Monday, November 2

Getting what I need

As I wrote last week, HH and I had been discussing the idea of real discipline. Not ongoing discipline for everyday life, but me being disciplined for something done in his presence that he didn't approve of. We agreed that he now had my consent to take appropriate action if he had reason to and left it at that. The main thing was that I would not misbehave on purpose or do anything bratty, as that negated the whole idea of being properly disciplined.

Despite having discussed this, when it actually came down to it I was very unprepared for the emotions I felt on finding myself about to be disciplined. I felt stomach churning fear, reluctance to go through with it and a real dread of the pain to come.

Despite having played several scenes built around real life misdeeds, they were all just excuses for a spanking. Varying degrees of heaviness in the scene but all enjoyable and leading to a high afterwards. I'd never thought it through before, but on processing afterwards I realised for me there were two key differences between this, my first proper punishment spanking, and all the other play I've done.

For a start it was unbelievably painful. HH warned me he intended to be harsh and so he was. But I've played very hard before and this was no more than equal to my hardest scenes. The difference in this case was that I didn't fly. There was no adrenalin to get me through. No achievement in surviving, no bravery. Only shame to be in that position and relief when it was over.

And then there were all the emotions that went with it, of knowing I had hurt and disappointed HH to the point where he wanted to properly punish me. That was very hard to deal with.

I'm too ashamed to admit what I actually said to earn the punishment, except to say in giving HH feedback on a recent scene I was overly critical and hurtful in my words, saying something in the emotional heat of the moment purely to score a low blow to upset him.

He said nothing for a long time, just let me cool down and then repeated my words back to me asking was it really necessary to speak to him that way. I was immediately sorry and not because of an imminent punishment, the thought hadn't even entered my head at that point. I was just properly sorry that I had been so awful to HH and was therefore completely ashamed. On accepting my apology we hugged close and we chatted about the scene properly, where I gave my feedback in a more civilised manner.

I couldn't let it go though, my mind whirling over what I'd said. I'm a huge believer in the bottom taking as much responsibility as the top for a scene and here I was making a mockery of that by blaming him unfairly for what was really a minor detail in the scene. Worst of all what I said wasn't even something I believed, so how could I have said it to to him at all.

He hugged me close and for once I was silent, at a loss for anything meaningful to say. Understanding how I was feeling, he finally he told me this was something I should be punished for, as much for me as for him. He had already forgiven me but knew I needed to forgive myself.

Not forcing it, he just let the issue hung in the air, as I digested it. How easy it'd be to say 'no this is far too intense to punish me over, let me wallow in my guilt' but then there was the thought that I deserved it, that I needed it. Eventually I told him I agreed I should be punished.

Feeling sick at the thought, I clung to him, both wanting to get it over with and never wanting it to start. He told me quietly that it would be harsh, that I deserved nothing less and I nodded. I expected that from him. One final reassuring hug before taking me gently by the hand and leading me up the stairs. I followed him like a little lamb, completely subdued.

The dread churned in the pit of my stomach. Over and over I thought 'I'm about to get punished because I deserve it and it's really going to hurt and HH is not happy with me right now.'

Upstairs he placed himself on a very high stool and called me to him. Seeing the heavy hairbrush in his hand it was all I could do not to run away. My least favorite implement by far, so not a surprise that he'd chosen it. It remained unspoken between us that there'd be no safeword. I knew he expected me to take the punishment fully. No tantrums, no storming off, no angry frustration, just acceptance.

Gently he told me he wasn't angry at me but that I needed to realise how hurtful my words could be. And reminded me that once it was over it would all be forgotten, and I could forgive myself.

Then lifted me over his lap, my hands and feet well clear of the ground, and swiftly pulled my knickers down to my knees. The heavy brush rested briefly on my bottom before he slammed it down beginning his assault. I really tried to be brave, to not kick or wriggle, to show him I was sorry, but I couldn't. The brush cracked down hard, over and over and over all across my bottom, along my crease and down the tops of my thighs at an unrelenting pace. Three strokes in I was crying, silent tears at first, eventually giving way to sobs. I clutched his leg in vain trying to take it without begging him to stop until I couldn't help myself and started wailing 'I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...please..'

Finally he stopped and set me down. A short lived hope we might be done, but deep down I knew we weren't. I wasn't anywhere near forgiving myself. I was guided to the corner and given a short respite from my thrashing. He told me to think about why I was being punished and how much my words had hurt him. With that the dam burst and I dissolved into body wracking sobs as the shame and pain in my bottom melted into one.

When he called me back to him I was placed face down over the whipping bench. With terror I noticed the thick tawse in his hands. Of all implements in his armour, HH is scariest with straps and tawses. And he didn't disappoint. His first crack of the tawse made me scream out and reignited fresh sobs, the second was just as hard, burning stripes of pain across my bottom. Again and again they landed as I forced myself to stay down for them.

I have no idea how many he gave me. In between all the searing strokes on my bottom, he landed perfectly aimed low ones across my thighs, knocking the breath from me completely, too painful to even release a scream.

Each stroke was horrendously painful but the ones across my thighs made me beg for mercy. Finally he promised just 3 more, the last landing again so low down, I knelt up rocking from the pain. I prayed we were done.

Pushing my hair back he lifted my face up gently, told me we were nearly there. Just the paddle to go. 6 he said. I wanted to beg and plead that I'd had enough, couldn't take any more, but I knew I had to take all that he prescribed.

Reluctantly I lay down again and braced myself as best I could. But still screamed as the paddle landed full force on my bottom. He wasn't holding back and I didn't expect anything less. Clinging for dear life I struggled through all 6, distinctly remembering that with 3 to go I didn't think I could make it. Then waiting for the final one knowing it would be the worst yet. By the time he'd administered them all, I was almost cried out, heaving dry sobs and almost collapsing with relief at finishing.

He picked me up off the bench and pulled me close. I caught sight of myself in the mirror. The very picture of misery, eyes puffy and red from crying, hair flattened to my head with tears, all dignity absent.

We cuddled for a long time afterwards. My bottom and thighs throbbed painfully but all I felt was relief, catharsis and closure. And a deep and real desire to never have to experience that again. Ever.


Eliane said...

Ouch... hugs from over the water. It sounds as though it was highly unpleasant, but I hope you got the (self) forgiveness and catharsis that you needed from it.

Henry Higgins said...

Thank you so much, EmmaJane. Most of your account is just as I remember it. But there are some details that are different in my memory, so perhaps it's interesting to describe them.

I was quite taken aback by what you said to me, and I remember waiting a very long time before deciding to ask you about it. I think perhaps you'd forgotten the actual words you'd used, because you were quite resistant until I quoted them back to you. But then you were instantly apologetic.

That would have been enough for me. I could tell from the way that you hugged me that you were genuinely sorry, genuinely horrified when you thought about what you'd said. And I told you that that was all I needed, that an apology made everything right. But you went very quiet when I said that, and there was something in the way you held me that told me that you felt differently: that you thought you deserved to be punished, that you needed the catharsis it would bring. And so I changed my mind. I told you that I would punish you after all: and that I did not believe in half-measures, so the punishment would be one that you would remember for a very long time.

Everything else is just as I remember it: the details of the punishment, the way you responded, and the feeling of rightness and completion in the hugs afterwards.

Eric G. said...

I think if you were looking to experience real corporal punishment, that must have been as close as one can get in a consensual situation. All the very difficult feelings of being in serious trouble. The fact you sincerely don't want to go through it again. Bringing you relief, catharsis, and closure is a must, and I also hope it's something you can look back on with good feelings.

Indy said...

Thanks, Emma Jane, for another sensitively described account. Although I don't think I have much of an interest in real life discipline, I must admit I'm extremely intrigued by feelings of catharsis and relief that you describe. The closest I'll ever come is playing a schoolgirl who actually feels bad about what she's done. During the spanking, though, I can't say I've ever found myself actually thinking about what it was I was pretending to have done. That would be interesting, but I might be too stubborn to go there.

catherine said...

Awww, Ems, big hugs.

I've only ever had one proper punishment, where I felt really bad and guilty about what I'd done, and though the punishment itself was nowhere near as severe as yours (just 6 strokes with the strap) I will never forget it because I felt so awful, and was in tears after two. I didn't get the catharsis though, didn't feel absolved - I'm intrigued that you did. Maybe because HH was the one you'd hurt, so his forgiveness allowed you to forgive yourself? I didn't get that, because I was punished for something I'd done to someone else, so while the strapping was totally deserved, mentally it was almost irrelevant because it didn't change what I'd done.

Hmmm, the psyche is a strange thing. Glad you're ok though, and hugs to HH too.


Abel1234 said...

More big hugs... this is such a touching, moving, powerfully-evocative post.


Paul said...

EmmaJane, bravely told, an excellent post.
Real discipline is difficult both for the giver and receiver, specially if there is a real bond.
I'm happy that it worked for you both, but I venture to guess that you won't be looking for another session anytime soon.
Warm hugs,

Haron said...

Aw, you brave girl, you *hug*

Caroline Grey said...

This is so beautifully written that I feel a little ill reading it--just because I can imagine so clearly what you were going through. The shame and the fear. Such powerful emotions.

I'm really happy for you that you got through it so well and got the catharsis at the end. Many hugs to you.

PaulaK said...

Wow Emma !
What an intense post covering what must have been an even more intense punishment session. It sounds really painful both physically and mentally. You seem to feel that it was worth it to find out something deep, and so well done on completing an important event.


Serenity Everton said...


Thanks so much for documenting this for us. Sometimes it is as emotionally cathartic to write about it after as it was to experience it - there were moments in your description where I felt you might be reliving the moment.


MecIrlandais said...

The slow-coach here catching up as usual. Immense writing & sceening, although I doubt that's the correct word, though maybe it is as you had consented to something like this which you didn't want but wanted to try & as you say the bottom takes ownership as much as the top.

Good work! Tremendous but not surprising bravery.