19th January 2013. Task completed: 01:00
Strip naked. Come ro me. Kneel beside me. Do not speak for 30 minutes, but demonstrate your submission by your quiet and your posture. If you will not be seeing me in the next 24 hours, you have 24 hours from when you next see me to complete the task.
This sounded like such an easy task. I stripped, I went to him, and I knelt. He told me where he wanted me. He stroked me. I fidgeted about. I changed position a dozen times. I sat and gazed. I sat with eyes closed. I dum-de-dummed in my head.
30 minutes passed… and he said I’d completed my task.
That irked me somewhat. I’d barely even tried. I basically sat quietly for 30 minutes. I demonstrated nothing.
So I did the task again. After he had gone to bed, I went to him, naked, and knelt beside him. He laughed at me. But I did it anyway. I told him he mustn’t be so lenient on me, because given an inch, I shall take a mile and keep running. He stroked me, lingering on the places that make me squirm. I tried ever so hard not to move. He read to me, briefly, of Babalon. Of surrendering to experience and sensation. Of whores.
I had to speak once, to ask permission to change position. It’s terribly hard, kneeling for 30 minutes. Or at least, it is for me. My ankles went dead… then came alive with bursts of pain. So I shifted, knelt upright, and returned to my position when I could.
I’m pretty sure he let me off early. And again, I felt a slight disappointment that he seemed to think I had passed. He asked if I wanted to be punished - the answer was truthfully, no. He assured me that there would be greater challenges later.
But I know this is a weakness for me. Discipline. I am terribly undisciplined. There are many aspects of my submission that are drawn from stubborness, sheer bloody mindedness. They have nothing to do with service. And I know this is an area I need to work on. Only… I’m never compelled to work on it myself.
I like - I need - to be broken. To be driven to my knees. To be made to be still, because I shall not by my own volition. Perhaps this task was meant to be about doing something of my own volition. Finding a meditative space. But all I could think was… I should be doing better than this. I *could* do better than this. I have done better than this.
But I suppose, we are all our own harshest critic.
It’s just… the picture of submission is the girl quietly kneeling. Whilst so often, I am the girl quietly seething. There’s no softness in my submission. I sit with jaw set and a hard look in my eye that says, bring it on. If you must. If you really think you can.
For once - just once - I wanted to get it right. Do it softly. Be the girl in the picture.