Welcome to letter Q of the spanking challenge.
This is a tricky one isn’t it. I could call it quits. I’ve done most of the month, but I’m stubborn girl, so I’ll keep going.
Everyone has the right to quit and in the context of BDSM this can be a brief withdrawal or full, walk away and don’t look back. The usual way to withdraw in a scene is to give a safeword. This is typically associated with the submissive or bottom, but the Dom also has the right to withdraw if they feel the scene isn’t going well or puts them in a difficult position. Some might if they believe they are being topped from below, in other words, they’re not in control, or maybe they recognise the sub isn’t right for them.
Safewords are there as a safety net and can halt a scene instantly.
It’s a common tool in writing BDSM books to create tension to have the sub call out a safeword. Then, things must be resolved before the relationship can progress.
Jeremy is spanking my stiffening rear and it hurts badly. Tears sting my eyes and I blink them away, trying desperately to rediscover my lost subspace. It’s too far gone. Oliver and his companion are occupying my mind. I bite back a cry, kicking my legs back. The paddle smacks and the fire it generates in my heated arse is too intense. My tolerance is slipping away. Jeremy isn’t spanking me harder, it’s me who’s crumbling. I let out sob, a juddering sob.
I can’t do this anymore. The realisation sinks in. It’s not the same; the emotions, the pain isn’t giving birth to pleasure. The erotic nature of this spanking dies away in the blink of my wet eyelashes and is replaced with a sense of indignity.
“Stop,” I bleat. “Braces, I mean red. Red fucking braces,” I call out.
Jeremy is crouching next to my head. “Meg?” He holds my face up, nestling it in his hands. “What’s wrong?” He looks concerned, confused. I don’t blame him. I’d called out my safeword rather abruptly.
He helps me up and Alan comes over. He’ll want to know why I used my safeword and assess if Jeremy conducted the scene correctly. Alan is fussy about safety.
I brush off his questions. “I’m fine. Just one of those times it doesn’t feel right,” I explain. Somebody brings me a blanket and Jeremy drapes it over my shoulders, holding me to his chest. I glance over to the wall, but Oliver has gone. I can’t see him.
It feels like a spotlight is on me, shining bright and I want out. “Take me home,” I say to Jeremy.
He looks alarmed now. I might have just flaked out of a scene, but quitting the whole evening implies something is seriously wrong, which it is, but I don’t want Jeremy to take the blame, it’s nothing to do with him. “I’m not feeling good. Nothing to do with your spanking.”
“Sure?” queries Alan.
“Sure,” I repeat.
Jeremy hands me my clothes and I quickly slip my skirt and top back on. My bottom is sore and normally the sensation would be pleasing; this evening, it isn’t. It’s an unwelcome reminder of my inability to complete the scene. As Jeremy walks me back to his car, I sense his despondency and it mirrors my own.
I settle carefully on the cool leather and for a while he drives in silence. “I’m not happy about simply dropping you off and driving away,” he says, switching his headlights onto full beam. The evening light has long faded. I hadn’t been aware of how much time we’d spent in the windowless barn.
I scrunch my hands together in my lap. “I want to explain.”
– Taken from Mastering Meg
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