I have wanted to write this for ages. This post is addressed to girls who could be described as just at the start of their journey. This is for girls who are expressing themselves on the internet for the first time, for girls who are coming to terms with their interest in spanking, and for girls trying to understand their unrelenting need for an authority figure, for a terribly strict someone who won’t let up, give up or give way.
I was that way not so long ago.
I think that was when I turned up here.
I made one comment and I ran away, literally.
I ran upstairs and hid in my bed for about half an hour. My heart was thumping and I felt sick. It felt like being in the audience of a gripping emotional play and standing up and shouting, “Me too! I feel just like she does!” whilst pointing at the leading lady.
Oh, the trauma of speaking the first time. The fear that everyone would turn around and in grim silence stare before hissing, “What is she doing here? Girls like her should not be allowed in. Did you hear what she said? That was so stupid. She is so stupid.”
But of course, really the journey started years before.
It can start in many ways but I can only tell my own story. I will tell it vaguely because the details make me sad and I have not been sad about this for a long time.
I was little and there was, to quote a poem, “No space in the universe to fit me in,” my parents told me (like the poem) “As much for me as for anyone but it was not true.”
I write this bitterly. My sadness was perfectly acceptable as long as it was not noticable or an inconvinience to anyone besides myself. I was a girl-that-is-not-a-girl.
I almost resent having to write about this but if I am honest then you will hear me and maybe see yourself here.
But tomorrow we have a happy post with ribbons and pretty things, if you would like to wait. Or you may go on with this one.
Being a-girl-that-is-not-a-girl is easy. You must know that you are not as good as a boy. You must serve boys, iron for them, accept their abuse and never act as though your pain is worth anything because you are not a boy. You must know that you are not as good as real girls, girls who are pretty and whose fathers love them.If you could not exist and not make a fuss about it then at least we will be able to say that you know your place.
And of course, there is more to it. There were feelings that were deep and overwhelming, things that kept me awake and made me awkward around some men.
I was flustered when someone told me what to do, someone who wore a suit in a particular way. I could not say the word “spank,” although I searched obsessivly for any spanking scene in novels or films.
Once again, I would run when I found them, sometimes literally. Approach, avoid, approach, avoid, and then stop and sit very still until everything goes away.
I am stopping now, and because I am British and need a break from that emotion I will mention that the snow is starting to thaw I think. I think there may be a warmer spell which is good because my dogs and I need to go out.
I grew up mindful of my place in society and learned to cover and forget the needs I never had, and became what I supposed to be.
How I loathe being what I am supposed to be.
But my forgotten girl kept pulling at me, and the feelings that I could not articulate would not let me alone. She insisted on adventure no matter how often I tried to hush her and make her still.
So then I found myself here. And I fell in love, and it was all easy as pie.
Or did you want the truth?
The truth is that when I started to be here every part of me hurt. It was like taking off a bandage. I was terrified and in pain all the time. I was ultra-vulnerable and every word meant too much.
My needs had been shoved in a cupboard and ignored for years and years, and opening the door brought them all down onto my head. I was drowning in need. And just like a drowning girl I lashed out sometimes. I picked up on everything that was said to me and scrutinised it. I found every interaction complicated and confusing.
In time though, this panic started to soothe and these are some of the things I learned.
I learned to know what I need. This is harder than you would imagine because what I need is different to what the other girls needed. The truth is there are some things we all share but each of us has very specific needs. Some need to be naughty and to be told off, some need a feeling of peaceful submission and some need an adult, equal sexual relationship that includes copious spanking. There are a gazzillion variations.
I found out how to say what I need. Sometimes I need to be told off. I used to get upset and tied in knots with my need and would be dreadful. I did not mean to be like that or want to be like that. It was not a game. Now I can not quite say, “I need to be told off,” but I can send an email saying something like, “I feel a bit insecure and clingy.” He knows what this means.
I found out lots of different ways to meet my needs. I am lucky I am in a relationship with this man who does this thing we do. Most of my exploration I have done with him but before him I found other ways. There are friends online who are Toppy and they can be a tremendous help. They help with questions and with a feeling of security. Reading helps, fiction and non – fiction and knowing this is a process helps. I have my whole lifetime to understand.
I learned not to make other people bit players in my play. Tops and fellow girls I meet are all new to me. They do not represent people in my past and I learned not to see them like that or use them. I realised that everyone has a part to play and a way they will help me but only if I can see them for who they are rather than make them into somoene I knew. They have their own stories, they are three dimensional, having good days and bad days. They are not a cartoon anymore than I am.
I realised that if I did not see people for who they are then I make them into someone I knew. I kept getting stuck in the past. I could only replay what happened. There was no wizard. There was no one who can cure me. That is mostly because there is nothing wrong with me. That was a revelation.
I learned to protect myself. I wanted to know everything about everyone. I would read everywhere, and half of it would make me feel dirty and ashamed to play in nice places. I learned to read people that made me feel good about myself and what I am.
I learned to laugh. I learned to play. It is not serious all the time, and in fact this is a huge part of it, learning to play. I learned how to play with a boundry and not stomp all over it. I got it wrong at first, quite often. But with lots and lots of naughty practise I got better at it.
I learned to brat. I learned it is not about being irritating or pushing every button I could find. It is about playing with a line. It is about the adult skill or learning someone else’s hard limits and respecting them. It is about making myself and other people laugh. It is about trusting other people to have fun with me and play along side me.
I almost learned to accept a telling off.
I learned to find ways to make me feel happily naughty and like the girl I want to be.
I read some of Sark , I have bubble baths with glitter in them. I watch films with Bogart and Bacall, appreciate musicals with big dresses and most of all, above any of it, I wear very, very pretty knickers.
Enjoy the journey; we are all on it. Just in case you think for a moment that I am ahead of you, I am not. I am right next to you and I am very happy to be there.
