Me: Ladybae, I am pure and chaste.
Ladybae: Mhm
Ladybae: Right
Ladybae: True
Me: Ladybae.
Me: I’m a virginal unicorn maiden.
Me: And don’t you forget it.
Ladybae: Switchette.
Ladybae, quoting a previous text I’d sent: “But they’d also just watched me pussy spank myself to orgasm under very generous lighting, so”
Ladybae: K.
Me: *is a down and dirty chimera of nastiness*
Of course, he’s “punished” me before, and I know I’m behind on most of the stories of spankings, denial, etc, but this was the first serious punishment. Our dynamic has gotten to a place where he’s gotten the go-ahead from me to do stuff like this, but it still hit kind of hard.
Yesterday, I’d been pushing myself really hard to get a bunch of stuff done, because Sir said if I was very good I would be able to tr out the new vibrator I bought. And, I’d done it, and I was at Pup’s place and was looking forward to that. But, I’d been goofing around, and he told me if I pushed it one more time, I would be in trouble. And, well, I pushed it.
I apologized right away, but it had ben done. “I told you if you misbehaved again you’d be in trouble,” Pup said. “You’re sleeping on the floor and you don’t get the vibrator tonight.”
“No, but,” I pouted. “But I got all my work done. And I was such a good girl today. And I said I was sorry.”
Pup agreed that I was a good girl that day, and so I earned my spot in the bed. But I wasn’t getting the vibrator and I was still being punished, which meant he gave me a talk about why I had been bad and that he expected me not to behave that way again.
While he was talking, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I got little, which was a little uncomfortable for me since that isn’t our dynamic. I wanted to cry because this was new and vulnerable and I was caught in that weird space of wanting it and hating it and being glad it was happening but also dreading the whole thing and what it implied. I went back to the first time I was punished like this – in the serious way that feels like punishment – when Elle made me hold my iPod up against my bedroom wall with my nose for five minutes. It had been so long, so unsexy that it shocked me, and the fact that the effect was a genuine punishment had made me cry that night five years ago, because I was I was alarmed that our dynamic had suddenly shifted out of playfulness and into something with consequences.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” I said. “I won’t do it again.” I couldn’t stop fidgeting with my skirt. At first, he mistook my behavior for being insincere, playful, and I realize he’d never seen me be contrite in this context.
I told Sir what happened and why I wasn’t using my vibrator tonight, and he agreed that I had been a bad girl and that Pup was doing the right thing in punishing me. So there’s the downside of two doms, I realized: getting scolded twice over when I was being punished.
He had me change and get into bed with him so he could hold me. He let me talk about how I felt, and stroked my hair and told me I could cry if I wanted. “You know I’m not really angry with you. I’m punishing you, that’s all. And it’s okay and tomorrow you won’t be punished anymore. And if it’s too much today, you can turn it off. We don’t have to do this. You have the power to make this stop,” he assured me, but I told him I wanted this, and I knew that was true.
“Will you slap me, then?” I asked.
He brushed my hair from my face. “How do you ask for that?”
I averted my eyes. “Will you please slap me, Sir?”
He did, and let me suck his cock for a bit after. I made a joke about how he was already hard when I pulled him out of his pants, trying to grasp some sense of power or something in being playful that way, but it was so clearly a move for that. I felt so vulnerable – moving into this territory of our dynamic, being in that sad little punishment head – and weirdly it all made me pretty aroused.
But, when I asked him to fuck me, he refused. I huffed, and he told me I could touch myself. I rolled onto my back, sulking, with his arm still around me. As I rubbed my clit, he teased his fingers idly over my nipples. When I argued that it wasn’t fair, he told me I should try to sleep. My head was everywhere and I would feel better in the morning, he suggested, and I knew he was right.
“You’re going to break me, you know,” I said. “if you keep at stuff like this.”
He put an arm around my waist and pulled me to him. “Go to sleep.”
The fact that a man tweeted what is captured below to Janelle Monáe once again reveals how some men really do not listen to women.
Many men, in general, cannot conceive of women existing for a purpose that is not male consumption, and in the case of Janelle Monáe, many Black men, specifically, really have no idea who she is. No matter how many times Black women have said that Janelle does not dress how she dresses to be “respectable” for Black men (nor to be used as a tool of respectability for misogynoir against other Black women not deemed “respectable”) nor does she dress how she dresses to make them thirst for her “hidden” sexiness, some ignore that message. Worse, they seem to ignore the things that she actually says about herself.
Janelle Monáe on why she dresses the way she does (especially in reference to when she wore tuxes quite a bit):
When I started my musical career I was a maid, I used to clean houses and the girls I used to clean houses with used to always beg me to sing while we cleaned. I lived in a boarding house with five other girls and I would sell my $5 CD out of my room. My mother was a proud janitor, my step-father who raised me worked at the post office, and my father was a trash man. They all wore a uniform and that’s why I wear my uniform to honor them. I have work to do. I have people to uplift. I have people to inspire. And today I wear my uniform proudly.
My goal has always been to redefine what it means to be a woman, especially a Black woman, and when I did come into the industry, I didn’t see people dressing this way and I felt as though there was going to be some some pressure to look like somebody else. And, I’m into fashion and I just think the tuxedo is cool; it also is paying homage to the working class. My mother, her last occupation, she was a janitor. And my father worked at the Post Office. So I like to pay homage to them and continue on that legacy to help the community, through music. And so it just keeps me humbled, it keeps me grounded. But my goal is never to dress up because I don’t want to show skin but it is to say I’m in control of my body. And as women I think we should be in control of our body, whether we’re naked or whatever. But let that be your decision, not, ‘these are the standards, you are a woman, you need to do this.’
And the “too damn soulful” comment in that tweet? That’s that binary reference to the idea that “soulful” Black women exist to be “respectable” and “sexy” Black women exist to be “non-respectable” and clearly binary thinkers experience conflict when these lines aren’t treaded in a way they are used to consuming. This is something that I discussed in Respectability Politics ≠ Womanism/Black Feminism since Black men are not the only ones who confuse respectability politics for radical ones; some Black women do as well. (This same binary is used against Solange [”soulful”] and Beyoncé [”sexy”], for example.) Yeah, he apologized (for which I have zero cookies or awards to give; that low bar is not of interest to me, I’ll leave that to people who award “ally” cookies; I don’t bake), but misogynoir is misogynoir. He is not the first nor will he be the last to say something like this to her and it’s something Black women–non-famous and famous alike–have to deal with. In her new song “Yoga” she sings, “you cannot police me, so get off my areola. Get off my areola.” This is deliberate. Are men ever going to listen to what she says about herself? Or is trying to police her more important? She doesn’t exist to please them, at their will. They’ll deal.
