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assignments and punishments
My darling, silly angel.
Right now, you're rattling around the kitchen, making lunch for us and enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon with me. But I'm sitting here thinking about another time, an evening we had together.
You'd forgotten to do an assignment for me, and you had to be punished for it. I didn't want to punish you, darling. I don't like it when I have to correct your behaviour, but you'd failed to complete your second assignement in a row. I gave you a pass on the first one, because you *have* been really busy at work for a while now. But when you didn't do the writing I'd told you to do, I knew that I had to get you back in line.
I remember how your face looked when I asked you if your assignment was done. How your eyes dropped to look in my lap, instead of looking at my face. How your entire body tensed, like you were waiting for me to be angry or yell. But I would never yell at you, angel. No, I was not angry, I was disappointed.
You may be surprised, angel, that I was disappointed in myself. Had I not made it clear that I expected you to do the assignment before I arrived that night? Did I give you the impression that I didn't have to be listened to? Did you think I just liked all the kinky things we did in the bedroom? These thoughts and more went through my mind, as I told you what your punishment was to be.
That downcast look on your face as you went to your punishment was a reproach to me. I had to make sure you kept your promises to me, and I had to make sure you remembered the consequences for forgetting. That's one of the wonderful things about our relationship. The clarity.
We both know who's in charge. Me. I have permission, even an obligation, to decide things for both of us. I don't have to dance around, wondering if you'll get pissed for me being decisive. You don't have to wonder what I'll think of you for giving in. You don't have to wonder if you've gone too far, because you know that I'll emphatically show you when you do. You have the same permission/obligation to submit as I have to dominate. I will make you do what pleases me. You get to do things that you'd never let yourself do to a vanilla boyfriend. (Things that you've always fantasized about, right angel? Things that have kept you awake, long into the night. Things that society and feminists say you shouldn't want.) There's a clarity in our relationship that I treasure. It simplifies so much, and it allows us to step past the politeness, past the dance of social norms, and get right to a deeper, more honest intimacy.
And I wasn't doing it right.
So, angel, when I bent you over the bed, I was actually trying to make up to you. When I used the crop on you, and made you cry out in pain, I was in pain too. When I held you afterwards, and let you feel sad, I felt sad, and protective, and close to you.
And when it was done, it was done and gone. There was no lingering resentment. There were no muttered comments expressing my frustration with you. I know that you wanted to please me. I know that you were unhappy with yourself. And I know that I forgave you. I hope that you forgave yourself, angel.
That's why I'm writing this, I guess. To tell you what I've been thinking about that night. I promise to not let you down, angel. I will keep you safe, I will keep guiding you, and I will keep pushing you toward being the person you want to be. That's my role. That's my obligation. That's my joy.
posted at 03:03 PM ::
filed under events
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