Best of the kinky rest – 3: “Not so willing”

This, from Verity Paige in June, is just awesome – and forms the next selection in my annual round-up of my favourite kinky posts:

I am always so willing. In fact I think there is not a point in my day to day life or kink life where I am not willing to please someone, somehow. At work I spend my day composing letters and emails where I am essentially offering platitudes and apologies; the heart of my job is to do this enough, until the recipient feels in some way that the wrong committed (even if imagined) has been righted.

In life, I don’t think there is one of my friends that would not say that I was a nice person, sweet, helpful. In kink I am always the one so willing to please, bashful, yes, timid, yes, but definitely willing to please, and make right for any wrong committed or be seen as good.

Where is the room for that assertiveness and strength that I have painstakingly started to develop?… I have been wondering of late what it would be like to play a scene where I am not as willing as I perhaps always am….

I see myself standing up for something I believe in, something that will mean I will not back down and something I am willing to argue for or about. I can see and imagine that inner feeling of anger, of fight. Even if that fight is not a physical one as such, a mental one. The unwillingness to back down, that defiant look straight into the eyes of another that say I will not back down no matter what you do to me. I fantasise of that attempt to be broken from that mindset and standing strong in it, of not breaking despite what may come of it, physical or otherwise…

The author talks of the fantasies of her childhood days; of games played with her best friend:

I remember often being tied up, of playing the dutiful handmaiden protecting her queen, not divulging crucial information at the hands of a cruel, calculating interrogator. I was obsessed with the stories of King Arthur in my younger years and often [our games] followed that medieval bent. Then of course there was the kidnapping, or betrayal of someone close that put me in harm’s way. The point of a sword at my throat or chest, the threat of pain terrible or of agonies promised if the proper obeisance was not given.

And then there are other flashes:

The thought of having my face slapped and instead of looking down, or looking sheepish, that look back to the person slapping me while my face stings, not flinching, not blinking, in fact looking back defiantly inviting more.

… and fantasies…

… of a captor or someone that I should show deference to, cold, no emotion, torturing me, trying to take that last park of defiance from me.

Fabulous stuff, and incredibly hot! Definitely a favourite from the year.