Sunday, March 11, 2012

Just A Quarter

Today, Sir made a simple request of me. It was one that directly benefited neither of us, but needed to be accomplished (feed the cat). I didn’t feel like moving from our comfy cuddly nest of lazy yet. So I whined, and then said, “Yes, sir”.

But I didn’t say it politely. At all.

Sir let me know that just as complying with his instructions is not enough (I must acknowledge them with a “Yes, Sir”) it’s not enough to say it, but say it in a disapproving, impolite manner. Tone is important. Sir informed me that upon my return, I’d be punished.

I was a bit nervous when returning from my task. With just a look from him, I got into my collaring position (face the door, palms up on the wood). Sir removed my sleeping collar, and placed my normal collar upon my neck. Then he asked me to get a quarter.

I wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do with it. I thought I would have to hold it… somewhere. Then he tied my hands behind and to my back, ensuring I couldn’t move them up or down. I started to get nervous, because I couldn’t remember him ever using bondage specifically for a punishment.

He put a pillow next to the dresser and informed me that I was to kneel and use my nose to keep the quarter on this dresser until he said otherwise.

Bah! I thought. This is simple; I’m getting off light. I knelt, and pushed the quarter into the drawer of the dresser using my nose.

Thankfully for me, the tip of my nose does not contain much cartilage, so it flattened out nicely to press the quarter in place.

A quarter. Such a deceptive little thing.

I held it really well for the first few minutes. Then I started to struggle. Either Sir is an evil genius, or the dresser just happened to be set up perfectly for this sort of thing.

On the top of the dresser is a plastic place mat that reaches over the dresser about a centimeter. So now I have a predicament. In order to keep the quarter on the dresser, I have to let this plastic dig itself into my forehead. Also, there was a board near the dresser. One knee was on the board, and one on the floor, so I was constantly just a few inches off-kilter. I couldn’t maintain a constantly stable position.

Sir says I initially lasted about 15 minutes. My legs were starting to shake. I had been informed that if I dropped the quarter I was going to have to start over. Instead of dropping the quarter however, in my efforts to keep it on the dresser I pushed up, and the stupid thing went INTO the freaking drawer.

Lost.

Gone.

I had failed. This made me unduly upset. I leaned back from the dresser with my head down and started to cry. Not only had I done something that required Sir to punish me, I couldn’t even complete the punishment. I couldn’t do what he had asked me. And now I had to start all over.

Sir took note of my pathetic state and in a moment of good grace, told me that I did indeed have to start over, and he wouldn’t go back on his word. But I’d only have to make it 5 more minutes.

I was thankful for that pillow, but I was really starting to hate that stupid plastic placemat. I got back into position. I thought the first 15 minutes seemed like forever, but these additional 5 minutes dragged out. I guess my muscles were already tense. Plus, the tears from my failure were making my nose all slippery and the quarter was starting to slide down, even with additional pressure making that ridiculous place mat dig into my head. I had to try and use my lips to keep the quarter from falling. I honestly thought it was just about to fall when Sir said I was done.

Thank God. If I had to do it again, I probably would have dissolved into a pathetic puddle. Sir had me cuddle with him after and we talked about the punishment. We stopped our conversation to untie my hands – they were itchy and felt like sausages.

I’m trying to use a new method of “Do you like this” – do I want this to stop or continue? Sometimes I’m not sure, but in that moment, I really wanted my hands untied. I was disappointed a little bit, but it is what it is. Sir held me while we talked. I know that it was not respectful to address him that way, even if the words were correct. Their spirit wasn’t in accordance. I can express my feelings, but in a more constructive way. He asked me if I learned my lesson. I try my best not to lie to Sir. So, I said that I didn’t know. It’s 15 months later, and there are two things I still struggle with daily – Saying Sir whenever possible, (I still miss now and then), and not putting my hands in Sir’s hair. I don’t think this will be a constant thing, but the next time he asks me to do something and I don’t want to, I’ll definitely be bringing this experience to mind before I answer.

It’s not the position, per se, though that was not fun. It’s the failure. It really bothers me when I can’t do something Sir asks. Whether its hold a certain position with my hands due to flexibility, or endure something physical, if I can’t comply, it makes me highly upset.

So the next time this happens, I’ll be thinking about the potential of disappointing him before I respond.

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