Yesterday I received a comment from the wonderful Christine M. I find it so delicious and delightful I have provided a slightly edited copy here. The full account is in the comments section on my post, ‘No videos of this activity on the net.’
Dear Mistress Scarlet
I meant to write more promptly on your topic of ‘Tedium’, but it soon became an epic and took longer than expected. I must be honest, I wrote this for my own memories too as I did have such a good time!
I too love the power of providing total control and misery at the same time. It provides me a most wonderful sense of power; and deprives the submissive what they ultimately desire most, the Mistress’ attention. It shows so perfectly, “you are totally inconsequential, I will deprive you of your liberty, I will occupy you with the most mind-destroying, boring, and repetitious task, and not even notice you!
David is raised as ‘youth’ might have been reared in Victorian or Edwardian times, albeit with an exceedingly rigid and ultra-strict disciplinary code. One of my favoured punishments is a ‘strict detention’, the rules of which have, over the years, evolved and become ever more rigid and demanding. Well a few weeks back, David was running late from work. He blamed heavier than normal traffic, but we don’t accept excuses in our household. He was placed on a Saturday night detention, which had him looking most morose. I planned to be going out that night with friends, and he had been promised that he could stay up late to watch a big football game. Well he would still be staying up late!
Detentions are very serious punishments in our household, and since Saturday’s always mean chores for David, the whole day becomes extremely arduous. We went to bed together Friday night, and after some light teasing, which had David crawling up the wall, I let him please me with his tongue, as only he can. We then cuddled up to fall asleep. This was when I warmly advised him, “Since you have a Saturday night detention tomorrow, you will need to set your alarm for 4-30 tomorrow morning. I want you showered and dressed ready to start your chores no later than 5-00.” It felt delicious as he went so quiet, clearly numbed by my advice.
“You’ll find a full list of your chores for the day on the kitchen table. I want everything finished before 4-30 pm since you will need to shower, dress in your schoolgirl uniform and be seated at your desk, hands on head, back straight, ready to start your detention promptly at 5-00. I suggest you make sure you are seated no later than ten to!” I then rolled over and ignored him, he was in punishment mode, but tomorrow would be far worse!
Well I set him an exceptionally full on day of strenuous chores, scrubbing clean two bathrooms and a third toilet, a full clean of the kitchen, all windows inside and outside spotlessly cleaned, several loads of washing and ironing, the outside courtyard to scrub, the whole house vacuumed, living room furniture polished to perfection, bed linen changed and my car washed, waxed and vacuumed. Believe me, he had to work hard and fast; he well knows chores are not to be done leisurely. I expect to see him sweating and puffing for breath, as if doing a full gym workout, he is expected to move quickly and continuously, woe betide taking a ‘smoko’.
I am sure you can imagine that after close to eleven hours of such gruelling toil, the last thing he wanted to be doing was one of my detentions. Nevertheless, there he was at a ten to five, when I entered the room, seated at his desk, looking exhausted and clearly very fretful, in full schoolgirl uniform, hands on head.
Full schoolgirl uniform means, navy blue cotton knickers; white cotton vest; Navy blue girdle, navy blue stockings with rear seam razor-straight; navy blue box-pleat gym-slip, meticulously ironed, ending four inches above the knees; pink school house sash, neatly tied on the right-side; white socks, the pattern razor straight; heavy, black, lace-up shoes; white, long-sleeved blouse; school-tie; grey V-neck school jumper; navy blazer; hair bryl-creamed back with a straight side parting and a straw boater secured with a big pink ribbon under the chin. He hates the ribbon as it is so uncomfortable and ‘in-the-way’.
I had laid out on his desk, three pens, each symmetrically placed parallel to the top of the desk, together with a wooden ruler; a thick A4 notepad, also placed square, in the centre of the desk; face-down (exam style) to the side of this were 15 typewritten pages; and above these pages, a sealed envelope.
My tone was terse, frigid, dripping cold venom, and served to leave him literally trembling with fearful anxiety. “Full detention rules apply – starting now!” This means he is to maintain total silence and an exacting posture. He is seated at a school desk with a rubber mat placed under him and anchored just under the front legs of the desk. The desk legs and stool legs are fitted over marked squares on the floor so everything lines up for his discomfort, and must not move throughout the Detention. Two further white outlines have been applied wherein he must place his feet and again, his feet must remain firmly placed flat on the floor within the marks, throughout the detention.
He must sit upright and he is not allowed to rest his head in his hand, he must not ‘fidget’, scratch, rub his eyes, etc.; he must write continuously without pause. There are no clocks and he must write unaware of the time and take only one authorised break. The desk top must be maintained meticulously as it was now, and pens and rulers placed down without sound.
“You will write for three hours. There will be a 30 minute meal break at 8-00 pm, and you will then continue for a further three hours!” I advised with my frosty demeanour.
“Your punishment assignment is on the desk. Your quota for the night is in the sealed envelope. If you do not meet your quota, you will be caned. You will then continue writing until you reach the quota; plus an additional punishment quota that I will allocate. You will also earn punishment if you break any detention rules or uniform rules. You may now read your assignment.”
I sat at my comfortable desk nearby, in a plush office chair and relaxed with a glass of wine, smiling as I watched the colour drain from his face as he read his instructions, becoming ever more agitated. I could tell he wished to protest, beg for a less demanding assignment, frustrated in his knowledge that it would not turn out well for him if he spoke. He glanced forlornly over at me, his eyes beseeching me, he was on the verge of tears. I was delighted, his tiredness and the challenging work I had provided were going to drain him mentally, emotionally and physically.
You are allowed one error per page, which is to be ruled through neatly in red.
If you make a second error, the page is to be removed and discarded. If you try to conceal or ignore an error, I will remove two or more pages.
Not only was the exercise mind-numbingly difficult, especially given how tired he was, it was a mentally and physically exhausting task that would get harder as the night wore on, made worse by his strict posture controls, and the fact that he must not change his position nor stop writing.
He also faces a terrible quandary, made worse by not knowing how many lines he must write. If he writes slowly and carefully, so he makes no mistakes, he risks not reaching his quota. If he writes quickly to reach his quota, he risks making errors and having to tear out pages!
“Begin” I curtly advised at 5 o’clock precisely. I then drew all the curtains in the office, picked up my wine and moved over to a leather couch where I relaxed and revelled in his misery. He was ignored as I read my book and then chatted with a friend by phone. After thirty minutes I checked over his shoulder, he sighed pathetically, teary-eyed, struggling not to sob. It was a pathetic attempt to garner sympathy or leniency.
He was up to verse 20 in chapter one, and about half-way down the second page of his note pad. I was struggling not to order him to serve me with his tongue I was so hot. First I set up the security camera to watch over him, before returning to his desk, my icy demeanour, a stark contrast to the light-hearted banter of my earlier phone conversation. I leaned over, took hold of the bottom of the page he was half-way through, and gently tore it out.
“Detention rules are silence at all times, that means no sighs!” He was aghast as I ripped it into four pieces and threw them in the bin. I then hurried upstairs to get ready for a night out with friends, but not before pulling out my vibrator!
The security camera is just wonderful. It is linked to the Wi-Fi in the house, and I can view the feed on my iPhone or iPad wherever I am, provided I am connected to the internet. The beauty is, he never knows when I am watching, or if I even bother to watch him. The camera records to a card so I can check back on him too, and even view the feed at fast rewind or fast forward! He dare not break a Detention rule, it even picks up sound!
When I came back down I was dressed glamorously, my hair back in a severe pony-tail, stockings and heels, lightly perfumed and very desirable. He would have been aching to be with me. He didn’t need to know my plans though, he was in detention and being ignored.
My phone rang, it was my friend Carole advising she was five minutes away. I spoke with her in good-humour, before returning to David and snapping, “Your phone is in airplane mode, facedown on my desk. I have set an alarm for 8-00 pm. When it rings, you may take a 30 minute break. Your dinner and a drink are in the kitchen. Make sure you go to the toilet as it is your only break of the night. Do not enter any other room. When you cancel the alarm, place the phone in my desk drawer, I have covered all other clocks. Make sure you are back at your desk, writing, no later than 8-30; I will be checking!”
Again a dilemma for him. He has a thirty minute break, but no way to time it. So he needs to make sure he is back early. As I said earlier, this is a punishment, it is not meant to be pleasant. I would later be enjoying my meal at a swanky new restaurant with a few friends, a few glasses of wine and having a wonderful time. He would be miserable, ‘enjoying’ an overly generous serving of watery, over-boiled squash and aubergine with boiled calves’ liver, served cold, and accompanied by a glass of the water the vegetables had been cooked in. He would struggle to eat it, but there is a security camera in the kitchen too, so eat it he will, and quickly if he is to be at his desk in time! it is not pleasant for him! And all this time he is isolated, alone, ignored, forgotten about.
I returned home late, slightly inebriated, and feeling incredibly horny from the total power-rush of his suffering. I changed for bed before finally entering the office.
“Stop writing NOW!” I coldly announced. He is required to immediately stop writing, if he so much as tries to finish the word he is writing, I will rip out the entire page. He must then immediately place his hands on his head. He was bleary eyed, his face was tear-streaked, the result of crying when he had to tear out pages where he had made mistakes, there were more than a dozen such pages neatly stacked on his desk. I was relaxed in satin pyjamas, my long hair loose over my shoulders, and wearing high-heel mules, ‘Oh how he would have adored to caress my body!’
He sat there, shaking, disconsolate, exhausted.
“How many chapters have you completed?”
I promise you this next bit is the truth, “Pretty well five chapters, Ma’am,” he politely replied.
“What do you mean ‘pretty well five chapters’?” I coldly snapped.
“I am half-way through verse 31, the last verse in chapter 5, Ma’am.”
“That means you have only completed four chapters!” I replied with frosty callousness, “Open your envelope read out your target for the night.”
He nervously opened the envelope, struggling to stop his hands shaking, he really was at his limits, as he nervously read out, “Five chapters, Ma’am.” He was sobbing, he knew what was coming.
I remained silent for a minute or more as he nervously fretted, I maintained my frigid demeanour though I was aching to orgasm at the power dynamic in play. I ignored him and left the room for a few minutes before returning with my dragon cane. It is 39 inches long, as thick as my little finger and an very dark brown colour, it is formidably painful. His entire body was shivering and convulsing uncontollaby in trepidation when I finally returned.
I stood beside him, flexing my cane gently in both hands. It is quite a stiff cane, and only bends a little. It is an implement that understandably terrifies him. I looked stonily at him before finally addressing him calmly, matter-of-factly, “I set a target that you should have easily reached if you applied yourself to your task diligently.
I paused, placed the cane on his desk and slowly paced behind him, as he started, to speak, I angrily snapped, “SILENCE! I do not want to hear a word from you, not even an apology.” I let him stew a while longer before I leaned over him from behind, my mouth close to his ear so he could smell my soft feminine fragrance, my hands resting gently on his shoulders, he could hear the soft rustle of my satin pyjamas as I quietly intoned, “You have clearly been lazy, careless and disrespectful, and now you are going to pay the price. ”
Standing up I picked up the cane, strode over to the leather sofa and smashed the cane down on the arm, the whir and crack where frightening and he jumped in terror, I was displaying controlled rage to deepen his respect and fear.
“There will be no break. You will remain in detention and complete chapter five. You will also copy out chapters six and seven before you retire for the night.” I didn’t think it possible for him to look more morose and sorrowful, but he did, in fact he almost collapsed, sobbing loudly in despair and self-pity, real tears flowing. It was all ignored.
“But first, you are going to receive 12 strokes of the cane across your bare buttocks!”
It was 12-20 before a very tired, sore and dishevelled ‘school-girl’, got back to his detention, and it was almost four in the morning before he finished and retired to bed.
I was in bed exploding in orgasms at the imagery of the evening, and woke several times to play with my vibrator before falling into a deep sleep, I didn’t even hear him enter the room.”