Rules and Discipline

I am still learning about myself as a submissive woman.  I’m still learning about my Sir as a Dominant man.  I’m still learning about BDSM, in general.  So others may have more educated opinions than I do, but here’s what I think I’ve figured out.  I am neither just a bedroom submissive nor a 24/7 submissive.  I’m some sort of hybrid. (Feel free to help me out with a technical term.)

I read this post by A kitten bound by love, and I started thinking – hard.

There are aspects of my life that I easily, willingly, happily handed over control to Sir – when to cum, how to cum, how He wants to be treated, how/when/where/why we scene.  That came easily to me.  When He becomes my growly Sir while we’re talking about other aspects of my life, I purr with happiness.  When He says, “You are not going to take that shit from _____ (fill-in-the-blank, it could be anyone),” I listen and I heed His words.

When I read the post by Kitten (no really, go read it, it’s good), I wondered if I could handle willingly handing over parts of my life to Sir.  Was I strong enough to give away control?  Could I truly submit to Him dictating a portion of my life that has nothing to do with our sexual, romantic relationship?  Would He even want to? Could I accept the eventual discipline that might occur?

My big, bad, gotta-do-it goal is to lose the last 30 lbs – I’ve lost 90 over the course of several years.  And I find myself weakening – I’m an emotional eater, I’m a single mom, I work insane hours – and I know all of these are excuses that I use to get away with eating crap and not working out.  I also know that the only person in my life who I listen to, unquestioningly (for the most part) is my Sir.

To make a long story a little less long, I asked Him for help.  Help me stay on track.  Here’s my goal, here’s what I do, here’s where I fail.  Please help me, Sir.  I worried more about whether I was asking for an element of our relationship that He didn’t even want than I worried about how it would work.  I should have worried about the latter instead of the former.  He immediately agreed, and we talked about what His expectations were.

For the first time, I breathed a sigh of relief.  I handed over control of a piece of my life, agreed to abide by His rules, and immediately stopped worrying about whether I will ever reach my goals.  I know I will.  He won’t let me fail.  I had feelings of guilt, because while I feel like a burden has been lifted from my shoulders, I don’t know if I should have asked Him to take on an additional burden for Himself.  That still bothers me, even now.

Today was the first day.  I ate a healthy breakfast. He reminded me of the rules and His expectations.  And then it happened.  Making my children’s lunch, I snuck a taste of ooey-gooey peanut butter.  I justified it to myself that it was a much smaller taste than I usually took and therefore not that bad.  Because we keep no secrets, I confessed to my Sir.  His response was swift and stern: Corner time tonight for 15 minutes after I put my children to bed.

I immediately began to shake and worry.  The flipside to rules is discipline.  Not only does Sir not believe in using things we find pleasurable as punishment – which I appreciate – He also believes in discipline being onerous enough that no bratty behavior results in an effort to be punished.  He’s a smart man, my Sir.

Corner time is fairly simple and fairly sadistic.  Naked, on my knees, hands behind my head, elbows on the wall, feet off the ground – while kneeling on rice.  The first time He explained corner time, I tried out the position in my room.  And I knew in that moment it wasn’t something I wanted to experience.  Tonight, I know I don’t want to experience it again.

For those brave souls still reading who don’t subscribe to this type of BDSM lifestyle or a D/s lifestyle at all, let me explain something.  Yes, my rational brain (His included) admits, I could pretend to do whatever He tells me and still do what the hell I want.  But this doesn’t work in any way, shape, or form unless we’re honest and true with one another – in good and bad.  I never questioned whether I would accept my punishment – I absolutely would and would make sure he had proof of it.

I spent the afternoon and evening dwelling on corner time and asking questions to make sure I did it right.  Again, this does not work if I don’t commit 100% – anything else and I’m a liar and a poser.  Of which I am neither.  I tucked my children in and let Him know I was making preparations.

I cleared out the corner.  I poured the rice – I put out more than I needed because I didn’t want to cheat myself. (A masochist to the hilt, I guess.)  I sent a picture to my Sir, two in fact.  I stripped out of my clothes,assumed the appropriate position, and started a timer on my phone.

I had hoped that I could zone out for the 15 minutes – accept the pain, stay in position, close my eyes, and be done sooner than I thought.  Wrong.  My back began to arch to save my knees.  When that began to ache, I straightened my back which placed more weight on my knees.  I whimpered, I cried silently, I shook.

My body reacted with confusion.  My nipples hardened at the cool air and the sensation of being nude.  My pussy throbbed and dampened, not realizing the pain would not be followed by pleasure.  My scent filled the corner.  Within moments, my entire body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and soon I began to shake with the exertion of holding the position.  Every twitch, every movement – big or small, resulted in a further jolt of pain to my knees.  I was unable to hide away in some corner of my mind – I stayed in the moment for 15 minutes, unable to escape.

When it was finally over, and I sat back, I looked at my knees, covered in rice.  I thought the torture was over – wrong again.  I began to wipe the rice away from my skin and realized where I placed the most weight.  That was where the rice was embedded in my skin.  I began to cry silently, hating it, knowing it was my own fault that I hurt, wishing for comfort that can’t be given.  As I picked individual grains of rice from my skin, my pussy still didn’t understand that the pain was all there was, that no pleasure would follow this.

I sent my Sir a picture.  His style is such that once the punishment is done, it’s over, we move on.  And my brain knows that and accepts that.  My knees and my bruised, little girl feelings haven’t caught up yet.  When I stood up, the pain intensified as the marks left by the rice touched.  I whimpered and withdrew into myself.  My Sir would probably have talked me through all of this, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask.  My pride, my knees, and some other unnamed part of me felt too bruised in the aftermath.

I learned a lesson today – don’t break the rules.  There is comfort in that.

I learned about myself today – my body reacts to pain one way, and my mind reacts another.

I still love my Sir.  He did what I asked of Him, and knowing Him the way that I do, He will make sure it’s done right.

My submission was reconfirmed today as I purposefully allowed punishment to be administered without a single witness to the event.  Whatever else I am in this life, I am a submissive woman, and He is my Sir.

Addendum: Sir asked me to add this, once my head cleared a little.  I learned a lesson tonight.  I understand discipline more now than ever before.  I know I will not repeat today’s action.  I will seek to avoid punishment now that I know what to expect.  And (to Sir and my dear readers), please know that I am fine.  My knees don’t hurt anymore.  My ego doesn’t hurt anymore.  I am a better submissive now than I was in the seconds before corner time. I am loved.