Note: I haven’t been posting much lately because I’m really struggling with my mental health but hopefully, this is the start of getting back on track. What I’m writing about here took place about a month ago.
I knew Roxy was coming over today and I knew I was going to be punished. I wasn’t sure what to expect from this, as Roxy had never punished me before and I thought it might just be a funishment; I didn’t really think I’d done anything significantly wrong. The morning passed and in the meantime, depression got a hold of me. That past week I’d been up and down, struggling to get out of bed. Now I cursed myself for possibly tainting my afternoon with Roxy but when her train arrived I had composed myself back into a slightly detached, but pleasant self.
We had tea and spend some time in the kitchen, then talked some more on the couch. So much time passed that I wondered if she’d forgotten about punishing me and I didn’t want to bring it up in case it felt like I was forcing it on her. (I mean, I don’t know. Maybe she wasn’t in the mood? It takes effort to dominate someone.)
She turned to me seriously. “You know I need to punish you.”
She told me to get my canes and my rope.
“Canes? I can’t be marked-”
“Feet,” she said.
Judging by her tone and demeanour, I knew the time to be friendly was over and I rushed to get the items from my room.
When I came back Roxy was sitting in my desk chair.
“You can put those down there.” She nodded at the floor. “Yes, take off your clothes.”
I unzipped my trousers, then slid them off in one go together with my panties and socks. My glance shifted between her and the floor. I crossed one arm in front of my body while my left hand squeezed my right one. I felt naked. Watched. Exposed. And realised she was waiting for me to come closer.
I kneeled down in front of her, a nervous smile on my face. I shouldn’t be smiling right now!
She fastened my collar. “Do you know why you’re getting punished?”
I don’t believe I answered.
She said she didn’t like it when I acted like bratty and that there’d been too many instances this had happened as of late. She walked me through them but I didn’t really understand.
“You and I don’t playfight,” she said referring to New Years. In the morning she’d taken the dishes up to me and I’d responded by objecting in front of others. As a result, we had a playfight and since she seemed to enjoy it at the moment and didn’t say anything again about it afterwards I thought no harm of it.
“Do you think this is funny?”
She didn’t sound amused one bit but the corners of my mouth curled upwards. She hit me hard in the face.
“No, no Mistress-”
“I don’t think this…” she started.
“Just my defence-” I sputtered.
I closed my eyes just before her hand smacked my other cheek.
“…is funny at all.”
Tears sprang into my eyes and I felt myself starting to slip.
She hit me again.
“Not one bit,” she said.
She held my face up by squeezing my chin as tears started streaming down. I felt like a leaf that had been trapped on a current that took me to a dark place. My depression had seeped back in and I tried my hardest to stay with Roxy as Mila the slave.
“And I’ve been wondering, why has she been acting out? What happened, because you were so good – didn’t need any correction. And I remembered you asked me during our weekend whether you should kneel and eat dinner on the floor and I thought no, eating together as equals will be a nice gesture. I won’t make that mistake again. Because when you act out in front of other people it makes me look bad.”
“I didn’t know,” I exclaimed defeated. “I’m sorry.”
“And what is this?” She grabbed me by the hair. “How long ago did I tell you to braid your hair every time we would play?”
I felt myself sink to the bottom of the ocean like a heavy rock where the light of the surface slowly started to fade. It’d been too many months- back in June.
“Don’t you think you should have done it by now?”
I momentarily closed my eyes, “Yes, Mistress,” then opened them again. I had to own up to this.
“Lie down on the bed.”
I did as I was told.
She said she was going to put me into a hogtie but the moment between when she said it and when she was done only seemed to last seconds. She had made it so that my hair was pulled back painfully and I felt a slight strain on my neck. Depressive thoughts were battling with my normal self. I wanted to hide my face in the bed sheets but it was too uncomfortable. She left the room briefly.
With the soles of my feet up in the air I thought I knew what was coming. But when she walked back in I suddenly felt something cold on my feet. I flinched, but then immediately tried to keep my feet still. She had put ice on them and I knew I had to keep it there.
“Hopefully, this punishment will help you remember,” she said.
I tried to bury my face in the bed but the hogtie pulled me back by my hair.
After a moment, she took the ice off, then picked up the cane. I clenched my teeth when she hit the soles of my feet and a slight sound still escaped my lips. A second followed. A third, a fourth, a fifth. I curled my toes up in agony, then willed myself to present my feet again to her. I tried to control my breath but the cuts of the cane made it so very difficult. I lost track of time while my mind battled between falling down a depressive spiral and attempting to stay composed enough, by which I mean, not trying to wriggle my way out of this.
She stopped and immediately placed the ice back on my soles. It felt like it cut right through my skin and I had to use all my willpower to keep my feet still. Over the next couple of seconds, I couldn’t decide whether this was more painful or a nice relief and I took a deep breath.
At least she can’t see I’m crying, I thought. I don’t want to burden her with my depression too. Please let this be over. No, you need this punishment. Face it.
She removed the ice and put some sort of cream on the top of my feet. She picked up the cane and this time it hurt even more. Then changed to the thick cane, which I didn’t even think was used for feet and it hurt so much more.
Everything that followed is one big blur in my mind and I completely lost track of time. She repeated the process of caning me, putting the ice back on and caning me again several times. I didn’t really notice during but she told me that she’d put deep heat on the top of my feet and clit to try and play with temperature. The caning both felt like it lasted forever and like it’d only taken a short time.
I could feel myself getting closer to my limit but tried to fight it because I wanted to hold out for as long as she needed me to. It got to a point where after a hit my feet involuntarily moved a little out of the way and I had to really try to present them once more.
Finally, she stopped and mentioned that we’d reached my limit and I was very grateful that she was the one making the call, as I didn’t think I deserved it to be over yet.
While she untied me, I buried my face in the sheets, adamant that she couldn’t see me cry again. It’s over. Stop crying. It’s fine. But my mind was spiralling and the world had collapsed and all I could think about was wanting to die.
She came over and gently observed that I’d been crying. Her demeanour had changed and she sounded like the kind, loving person she usually is. “Oh, and it’s ugly crying,” she joked but I turned my face away and started sobbing again; I fell straight into a breakdown and my thoughts went into overdrive. I want to die. Please make it stop. I can’t be here anymore. Please forget about me. I can’t do this anymore.
My depressive thoughts had nothing to do with her or this punishment.
She didn’t allow me to hide and pulled me in a tight hug I couldn’t escape even though I kept trying. I’m so sorry you have to deal with this. This isn’t your fault. Please compose yourself, Mila. I kept sobbing but I tried to control it with my breathing. She talked to me but I couldn’t answer. And all the while she kept holding me tightly. I worried about how my ugly crying must seem disgusting.
When I managed to compose myself a little I tried to tell her this had simply already been my state of mind and wasn’t the punishment’s fault, but every time I spoke my mind got hijacked again and the whole breakdown started all over.
It didn’t matter to her; she stayed with me and listened to what I needed.
Then at once, I managed to snap out of it and detached. “Would you like some tea?” I said.
She seemed a little surprised, unsure about this quick change for just a split second, then wryly remarked how I had learned just how to be British.
If my mind hadn’t been so clouded by depression, I don’t think I would have felt the way I’ve described here. I would have still been upset with myself for annoying Roxy to the point of needing to be punished, but I believe it would have been far more nuanced. At the same time, it was good that the punishment happened on this specific day, as it forced out all my negative emotions and became cathartic in a way.
In the days afterwards, I thought about why my behaviour as a slave had slipped and concluded that three things had happened. Quite a few months ago, Roxy said to me how being such a good slave can be a little boring. When our dynamic started I was pretty much a perfectly obedient slave, since that’s how I’d previously been trained. Since I associate the dynamic with Philip as something negative, the new notion that being a perfect slave might be boring added to the idea that maybe I should be less of that and allow my cheeky side to come out. In hindsight, that wasn’t what Roxy had intended.
Secondly, I had genuinely been unaware that I’d been annoying Roxy so much. Looking back I can see that she was giving me subtle hints to make that clear but I missed them all (and I’m not a mind reader, after all). I don’t really have any slave friends and the subs I’m close to can be quite bratty so it really didn’t cross my mind it was negative to sometimes act out in front of others. Now that I know, it’s obvious indeed, but a proper conversation about it would have helped me realise this sooner.
Lastly, I wonder if I had maybe semi-unconsciously been acting out on purpose. When Roxy gave me my very first task she also added the threat of punishment if I didn’t complete said task within x amount of time. As I turned out to be so obedient, this was never necessary again but we also didn’t ever establish clear rules in our dynamic. I think I might have felt like it, therefore, didn’t matter as much and that if it did, she should let me know. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to behave like that and should have simply addressed it, but now it has been for us both.
Since this punishment, things have changed for the better and you’ll get to read about it in my future posts.
Disclaimer: the actual conversation (and face slapping) was a lot longer, but it’s quite hard to recount everything! Also, I can’t really claim to remember the exact words Roxy used, but I think I captured the gist of it.