Secure in the knowledge that my own birching had passed, I happily joined HH and Abel in restocking their birching supplies. Whilst out gathered new birch to be used on other (more?) deserving girls Abel also picked up a supply of supple ash switches. In some curiosity I admitted that I'd never been switched before and expressed an interest in trying it. Having just survived a birch rods made of several switches, how bad could one single, if slightly thicker switch be?
That evening I found out.
I was quickly taken out of my relaxed mood when HH started off by using the switching as a teaching opportunity. He carefully showed me two switches of equal length and bade me observe the differences between them. Pointed out how one was completely smooth, with all the buds and thorns removed. Cautioned me that if I was ever sent out to fetch a switch I was to return with one prepared in this way.
The idea and the humiliation of being sent out to prepare my own switch made me feel quite weak and I was 'Yes Sir-ing' without a thought. I also obediently lowered my trousers and panties and bent over the bed in position when told to do so.
Abel took up the switch first and I stood ready, all set to beat the switch just as I had the birch. But to my shock the first stroke was horrendously painful causing me to yelp and jump out of position. The second was no better and provoked the same response. I felt like I was being cut with a knife.
Whether this was because of the earlier birching, or whether the switch was just so whippy or whether Abel was using his full force, I wasn't sure. But I couldn't begin to comprehend how much it hurt. HH took my hands and held me down while I kicked and yelped through a quick succession of strokes. I had taken more than a dozen and tears were already filling when he paused.
HH then took up the switch and used it fractionally lighter, but still causing me to wince and kick. I didn't feel at all brave. Where was that girl gone to? Who was this quaking mess barely 30 strokes in?
I wasn't pleased with myself and when Abel requested that I look at him, I disobeyed and kept my head firmly down. Not wanting to show him how much I was hurting. How much they were getting to me. And herein lies the stark irony of it all: I didn't want this much pain. I wanted them to ease off, but I couldn't communicate this because then they'd think they'd beaten me. My twisted logic of that moment astounds me even now!
Of course the proper thing to do here was to signal to the tops that I was beyond my comfort levels. That I needed a break, or wanted them to back off. But I was angry that the pain was getting to me and defiance made me react in the opposite way.
When Abel told me I'd be punished for disobeying his request I looked him full in the eye and said some very impolite things, about him and his switch. My words may have been bad, but my tone conveyed the utmost level of insolence and hatred.
In response he calmly told me to kneel on the bed and that he was going to make me sorry. That we'd been here before and my insolence wasn't going to be tolerated. It's difficult to make defiant movements when your trousers and panties are twisted round your ankles but in one movement I was on the bed in position conveying the utmost in 'I don't care what you are going to do to me'.
Somewhere in my head a little voice was shouting that this was a very bad idea. A quieter voice was whispering that I was out of line and I should be ashamed of myself. Unfortunately the loud angry thoughts shut them out. I buried my head in the bed and braced myself for the inevitable onslaught.
12 quick strokes rained down. I didn't move or react in anyway. But the pain was horrific and I could feel the switch breaking off with each stroke. Once he stopped I collapsed on the bed and sobbed from the pain.
This time when he asked me to look at him I quickly obeyed and was crying that I was sorry before he could even ask for the apology. And I was sorry. Not just because it hurt so much, but because I truly felt so bad for what I said. And the loud angry voices were silent allowing the voices of reason to break through.
Then I was ordered into position once more and a final 12 hard strokes were applied. Now he had my attention he wanted to drive the lesson home. I cried the whole way through. And when the birch disintegrated completely I didn't feel any sense of achievement this time. Nor was I flying with adrenalin. I felt nothing only shame and pain. Like I had been properly disciplined.
The thing about my discipline kink is that it can't be contrived. I can't act up to be punished; that's just a fun game. Real discipline comes from having done something I absolutely regret, something I'm ashamed of and need to be absolved of.
Real discipline leaves me feeling sorry but forgiven, pulled back from the brink, relieved to have it over with. So I didn't fly afterwards. But I needed and was given cuddles and comfort. Told I was still cared for. Reassured that even when I'm out of control the toppy types still are. That my demons can be beaten back.
Abel and I talked and hugged for a long time afterwards, honestly communicating about what happened. Both of us having no regrets about what had happened, but the same real desire not to have to repeat it. It's a place I've been before with HH and we also talked it over afterwards.
Of course this isn't an experience I could have with just anybody. It takes a hell of a lot of trust in someone before I can let go to that level. Before I can emotionally commit to a scene to the extent I'm beyond safewording. That I can disappear safe in the knowledge that the toppy type will catch me. And it's the same for them - they have to be secure in knowing they can effectively discipline me. That I will take it.
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Below is a before and after of the switch, an implement I've just found I have a whole lot of respect for!
8 comments:
Thank you for writing so intelligently about something which is obviously deeply personal to you.
I always find it fascinating to find how the discipline kink, as opposed to the "spanking" side of things, works for other people.
This is such a beautiful post- almost hauntingly beautiful. Thanks for sharing such an intense scene with such openness.
Intense is right. It's fascinating to get a front-row seat to the workings of your mind in a scene like that.
I know that feeling of being out-of-control, but I've never gone that far in-scene. When I feel that "kill me if you want, I don't care what you do to me, you can't win" feeling creep into a scene I tend to panic and call a halt to the whole thing: "I'm feeling out of control, time out."
For me, so far, that's probably the right and safe choice, (even though it feels icky) but I've always wondered what it would be like to push it through like that.
Fascinating as always, my dear, and beautifully written.
EJ,
I myself have been to that angry place several times.
I know in the shock that follows, it seems it would have been a good idea to safeword, or at least explain to people where you're at.
But, in retrospect, I really think sometimes girls like you and me just need to have it beaten out of them. We need to know that we *can* be very bad girls indeed, and be called on it and made to pay the price and learn our lesson.
There is a tremendous comfort in knowing that you won't be let off. Because if you were, the disappointment would make you so much unhappier than a hard switching.
I'd love to give you a hug -- I know just how you feel, and I wish I could help you work through those feelings and emotions!
brave girl ,love and spanks ,tim xx
Thank you for writing up what was one of the deepest episodes of my spanking like. That it segued from a severe 'scene' into real punishment, in the way it did, was quite unexpected - and incredibly intense.
Yes, I felt you deserved it - *needed* to be punished. And harshly, for it *was* a very severe punishment. But it took a huge amount of deep, mutual trust and respect for us each to know that we could, should, must go there. But I needed those hugs afterwards all the same...
I am a little overwhelmed by the lovely comments on this post. As always I try very hard to explain where my head's at in these types of scenes. But I'm always worried that some of this is unexplainable, or that maybe I'm trying too hard to rationalise and justify what is impossible to rationalise or justify.
So thank you for assuring me you undertstand, it means a lot.
And Abel thank you for trusting me as much as I trust you.
Just a note on the implement. I have always had a feeling that a switch on it's own would be worse than a birch. The concentration of the pain must be much worse, especially for someone like me who hates those thin whippy canes.
I am glad to have confirmation from yourself.
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