My character was an inmate at the state penitentiary. She wasn't even worthy of a name. The wardens relish abusing their power, meting out a harsh discipline regime to all the girls. Our poor girl is reporting for her first after hours punishment at the hands of the warden. She's young and timid, wholly unprepared for prison life. The warden suspects he's going to have a lot of fun with her, and of course intends to teach her the error of her ways in the process.
When he orders her to take all her clothes off she's too scared to utter any protest. Once she's naked and cowering before him he leans in closer until she's backed against the cold hard wall. There's nowhere else to go and he delights in her terror. Threatening her with awful consequences for misbehaviour. Taking great time and care in inspecting her body. Laughing as she flinches from his touch but not daring to complain.
She seems obedient but he can't be certain she'll stay still once the whipping starts. As a precaution he ties her on her back on the narrow iron bed frame. Positioning her with her hands and legs spreadeagled, he exposes her cruelly, enjoying her humiliation.
It's cold in the punishment room and it's not long before she starts to shiver. Wincing as the bed springs dig into her back she squirms against the ropes that bind her, but to no avail, he has secured her tightly. She's never had her legs tied before and she's feeling claustrophobic.
Genuinely scared of what's going to happen she looks at him in despair, but finds no hope in his face. As the whipping starts her helplessness is complete. There is no escape, only endurance. She looks to the ceiling and finds a tiny spot of light above her; her focus for the rest of the punishment. One spot of light to block out what's happening. One spot of hope she'll get to leave this place some day.
The pain and humiliation melt into one, never-ending blur. She starts to shake, her teeth chattering loudly. From the cold? From the fear? From the abject humiliation of what she is enduring? From the realisation she is here because she deserves to be?
Then the tears start, quickly turning into body wracking sobs as she wordlessly submits to him. Crying out her misery, washing away every bad thing.
I was so deep and miserable during this scene that at one point HH came out of character to say he wasn't going to continue, as he thought I was in a bad place. Quickly reassuring him I was 'fine' we continued for another few minutes until the scene came to a more natural conclusion. The ease with which I broke off from sobbing, to speech and back to sobbing surprised even me. On reflection afterwards I thought perhaps I wasn't as deep into role as was we'd assumed.
As we cuddled and chatted afterwards, (it was a full hour before I warmed up and stopped shaking) he told me that he had never seen me so miserable before. Scared, humiliated, in pain: yes he had seen all those things, but never such deep and intense misery. Nor was he certain he was comfortable that he was controlling the scene and invoking that misery and despair.
I told him honestly that I had never given way completely to such despair before and had found it an unbelievably liberating thing to do. To cry my whole heart and self out, with no need to stop. No worry that it was inappropriate, no concern that I was upsetting someone else. Just utter selfish emotional venting for all those times I'd bottled it up.
For me it had been a pure indulgence.
6 comments:
I feel reluctant to comment on this, as I've never experienced a scene remotely like it. But it makes me think of the way that scenes can at times act as a kind of poultice, drawing to the surface things we may not have known were there, things that may require expression--or expulsion--somehow.
EmmaJane, sometime that sort of catharsis is utterly necessary and healing.
Warm hugs,
Paul.
I see where you're coming from, but for me, having that kind of reaction "in role" would scare me. This may sound weird, but I would rather experience that intensity as me. On the other hand, I also get that being able to get that deep and that miserable in role allows you a release that you maybe can't allow yourself as you.
It was indeed a very powerful scene.
As you say, I found it quite scary myself. Usually, even if you're in a very deep headspace, I feel that I have control over what you're feeling: that I can choose when to lighten up and when to send you deeper. This time I felt there was something unexpected surfacing, and I wasn't sure that I understood it well enough to control it. That's why I dropped out of scene to check that you were OK, and was very reassured when you said you were.
Hugs,
HH
@Casey, poultice is exactly right! That's what it felt like, an excuse to cry and let go without having any personal miserable experiece actually happening to me.
@Paul, thanks :)
@Eliane, I could never let myself go like that so it has to start in role at least. I'm too conscious of it being such an indulgence to let myself give way to it in front of others, within the safety of others. But once roleplay starts I can let go. Even if I really think I wasn't that deep in role here, it was just the cover I needed. Looking back I was cold, I was scared, I was claustraphobic about the ropes on my legs and I wanted to cry like that. I just needed an excuse.
@HH I think you were right to check, you know me so well in play and I need you to watch out in these situations as I can't do it myself. Hugs back :)
Wow, this is amazingly intense. And thinking of you so 'miserable' makes me want to send you huge tight hugs. Thank goodness you were with such an experienced and trustworthy play partner whilst experiencing feelings like this in a scene: I guess a lesser top would have been seriously freaked out, and that wouldn't have been what you needed at all in that state.
Hugs xx
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