Not an Odalisque

“What A Big Scene You Have!”, “All The Better To Scare You With.”

with 9 comments

What is a girl to do when she doesn’t want a relationship, but does want to be spanked? She’s to sit in rooms of people who like giving spankings, and look hopeful. Or in my case, look shy and concentrate on her knitting. Tonight I’m going, alone, to Club Lash. I’ve spent two evenings sewing my Little Red Riding Hood outfit. What I haven’t done, though, is work out how to talk to strangers. This makes it unlikely that I’ll find my Big Bad Wolf.

I spend a lot of time at the edge of groups. The habit must have formed at school, when to escape the queuing and noise of the dining hall I would take an apple to the library and spend an hour with Tennyson. By the time I left school I could recite the whole of The Lady of Shalott, but hadn’t worked out how to unobtrusively join a table of acquaintances. It turns out that in day to day life, there’s more call for the latter.

If setting down my tray is a challenge, imagine how much more difficult it is to strike up a conversation in a fetish club. “Have you learned this week’s Latin vocab?”doesn’t have an obvious kinky equivalent (or maybe it does. If you think of one, do add it as a comment). Standing in the corner at a kinky party I can feel as alienated as I did on the hockey field. Watching someone insert needles into his girlfriend’s flesh, or instructing an acquaintance to lick her boots, I have as little understanding of their pleasures as I did of the girls clashing sticks in the mud—maybe less. I don’t feel like part of the group. I want to do the grown-up equivalent of retreating to the library and burying myself in Tennyson, but since I accidentally gave up smoking recently, I can’t even do that.

I continue conversations with various people on kinky websites, but very few of them go anywhere and most of them fizzle out in due to business or disgust at my correspondent’s poor spelling and grammar. Very few of them lead to friendships or play.

The result is that my forays into kink have been mostly limited to visits to HH. I may not feel like part of his group, but his group isn’t present, and at his house browsing the library seems to be an acceptable activity. The dark side of getting to know HH has been the appearance of his wider circle in my online life (and the pain and suffering, but judging by the photos and the damage, his hand is getting lighter).* Soon after I mentioned his name on this blog, I found myself mentioned on theirs, their comments on mine, and a host of new, interesting people appearing on my Twitter feed. They are friendly and nice. Recently some of them have advised me on feeling safe when I meet strange men from the internet and comforted me during panics at the prospect of purchasing train tickets. You may be thinking that I should appreciate the way everyone is so warm and welcoming in this online world. I do, but I also feel like a fraud.

What would happen if they met me? This voyeuristic reader of blogs and tweets? There are any number of things they could dislike about me in real life, from pre-caffeine grumpiness to an inability to participate in conversations about popular culture. That troubles me less, though, than them discovering that I’m a wimp. All the time they haven’t seen me, I’m able to maintain the delusion that I’m a bit like them. In the same way that I’m able to feel an indefinable sense of fellowship with other shoppers at the organic, vegan supermarket. “You,” I whisper in my mind, “are like me. You take joy in the vibrant colours of squashes, the meaty firmness of tofu and the scratchy fabric of a fair-trade, organic shopping bag.” Kinksters, I’d like to think, find a pleasure similar to mine in the livid reds of cane stripes and the pale shades of vulnerability. That’s all very nice in theory, but the people at the vegan supermarket have never seen me nip across the road afterwards for a box of eggs, and, with the exception of HH, no one knows quite how much of a wimp I am.

My last punishment was a caning for not buying train tickets in good time (although the logic behind this escapes me). I was shaking as I bent over. I was sweating before the first stroke even landed. When it did, I thought I wouldn’t be able to take the rest. I didn’t think I would even be able to take the next one. The pain and the fear were excruciating. During every second it was happening I wanted it to stop. I begged and pleaded when he had hardly begun. The last shred of my dignity vanished with the first swish of the cane. That evening, I counted five lines across my buttocks. Of a meagre eight strokes, only five had landed with sufficient impact to leave a mark. It was nowhere near as bad as my first caning. With shame, I realised that I had made an inordinate fuss. Do I think I can be braver next time? Hardly.

Other people in the kink world appear to have dignity, bravery, and sensible pain thresholds. They may reasonably, if erroneously, expect the same of me, and are sure to be disappointed. It seems safer to lurk at the edges and look in. Is there a community of kinky wusses? If you meet anyone who likes beating wimpy girls, send them over, I’ll be sitting in the corner, wearing a red cape and reading Mariana.

* In the interests of transparency, I should admit that I’d engaged with the blog and twitter feed of one interesting spanking model HH knows before I met him. A friend I know through spiritual and campaigning groups was following her. I don’t like to think about it.


Written by Not an Odalisque

December 10, 2010 at 2:18 pm

9 Responses

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  1. Dearest N,

    I hope you will have an enjoyable evening, and I also just wanted to say that your blog has inspired a long, long overdue, message at that other site you frequent sometimes…



    December 10, 2010 at 3:36 pm

  2. Dear,

    Can I have an email address via which to write?


    December 10, 2010 at 3:58 pm

  3. I think the concept of ‘wimpiness’ in sex is something that we could all do with challenging. I know some masochists who boast about how much they can take, but really it is all relative and personal and kind of ridiculous.

    The people I have met who go to Lash have been really friendly and I am sure would be able to talk to you about many of the things you are interested in.

    I think you are brave. And that has nothing to do with how many cane marks you have.

    Quiet Riot Girl

    December 10, 2010 at 4:01 pm

  4. Hiya

    Bit worried that having linked to you in our “Best of the kinky rest” seemed to be something “dark” for you. Hope we didn’t upset or scare you by doing so, and sorry if we did!

    I wouldn’t worry what people would think about your tolerance levels for spankings if they were to meet and play with you. Everyone has their own preferences, their own personal reactions to being spanked – there’s no sense of judging anyone badly because they struggle to take a punishment, or because they don’t like large numbers of strokes. In fact, I almost sense the opposite in the scene – if anyone ever gets judged critically, it’s the folks who like to receive harder whackings.


    December 11, 2010 at 8:50 am

  5. At the end of the day you have to play at a level that works for you. For me personally I can fluctuate from crying through a hand-spanking to smiling through a birching. It’s all about context and frame of mind, and it’s never the same for any two scenes.

    The worst thing you can do is compare yourself to how others play. Not easy, I know. But there is always someone who plays ‘harder’. always someone who plays ‘lighter’, always someone who goes ‘deeper’. Don’t think of it like a competition, the only contestant is you.

    I saw your tweet on my judical punishment where you called youself a wimp. What does that achieve? And what does me subjecting myself to that amount of pain achieve? In both cases nothing.

    And in speaking to HH he admis that he is not comfortable with thet level of play that it’s not his kink but he respects my right to indulge occasionally, as long as I don’t put myself out of action for too long.

    Although I have some maschocistic desires where I want to push myself past limits, mostly I am a headspace player, and my main play partners HH and Abel are the same. And when you play in headspace, how much ‘pain’ you can take is not important – it’s just used get to a stage where they can fuck with your mind. No one wants to play with a piece of meat that you can beat all day long and get nothing back from.

    That’s not our kink!

    And I hope you review the idea of meeting us as ‘dark’. Give us a chance, and give yourself a chance 🙂

    Emma Jane

    December 11, 2010 at 10:56 am

  6. Oh dear. I had hoped that saying how lovely you all are (because it’s true!) would temper the representation of a ‘dark side’. That, and having admitted to how useless I am earlier in the piece. I know the reaction I wrote about is irrational and silly, but it’s only part of it. I was actually very pleased to find myself in your ‘Best of the kinky rest’, probably more pleased than any sensible person would be. Having been extra-specially happy about it, I probably opened the possibility of feeling extra-specially mopey about the negative bits.

    This blog must make me seem like a bit of a nutcase. I’m not so openly anxious and overwrought in person. At least, I hope I’m not.

    I’m finding it hard to put my finger on why my wimpiness troubles me so much. I don’t know whether it is about wanting to fit in, or worrying I’m a disappointment, or a latent desire to push myself further. You’re both right, though, worrying about it does no one any good. On reflection, my comment on your judicial punishment scene, EJ, may say more about how much fun most of the scenes you write up sound to me; the severity of that one provided a bit of a jolt. I imagine there’s a valuable lesson about identity and expectation in there for me.

    I’m sorry for expressing myself so confusedly. I seem able to find a reason to be anxious in everything. I’ve appreciated you both; you’ve been friendly, interesting and insightful. That’s a bright and shiny thing.

    Not an Odalisque

    December 11, 2010 at 1:32 pm

  7. No need at all to apologise – was just worried if we’d stressed / worried you by linking!


    December 12, 2010 at 8:47 am

  8. For getting to know kinky people IRL I’ve found my local munch to be indispensable (admiteddly it is how I met The One Who Fucks Me Ragged, so there’s extra bias there). It’s much easier to chat in a munch setting, and then you can find out who’s going to a fetish night in the near future.

    Just an idea.

    PS I suspect that many people love it when they’re caning someone who makes a fuss.

    english thorn

    December 29, 2010 at 8:32 pm

  9. I have never *found* the grown-up equivalent of retreating to the library with my apple and my Tennyson, which is why I almost never go to parties, and never alone. Edge of groups, indeed — like you, I never found the way of moving smoothly from standing outside the circle to being in the circle.

    To be honest, while reading the post above this one, I was thinking that your Riding Hood costume — complete with pastry basket, allowing you to “swap muffins for conversation” — was outstandingly brilliant.


    January 11, 2011 at 6:31 pm

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