The power of fantasy

One of my concerns in advance of the Regency party was whether I could sustain the character throughout the weekend. Could I properly play a young lady in the society of that time, without resorting to my usual bratting and giddiness?

So the biggest surprise of the weekend was how much I got into it. How the roleplay itself was the main thrill for me. That the spankings and other kinky play, although lots of fun too, became a secondary amusement. The dressing up, dining formally, conversing with the other guests, walks in the garden, the dancing and being Lady Grace were the main highlights. For the first time I understood what Haron means by saying that sometimes the very roleplay is enough for her; spankings are not always necessary to fulfil a fantasy.

I absolutely adored being Lady Grace, a young Anglo Irish lady of some spirit but refined enough to be acceptable in good society. I wanted to do her proud. I wanted to be seen as respectable, with good manners and wit and easy conversation. I needed Lord Fawcett and Mrs Derby to approve of her behaviour.

I delighted in wearing such pretty clothes and wearing my hair so elegantly. In being surrounded by other charming and beautiful ladies. Easily succumbed to the the attention and courtesy of the gentlemen and quickly became accustomed to having servants to fetch and carry and help me dress. Enjoyed having no responsibility. I was bade to come and I came, bade to go and I went. Gave myself up naturally to the authority of my superiors.

While I did have my share of spankings, these were mostly of the nice variety, with much intimate caressing that any young lady would enjoy. And I truly did try to keep my bratting and acting up to be dealt with, to a minimum. My only major moment of weakness, a most fun sword fight with the equally spirited Dorothea. And indeed when my naughty cousin and some other ladies were flinging bread across the dinner table, I could not partake, it didn't feel right.

Since my return from 1809 I've spent many delightful moments reliving various parts of the weekend. Receiving Mrs Derby's seal of approval on my appearance; being formally introduced to the other guests that first evening; walking arm in arm with Francesca in the garden; dancing at the Regency ball; complimented on my appearance; receiving my private mail; being scolded by Sir Abel for some little indiscretion; descending the stairs with my skirts gathered; playing games; Kitty lacing up my corset. I could go on and on...

But apart from reliving every beautiful moment I've been reflecting on how I felt throughout the weekend. The fact that at times I felt at my most meek and submissive. This was despite the lack of heavy and intense thrashings, which are usually what are required to take me to that place.

Perhaps it was because all through the weekend I felt safe and cosseted. Taken care of, by the gentleman, the ladies and of course the wonderful servants. When I looked in the mirror I thought I was pretty, and when people complimented me I believed it. I walked with my head higher, sat happily and contentedly, felt welcomed and wanted, at ease and at home.

Is this why I crave being disciplined and controlled? Am I just really looking to be made feel special? To feel taken care of? To feel like I belong?