Crisis of faith

It's almost the end of February and this is the last week for a while that I'll be travelling; which is no bad thing, a little rest will do me good. These past few weeks have been hectic kink wise with only one weekend of 2010 so far being kink free. Not a bad complaint I hear you say, and of course it's not. I honestly wouldn't want it any other way.

Another weekend of play has come to an end and I'm just home and keen to write and reflect before normal life pressures take over. But for now I'm in that lovely bubble of being sated and warm and floaty and want to share cos it nearly didn't work out that way at all!

I turned up at HH's house with very little enthusiasm to play scenes. Lazy in thinking of scenes I wanted to do, feeling a little played out; not hungry for it. And yet still wanting to do and be kinky and take advantage of the return of my pain tolerance.

So we played our first scene: a lazy maid being punished for sloppy work. She had a bad attitude to boot as did Emma Jane. I was in 'don't care mode', projecting through my character that it didn't matter how hard he beat me that it wouldn't get through. That pain was bearable, repentance unnecessary. It was a somewhat odd scene that had little emotional meaning for me but yet was good in other ways.

We talked for a long time afterwards of what had and hadn't worked for us. And me being in somewhat contrary form, I declared I wasn't interested in role play, that it didn't work for me anymore. That 'I' wanted to be beaten, as in 'me' not some role. That I couldn't care less about making up characters and trying to act them out.

HH was of course surprised at this sudden turn of events. My appetite and interest in roleplay and detailed scenes had always been nearly as high as his. And even worse, I couldn't articulate how I really felt, or what was going on with me, but continued to be contrary over it. Or as HH puts it, 'difficult'.

A spanking for 'me' was pronounced; no roleplay. Bare bottomed across his knee I went and a hairbrush applied smartly. I hate hair brushes: they always make me kick and squeal and wriggle. And they're nearly always applied as discipline, making me feel genuinely sorry.

But this time I didn't react at all. All my energy was focused on trying to beat HH. Holding fast and riding out the pain, not moving a muscle or making a sound as he slammed the brush down on my bottom and thighs. He soon stopped: 'Do you really think I'm hitting you as hard as I could?' he enquired. 'I'm not going to beat a reaction out of you. But I want to know why you're being difficult'.

Honestly I didn't know why but I admitted I wasn't being fair. I wanted to play but only on some strange level that I understood and couldn't communicate. We were both confused.

And what do you do with a girl who doesn't like roleplay and only wants to play on a masochistic level that you're not comfortable she really wants or will get anything out of? Such was the conundrum HH was faced with.

So we stepped back, did other things, chilled out, talked, read, blogged. Played with the kinky costumes (HH has a kinky wardrobe for his playmates that is almost as wonderful as his playroom.) And by the time I discovered the cheerleaders outfit that I just had to try on, and HH showed me his new American paddle that begged to be played with, I suddenly wanted to roleplay again. (Yes this was all in the space of a few hours and yes I know I'm contrary!) But this was a character I couldn't resist.

She was Britney and such a sweet girl really. Unfortunately her head had been turned by making the cheerleading team. She missed classes for extra practice, turned in poor homework, flirted with the boys.

The new Dean of Discipline was not prepared to allow cheerleaders get above their station again, the consequences had been disastrous last year. No, this time he'd stamp it out early. And so Britney bounced into his office in her usual lively way and was horrified to learn she was to be paddled as an example to the rest of the squad.

Over a chair she had to bend, her skirt flipped up and her purple knickers offering no protection at all as the paddle slammed into her bottom six times in hard secession. Dean Cook lecturing all the while, that skipping classes and turning in poor assignments was not tolerated, especially from a cheerleader who ought to set an example.

The swats brought tears to her eyes, making her jump up and plead for him to stop. She'd never been in trouble before and couldn't believe that she, a cheerleader, was being paddled. The Dean's plan was certainly working: she would behave herself from now on. Left to stand against the wall she miserably inspected her bottom, aghast at how pink it was.

.

And how embarrassed she was having to perform at the game that night; her bottom still conspicuously pink from her paddling. Still she was a true professional and spun and kicked with all her might regardless. Brave little Britney.

It wasn't a very serious scene, although the paddle certainly hurt. But it reminded me why I do actually like roleplay. How 6 strokes can invoke pain and humiliation far beyond something like 60 strokes just for the sake of it, with no character or roleplay headspace. I enjoyed making a fuss over each stroke and feeling her embarrassment at having to perform with the whole school knowing she'd been paddled. Roleplay gives me freedom that nothing else does.

And we went on to do several other great scenes this weekend (more detail to come). I'm writing this with a very tender bottom indeed! But I feel content again; happy to have played so much, happy that my pain tolerance and interest in kink is at normal levels and happy to be looking forward to a little break from it all and the chance to reflect. But mostly happy that I seem to have gotten over my little crisis of faith, at least for now!