Thursday, 12 April 2012

You'll sit there until you finish, my girl

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).

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