I always thought RL discipline was such a hot idea and I fantasised about it being a part of my life. Then I experienced it. And of course reality can’t compete with fantasy. At various times I’ve felt absolved, conflicted, ambivalent, resentful and turned on by RL discipline. I’ve never quite been able to reconcile my feelings about it. Then Mija invited me to join this blog. At first I declined because RL discipline hasn’t really been a part of my life lately. I mentioned this to my partner. He raised his eyebrows and said, ‘Oh? Isn’t it?’ Well, fair enough.
We’re basically roleplayers. Obsessive roleplayers. We have a stable of different personae, some recurring, some one-offs. Which brings me to a favourite phrase: blurring the lines. One of the ways we’ve circumvented my resentment of RL punishment in the past is through roleplay. By way of introduction I’ll share one of those stories.
(BTW, I’m Tasha. I’m in my early 30s and I’ve been writing CP fiction for nearly 10 years, ever since I realised what it was I was into. I live in a draughty old house in England, where I live out most of my fantasies with my partner, who I’ll discreetly and cryptically call Q.)
I write a Victorian series called ‘My Fair Young Lady,’ about Colette, an uneducated East London girl sold into service. I sometimes use my personae outside of scenes and Colette is helpful when it comes to household chores. I don’t actually wear my parlour maid uniform to clean, but it’s fun to imagine that I am. It makes me that little bit more diligent, I suppose. And if I can think of it as roleplay, the job is less tedious.
Well, one day I was cleaning the kitchen and I dropped a stack of plates. Yes, a *stack.* Horrified, I stared at the debris for a long time, not knowing what to do. I had been careless and I knew it was a punishable offence. I was nervous. But then I had the idea of blaming it on Colette. So I screwed up my courage and called Q at work. While he wasn’t pleased, he wasn’t really angry either, since it was an honest mistake. He told me we could build it into a roleplay, since Colette was certainly the one most likely to have had an accident like that.
Being dealt with as Colette for a real mistake was very edgy. It plunged me deeper into her headspace than I’ve ever been. It was intense. He had me arrange the broken plates on the dining room table and then he had me fetch the cane. He had me bend over the table so that I was staring at the plates. Then he caned me – one stroke for each plate. And they were *hard.*
The accident with the plates was too serious just to let pass, but not so serious as to be without play potential. We agreed we’d never see a better chance to blur the lines like that and do such a cool Colette scene.
A few weeks later, I broke the full-length mirror in the door of the antique wardrobe. But that’s another story.