Writing Lines: The Penance of Paper
Your brain is slippery. You hear what I say, but you don’t listen.
I tell you to behave, and five minutes later you are slouching. I tell you to serve, and you get distracted. Since you clearly cannot retain information through your ears, we are going to try routing it through your hand.
“Writing Lines” is classic discipline for a reason. It is tedious. It is physically uncomfortable. It is boring. And that is exactly why it works. I am taking your most valuable asset, your time, and forcing you to spend it acknowledging your own flaws.
🧠 The Psychology: Cognitive Grooves
There is a direct line between your hand and your brain. When you type, you can autopilot. But when you write by hand, you have to form every letter. You have to slow down.
By forcing you to write the same humiliating sentence over and over, I am carving a “cognitive groove” in your mind. At line 10, you are annoyed. At line 40, your hand hurts. But by line 80? You enter a trance. The words lose their individual meaning and become a mantra. You stop fighting the sentence and you simply become the sentence.
It is a meditation on your own bad behavior.
📋 The Task: The “Dead Hand” Protocol
Get a notebook and a pen. A real pen. No pencils, no erasers. Mistakes must be crossed out so I can see your clumsiness.
The Sentence: You will write the following phrase exactly as written: “I am a bad girl and I deserve to be punished.”
The Count: You will write this 100 times.
The Rules:
- Number Every Line: 1. I am… 2. I am… If you miscount, you add 10 extra lines for being bad at math.
- Legibility Matters: If the handwriting gets messy because your hand is cramping, those lines do not count. You must rewrite them. I want perfect, schoolgirl cursive or neat print.
- No Breaks: You do not stop to stretch your hand. You write until it is done.
- The Signature: At the bottom of the last page, you will sign your name and date it. This is a confession.
👠 Mistress Lexie’s Advice
Oh, does your hand hurt? Is your wrist throbbing?
Good. That cramp is my hand squeezing your wrist, reminding you who you write for. Don’t rush through it to get it over with. Read the words as you write them. “Deserve.” “Punished.” Let the truth of it sink in. You are bad. And this cramp? This is exactly what you deserve.
Cap off the pen. Page one. Begin.