Well, I asked to be remotely disciplined and I was! Last night I changed into my school uniform (Guide’s honour) and completed two writing exercises as instructed: a thousand word essay entitled ‘Why poor manners and disrespect are never acceptable’ and a list of ‘ten better ways to express my disappointment than by pouting’.
The essay (set by OldFashionedGirl) took me a few hours, but I did it! (I really hit a wall at about four hundred words, but I made like the itsy bitsy spider and kept going). Writing it was a really satisfying experience, in a lot of different ways. For a start I enjoy the academic writing process generally: thinking round a subject; formulating an argument and articulating it; reworking and polishing the text to the best of my ability. And even though it was genuinely hard to keep going at times (partly, I imagine, because I don’t usually write essays in one sitting), I felt really great, just wonderful throughout. It was satisfying when the text flowed, and it was (in a different way) when it didn’t. These latter phases felt just as I had hoped they might: I really felt like a naughty schoolgirl beavering away at a task set as a punishment, and the prospect of further punishment should I fail to complete it felt thrillingly real.
I’d go so far as to say that the experience felt like a kind of kinky meditation; a journey into an immersive state or an alternate reality. (One that really pushes my buttons). I know that this feeling is one central to the BDSM experience, but there’s something unique about placing oneself in a solo situation where the focus isn’t on physical chastisement: I guess it’s like exploring a gentle dimension of one’s submissive personality, and the whole thing just really resonates with me.
I think the fact that I was wearing my school uniform contributed to this sensation, as did my slight discomfort – the hard chair I sat on got very uncomfortable after a while, but worse was sitting on my own hairbrush as instructed (I managed a few minutes on it, albeit with my skirt back down: I hope that’s okay, RR!) – but I think the most significant factors were the sheer length of the task (I know I didn’t have to, but I opted to sit in silence, as if I were in a classroom for detention) and the fact that I had been instructed to complete it. Yum!
Aunty Andrea commented on my original post that groundings are no fun, and that she’d prefer a spanking any day. I can totally understand where she’s coming from with that sentiment, but I have to say I find the sheer un-funness of a grounding fun: it’s hard to describe, but I love the feeling. I guess a comparable experience is that of doing chores as a maid, or any other sub-type figure. The pleasure of the mundane (or something). I’m sure a reader can put it better than I ever could.
Oh, and I was sorely tempted to fill the essay with deliberate grammatical errors as I had been warned that I would get two strokes of the senior cane for each mistake... but I resisted. I’m just too much of a swot. There may well be a few in there, but they’re not deliberate!
Anyway, I’ll stop babbling now and present my essay to Miss for marking. (See the next post).
The essay (set by OldFashionedGirl) took me a few hours, but I did it! (I really hit a wall at about four hundred words, but I made like the itsy bitsy spider and kept going). Writing it was a really satisfying experience, in a lot of different ways. For a start I enjoy the academic writing process generally: thinking round a subject; formulating an argument and articulating it; reworking and polishing the text to the best of my ability. And even though it was genuinely hard to keep going at times (partly, I imagine, because I don’t usually write essays in one sitting), I felt really great, just wonderful throughout. It was satisfying when the text flowed, and it was (in a different way) when it didn’t. These latter phases felt just as I had hoped they might: I really felt like a naughty schoolgirl beavering away at a task set as a punishment, and the prospect of further punishment should I fail to complete it felt thrillingly real.
I’d go so far as to say that the experience felt like a kind of kinky meditation; a journey into an immersive state or an alternate reality. (One that really pushes my buttons). I know that this feeling is one central to the BDSM experience, but there’s something unique about placing oneself in a solo situation where the focus isn’t on physical chastisement: I guess it’s like exploring a gentle dimension of one’s submissive personality, and the whole thing just really resonates with me.
I think the fact that I was wearing my school uniform contributed to this sensation, as did my slight discomfort – the hard chair I sat on got very uncomfortable after a while, but worse was sitting on my own hairbrush as instructed (I managed a few minutes on it, albeit with my skirt back down: I hope that’s okay, RR!) – but I think the most significant factors were the sheer length of the task (I know I didn’t have to, but I opted to sit in silence, as if I were in a classroom for detention) and the fact that I had been instructed to complete it. Yum!
Aunty Andrea commented on my original post that groundings are no fun, and that she’d prefer a spanking any day. I can totally understand where she’s coming from with that sentiment, but I have to say I find the sheer un-funness of a grounding fun: it’s hard to describe, but I love the feeling. I guess a comparable experience is that of doing chores as a maid, or any other sub-type figure. The pleasure of the mundane (or something). I’m sure a reader can put it better than I ever could.
Oh, and I was sorely tempted to fill the essay with deliberate grammatical errors as I had been warned that I would get two strokes of the senior cane for each mistake... but I resisted. I’m just too much of a swot. There may well be a few in there, but they’re not deliberate!
Anyway, I’ll stop babbling now and present my essay to Miss for marking. (See the next post).
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