look for in most of my spanking encounters. We had the opportunity to play this out at Boardwalk Badness, but it was totally unlike my normal party play. This post is more about my feelings - before, during, and after - rather than a party report.


It has been a very long time since anyone has managed to tell me NO. I was a smart, precocious child with three significantly older siblings. My family jokes that I was a teenager at age three, and I might have acted like one. But I distinctly remember telling my mother, when I was eight, that she could pack her bags, but I wasn't going on that guilt trip. And I proceeded to explain exactly how she was trying to manipulate me into doing the dishes...and why that shit wasn't going to fly with me anymore.

So as I navigate the intricacies of D/s and play with a "disciplinarian" type relationship, there are issues. I can be manipulative and bratty. I cannot be beaten into submission - I like being spanked too much for that. Many iconic punishments get either an eye roll or a "yes, please" from me. We've had our moments, certainly - punishments that didn't work, mind-fucks that have gone horribly wrong. But we talk through them and work things out. This was the first "physical" punishment that worked. And that's a big deal for me.

He gets me.

This punishment was simple - 10 minutes of "special" corner time, he said. I hadn't any idea what that meant, but I can do anything for 10 minutes, right?

Ha.

Even when he described it, it sounded slightly ridiculous. Hold a quarter against the mirror with my nose and a credit card between my knees. By the time he settled on the bed to relax and watch me, he set the timer for 9 minutes.

As you might have guessed from the title, after 7 1/2 minutes, I lost it. I dropped the quarter. I don't know what happened, but the quarter fell to the floor.

Back in position, the timer started over. This time, he insisted I stop looking at him in the mirror "for comfort." How the hell did he know that's exactly what I was doing? Nevermind...he gets me.

With less than three minutes left, the quarter started to slip. I was sure I was going to drop it again. And equally sure that this wasn't going to get any easier. He talked me through it.

Seventeen and a half minutes. I was sobbing and shaking harder than I do after the harshest scene. He held me, reassured me. I was his good girl again - an incredibly powerful thing for me.

Would someone tell him to simply beat me next time? Please?

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