Thursday, December 31

Reeling in the Year

It's New Year's Eve and I've been reflecting on the kinky year that was, trying to come up with an end of year post to cover off all the amazing experiences I've had and the wonderful people I've met.

Unfortunately it's proving a lil hard! And no wonder for I have done far too much this year to try and summarise in just one post. Sure that's the point of having a blog in the first place is it not, to record everything in detail!

So instead I am just going to pull out a few key events in the year, the major milestones in my kink journey for 2009!

Nimhneach (March & August)
I've always had a great time at Nimhneach but these were probably two of the best for me. In March, Caroline, Stefan and I went in matching school uniforms as attendees of St Francis Academy. Topcat was in charge as our headmaster and we held a detailed stage show where he spanked, strapped and caned all three of us, much to the amusement of the watching crowd.

Whilst in August Eliane was visiting and I met Master Retep and Bandree for the first time which made it extra special. It was also the night of my deeply, submissive scene with Zytex.

Meeting the UK Kinksters (April)
Towards the end of April, having been chatting to Abel less than a month, he invited me to come and see Madame de Sade in London with him, Haron and several other kinky strangers. Being the spontaneous type I accepted and a week later found myself downstairs in a Heathrow hotel trying to pluck up the courage to go up and meet Abel, Haron and Niki Flynn.

And then a few hours later having the nerve wracking, but exciting experience of meeting Eliane, Lord Fawcett, Rebecca, Martha, Lady Cavendish and her partner, Sarah and her partner, Pandora, Tom Cameron and Olivia Manners all for the very first time. Those who were there can attest to the fact my nerves exploded in the biggest show of brattiness and playfulness! This of course ended in a sound strapping and caning from Abel on the return to our hotel.

One of the most significant of my kinky milestones!

A Painful Awakening (May)
Starting my blog was the most spur of the moment decision and one of the best things I've achieved this year. I don't know what I'd do without such an outlet for processing my kink. And of course my excitement when Miss Jules pimped it for me!

Meeting Jessica and HH (May)
As neither had been at the theatre in April, due to other commitments, it was not until a month later I had the pleasure of meeting these two, who I now count as very good friends. I remember being both excited and nervous to meet Jessica. Having heard so much about her, (all good!) I really wanted her to like me. As for HH, well I was terrified meeting and playing with him for the first time, but he's a softie really!

Lowewood (July and September)
My first Lowewood in July was great, my first ever full-on school roleplay experience, made even more special by the fact Caroline and Graham the Girl (TM) were there too. But my second one in September was even better. I really got into it, not held back by nerves or not knowing what to expect. I truly felt like a schoolgirl that day, with all the highs and lows of school life. Like winning the Father Smith Cup (YAY) and being the naughtiest girl in the school (BOO).

It was also the happy day I met Scarlett for the first time and I'll never forget the pair of us dancing together on the chairs after dinner to the St Trinian's theme tune!

Winterbrook (September)
Being a part of this blog and managing to write two characters over the past few months is something I'm very proud of.

Discovering my twin (September)
OK, well not twins exactly, but we almost are. Although from completely different backgrounds and professions, Catherine and I hit it off almost immediately. And we think so similarly on things it can be scary, prompting some to call us twins!

Oil Wrestling (September)
Need I say any more? I know it was meant as an anniversary present for HWMBO but honestly I never laughed so much in my entire life. As much at the hilarity of what we were doing and the absurdness of how much I wanted to win!!

Disciplined by HH (October and December)
The real life punishment I received back in October. When I can honestly say I never want to feel like or be dealt with like that again. A real milestone on the kinky journey. And being brought to tears by a simple hand spanking in the snow. The realisation I don't have to be beaten to tears for a scene to be intense.

Spanking Orgy (November)
Eliane's spanking orgy was one of the best parties of the year with all the craziness that goes with lots of champagne, cute girls and central heating that's a smidgen too hot ;) It was so great to have Graham there, as well as so many other close friends.

Fawcett House Party (November)
I cannot give it the dues it deserves in just two lines so if you haven't already read my posts on it you really should (here and here.) Truly the most amazing event I have ever attended. I don't think anything will ever surpass it.

Coming clean (November)
Telling another 'nilla about my kink. Truly liberating. Her interest and support has been amazing and makes me feel very lucky to have such great friends who accept me for who I am.

Art (December)
Posing in the snow for HH, nude. A giant boost for my confidence!

Flogged (December)
The worst caning ever, courtesy of Abel and HH. Proper weals and stripes and not being able to sit down. A fantasy fulfilled.

Of course there are so many experiences and people not mentioned here, but have all contributed to my kinky journey. So thanks to you. And to all my readers and commentators who play your part in helping me process this kinky journey, especially Indy and Paul.

Happy New Year!

Monday, December 28

A birthday spanking for Abel!

Today I was struck by a great injustice in our world. It's Abel's birthday and as I was wishing him lots of nice things, I innocently asked when he was gong to get his birthday spanking? I mean 42 is an awful lot of strokes, I hoped he'd take them bravely.

To which he informed me that Haron would be taking it for him. Although he would administer all 42, personally.

That was how the world of bottoms and tops worked and all that. Usually I'd agree but really not even taking your own birthday spanking! So I'm starting a petition. Abel should get a birthday spanking! Who's with me?

Sunday, December 27

Breaking Point

As the pain became unbearable it suddenly stopped and I was dragged to my feet. Cherry was brought in from next door and we managed to exchange the briefest of glance. Looks of encouragement to hang in there, that we were stronger than this.

They continued to question us, telling us they knew everything about us, but we still denied everything. Until Abel produced the photo. One of both Cherry and I on the day we graduated from the academy. Sitting side by side in the front row, smiling happily. How far away that day seemed now.

I was momentarily shocked but we'd come too far now to give in.

'Great photo shopping guys,' I laughed. 'Obviously you'll go to any lengths to ruin our deal with the Don.'

Cherry agreed, mocking Abel and the Prof for thinking that anyone would believe the photos were real.

'Are we done with this nonsense now, haven't you had enough fun for one day?' she asked, her voice as cool as a cucumber.

'Enough,' the Don's tone was changing, more menacing. 'We need to do a more thorough search. Find the memory card and let's be done here,' he ordered his men. 'Start with her,' nodding at Cherry.

'Yes sir,' the Prof replied taking hold of her.

'Just a minute Prof, I think we should clean the girls up before we touch them,' Abel interrupted, grinning evilly.

They dragged Cherry down the hall and the sound of water running was heard, followed by her screams. My stomach turned uneasily. I was fast getting out of my depth here. Was it really all worth it? What had they told us in training. They can't break you unless you let them get to you. Mental strength. Stay focused and engage with them. Appeal to their human side.

Trying to sound relaxed I tried to talk to the Don. To try and convince him that his men were setting us up, that they were jealous of his interest in our deal. But to no avail. He merely shook his head and suggested it would be easier to admit what they already knew.

When Cherry was dragged back in she was soaking wet and shivering. Then it was my turn. The Don and Abel subjected me to the same treatment. Hosing me down with freezing cold water and scrubbing my skin all over with a foul smelling soap. I couldn't help but cry out as the icy water assaulted me and the men's hands probed me viciously.

They then bent me over a table in the bathroom with my legs spread wide and forced me to submit to a full cavity search. I bore it as quietly as I could, determined not to show them much it was getting to me. But couldn't help gasping aloud as the Don's hands explored my most intimate places. A little bit of me died inside. No job was worth this.

After an eternity of humiliating me the men decided I wasn't concealing anything and dragged me back to the room with Cherry. The mood shifted slightly with all the men seeming more relaxed. Perhaps our fates were decided then. Maybe the Don had given some indiscernible signal. But what came next seemed more for their enjoyment than anything else.

The Prof tied a harness over our upper bodies, trapping our breasts painfully in the rough rope. Once we were both tied to his satisfaction we were then tied together, face to face, breast to breast, in the most intimate of positions.

He then secured us together through a rope between our legs. Meaning when one moved or jumped the rope burned against the other. Then the whipping started, firstly with Cherry. On her back, bottom and thighs. I could feel the pain vibrating through her and by the time my own whipping started I was starting to break. The tears came at how desolate the situation was, at agonising over how much we could bear.

When the whipping eventually stopped we were untied and taken to separate rooms. Abel was to be my tormentor. Cherry was taken by the Prof and the Don.

Flashbacks of what happened then continue to haunt me. Any remaining faith I had in man kind was stolen as I was violated brutally in every possible way. Made worse by Abel's obvious delight at my distress. I tried to take it silently, all the time hearing Cherry's screams from down the corridor.

I cannot say how long the torment lasted. By the time he released me I was silent and broken. Yet still refusing to admit what we had done. It was all I had left to cling to. Not that it mattered anymore, I knew they were going to dispose of us. We were worth nothing now.

Down the stairs they dragged us and threw us out on the street, naked and shivering in the cold. Stunned we looked at each other, not sure what to make of this turn of events. Had we survived?

Saturday, December 26


Cherry and I were carefully biding our time until we could make our escape with the evidence we had spent months collecting. It had all gone so smoothly. The long planned for introduction to the Don. Convincing him of the merits of our money making scheme. And above all, his acquiescence to it secretly caught on camera.

That had been last night and we were now sitting with the Don discussing the finer points of the scheme. I shifted uncomfortably on my chair, resisting the urge to pull my short, tight dress down. I wasn't used to wearing such provocative clothing or such high heels, but needs must.

The Don liked pretty things, one of the reasons that Cherry and I had been especially chosen for this mission. Being thought sufficiently young and beautiful to appeal to him. Accessorised with tight, low cut dresses, the bling jewellery and finished off with the over the top vampish make-up, we looked very much the part we were playing.

Freshly graduated from the police academy it came as both an honour and a shock to both Cherry and me to be selected for the job. Infiltrate the local mafia via the Don's most trusted henchmen, the Prof and Abel. Once their confidence was gained to then arrange an audience with the Don and set him up on camera.

Last night all had gone to plan and the memory card with the encounter was hidden in the house until we could make our escape with it. We were now striving to look relaxed and enthralled with the Don. It wouldn't do to arouse suspicion with a hasty exist.

The unannounced arrival of the Prof and Abel was slightly unsettling. Cherry and I exchanged nervous glances as the henchmen requested a word in private with the Don, but we resolved to play it cool. Stick to the plan.

When the gentlemen reappeared they asked us to to stand up. Without warning we were grabbed and roughly handcuffed.

"We know what you've been up to," the Prof snarled, " We know about the sting and the camera and you'd better tell us where the memory card is."

"Or else we'll have to hurt you. Really badly" Abel chimed in. "And you really wouldn't want that," he sneered pulling Cherry's hair roughly.

We both tried to stay calm. "Really boys if you want us that badly, you just have to ask," Cherry teased.

"Yes everything's available for the right price," I laughed.

Abel turned to me and slapped me sharply across the face laughing as I drew back from him. "There's more of that where that came from Candy," he spat, "Not that that's your real name of course!"

The Prof then took up the reigns, manhandling both of us as he demanded answers.

Inwardly I was very worried and suspected Cherry felt the same. But there was nothing for it but to brazen it out. We had no idea what the men actually knew. In as steady a voice as we could muster we protested that we had no idea what they were talking about.

The Don sighed looking bored by the turn of events.

"We know that you are both police officers and eventually you will tell us everything" he said softly. "I'd advise you to give us what we want and we'll be kind to you."

Again we denied everything, continuing to try and make a joke of it and asking was this some sort of initiation ceremony. Laughing that the pigs would never take the likes of us. Even though we were both very scared that the men knew our real backgrounds.

"As you wish. Search them," he ordered his henchmen.

Starting with Cherry they made her remove her dress, stockings and underwear until she was before them naked. They searched her clothes thoroughly but found nothing. Then it was my turn until I too was before them naked. I tried to look unconcerned while deep inside mortified at being stripped like this. They took their time inspecting us and our clothes, leering and commenting that we had lovely tits and asses.

"Nothing on either of them Sir," Abel reported back.

"This really is tiresome" the Don replied. "So be it, take them upstairs and let's do this the hard way."

His henchmen dragged us upstairs. Not to the plush comforts of the Don's private quarters this time, but into the west wing of the house to a spartan room with a table and chair the only furniture. We nervously eyed the whips and canes that adorned the room. What were they going to do to us? Police training had not prepared us for anything like this.

"Take Candy next door," the Don nodded at me, "We'll start with this one."

The Prof took me next door to a room with a plain double bed. Pushing me down on it he whispered it was time to stop playing games. Running his hands over my body he commented on what a pretty girl I was and I shivered under his touch. Explained that Cherry would soon be experiencing the worst pain imaginable and that I'd be next. How easy it would be to put a stop to it all. He continued in gentle persuasive tones until Cherry's screams from next door shattered the silence of the room.

I felt sick but was powerless to help her. We couldn't confess to the sting, it would ruin everything. We had to hope we could convince them we were innocent. The screams continued, punctuated by the sound of something sharp being applied to bare skin. What were they doing to poor Cherry? Hearing, but not being able to see anything was agony.

Eventually the Prof decided it was my turn and dragged me next door. Cherry was being held down across a table by Abel and being whipped by the Don with a cane. Vivid welts were already visible on her bottom and thighs and she struggled against Abel's hold. The Prof made me watch the scene for some minutes, reminding me that it was in my power to save my friend, that all this suffering was needless.

Finally they let Cherry up and she was dragged, still bound next door. I was then pushed into her vacant place across the table. The Don stood behind me and asked me would I like to tell him where the memory card was and save myself the pain to come. But, like Cherry before me, I denied knowing anything about it.

Before I could say another word he slammed a heavy wooden paddle into me. I cried out, shocked by the brutal pain. Again and again he crashed he paddle down until blind with pain I lashed out at the Prof holding me down, kicking and struggling with all my might.

Pulling my face towards him the Prof told me it was easy to stop it all, just tell them what they wanted. How easy it could all go away. In defeat I dropped my head and he pushed me back down on the table.

Taking a leather strap he then whipped it down over and over as I squealed and bucked beneath him. I got a brief respite before the Don took up a whip of some sort (I later discovered it was a dressage whip) and slashed it into my skin over and over. I tried to pretend I wasn't there, to ignore the fiery pain across my bottom and legs, tried to get through it, to block out their taunts.

Next door I could hear the sounds of another beating as Abel continued his torture of Cherry. Despair began to set in, and tears came to my eyes. Would we ever get out of this mess...?

Friday, December 25

Merry Christmas

Seeing as it's Christmas I thought I'd share the photo below, I hope you enjoy it!

In a new departure for me it wasn't taken as part of a roleplay and is my first attempt at posing for photography. HH, who took it, is far more practised than me and took some great shots.

Although we weren't roleplaying, I was in quite a submissive headspace when Abel and HH suggested I christen the pedestal in the garden. Normally I wouldn't even entertain the idea. Especially if it's cold!

Haron followed us out in the chilly, snowy day somewhat amused,wrapping herself up snugly in her coat and hat and scarf, while I prepared to disrobe entirely.

While I never thought I could do something like this I actually quite enjoyed it. And afterwards I was flying from the thrill of doing it. But moreover quite proud that I could put aside those insecurities that we all have about our bodies and take such pictures and actually even like some of them!

Thursday, December 24

Christmas Gifts

This is my first proper kinky Christmas. Not that I'm dong anything especially kinky over the festive period but over the year I've made many close friends of the kinky variety. That's meant lots of nice Christmas cards and texts and mails from such friends all wishing me varying degrees of naughty and kinky happiness for Christmas and the New Year!

Some cards even nearly got sent to my scene name which would have made for an interesting conversation with my flatmate :)

And amongst my closet friends we've exchanged gifts, some of which I was allowed to open over the weekend. My very first proper kinky gifts and there are two in particular that I really have to share.

The first is from dear Haron and Abel and adds to my practically non-existent implement collection.

Made to order it's my first ever, very own, all mine, tawse. Isn't it pretty? Mind you it's also very heavy and whippy. Notice the thickness of the beautiful leather and the discreet XH stamp on the handle.

Already I both love and fear it, having experienced a taste of it on my bottom and hands. Haron was the first to treat me to it, with 3 strokes across my recently caned bottom. She, very nicely, gave me one over PJs, then another over knickers and the final on the bare. For such a sweet girl she really made them count! Then HH gave me one stroke, followed by Abel who added the final 2 to make an even 6. He also gave me 4 on the hands and although very restrained in his use, still managed to produce tears as the stiff leather was unyielding on my small hands.

I half-jokingly, half seriously, told Abel and Haron I was going to frame it, being far too beautiful a work of art to use for whacking a girl. Unfortunately neither agreed and Abel has warned me that it had better be ready and waiting to be used when he visits me in Dublin!

The other gift I want to share is something that HH gave me, declaring that every kinky girl should have one. A beautiful book called The Lonely Doll. Having read it I have to agree. I absolutely adore it and laughed and ooh-ed and ah-ed the whole way through reading it.

It's an actual children's book, published and sold worldwide since 1957. And it's supposedly not kinky at all. But even just reading the Wikiepedia plot summary below you'll probably think the author had to have been somewhat kinky, even if she never admitted it to herself.

The Lonely Doll tells the story of a doll named Edith, who lives by herself until two teddy bears, called Mr. Bear and Little Bear, appear in her life. One day, Mr. Bear goes out for a walk leaving the two alone in the house; He returns to find they have rummaged in a closet for dress-up clothing, smeared themselves with makeup, and written "Mr. Bear is just a silly old thing" in lipstick on the mirror. Mr Bear proceeds to discipline both Little Bear and Edith, leaving Edith to worry that he will take Little Bear and leave. Mr. Bear assures her that he will never, ever, leave her.

Yes that's right, Edith gets spanked by Mr Bear and there are adorable pictures to illustrate the story throughout the book. It appeals to me on every level, both the kinky adult I am now and the little girl I used to be. Plus there's a cute doll, cuddly teddy bears, naughty misbehaviour, funny pictures and spankings in it, sure what more could a kinky girl want from a book!

So I'm very grateful for such lovely and thoughtful kinky gifts. But most of all I'd like to thank all my kinky friends for the best gift of all, your friendship. To all of you, both online and offline, thanks for welcoming me into the kinky family this year. For your generosity and support. For being patient and understanding. For the lovely emails and blog comments and texts. For the invites to the parties. For vouching for me to other friends and playmates. And above all for helping me live the kinky dream and accepting me for who I am.

I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a very Happy and Kinky New Year!

Tuesday, December 22

Afterword to A Workhouse Flogging

The workhouse scene that we played, as described here, is based on a real girl called Eliza. HH, having a keen interest in the history of Corporal Punishment always has his eye out for an interesting story and came across it on one of his forays. After hearing her poor sad tale we could easily imagine what might have happened to her when the Master returned to his post at the workhouse!

I've made HH promise to write up the full story on his blog so you'll hear more about that.

As for me, well it turned out to be an extremely intense scene. Both because I knew it was a real girl who could easily have been treated that way. I was saddened by her bravery in coming forward and agonised over the futility of it. Imagined her being forced to retract her testimony and endure such a severe punishment.

And also so intense because it was the severest caning I've ever received. By a long shot. Apparently the position was perfect for administering a hard and accurate caning. Jutting out over the horse, locked into position by the foot holes and the rope, unable to wriggle, meant I was a perfect target. HH and Abel could cane as hard as they wished, confident that all their strokes would land correctly. And they admitted they caned me as hard as they've ever caned anybody. Encouraged by my reactions, by carefully monitoring me, by knowing they wouldn't cause any lasting damage, by KNOWING me and TRUSTING me, as I knew and trusted them.

Added to that they used a very severe dragon cane, both whippy and dense. Each stroke whipped the skin, but also left an impression that burned long after the stroke. And with only the briefest of time between each stroke I couldn't recover in time to deal with the next. It resulted in me screaming to deal with the pain.

When I dropped off the horse on the 1oth stroke I was in so much pain I couldn't decide what to do. I don't know if I was reacting as Eliza or Emma Jane. Didn't know if my protests were serious, that I couldn't actually continue. But I took a breath and got back up and the strokes kept coming, just as hard, just as fast.

In reflecting on the scene afterward I was pleased that I didn't get angry at this point. I accepted what was happening. Decided to continue. Dealt with it. And let myself get completely immersed in it. Saw it out to its conclusion. Felt overwhelming relief when it ended.

HH took pictures of me as I stayed in position after the final strokes. One of these was of my face. He ordered me to look straight into the camera and although I had stopped sobbing by now the very humbling act of having to face the camera, of displaying the exent to which I had been broken, tore me up. My face crumpled and I was washed over with fresh tears.

When I was dismissed HH and Abel readied themselves to comfort me, but I skipped out of the room and down to my bed. HH is used to his. I need time to transition from the scene back to reality. Need to check myself. How I feel. Know if I'm ok. Before I can relate to the top. Need to have a chance to let the catharsis set in. Of enduring and surviving.

Both stepped back to the next room, door open, waiting for me to need them. A tough thing for a top to understand and comply with. And shortly afterwards I did need them. And in their arms I cried myself back to reality. Surfaced to safety and comfort and reassurance. Hugged for a long time before moving on to analysing the scene. Each of us processing and healing.

Experiences like these - the emotions and feelings that go with them, the utter immersion in play, the safety of being caught, the indescribable catharsis it brings - this is why I do this thing we do. It completes me.

All the rest of the day and the next those cane strokes burned. I can still feel them now. For the first time I had actual stripes to show in the hours afterwards, and playing later was difficult as my pain tolerance was zero!

This was taken just before I went to bed that night... and yes I did sleep on my tummy!

A Workhouse Flogging

Eliza stood trembling before the workhouse Master. Clad only in her light shift dress and white socks she shivered in the cool night air. It was late, the other girls already in bed for the night. She alone had been requested to the punishment room. This was not the first time she had been before the Master, but on this occasion he was not alone, accompanied by a distinguished looking gentleman she did not recognise.

She knew why she was here. Knew that since her complaint about her treatment at the workhouse had not been upheld that he would make her pay. The courts hadn't believed her that the punishments meted out here were unduly harsh. Nor that they were often treated indecently, their buttocks bared for punishment.

The Master explained that his companion was Sir Abel, the local Poor Law Commissioner. He was present to witness for himself whether the workhouse treatment was too harsh or indelicate.

Both men were furious with her and determined to make her pay for her impunity in making a complaint against them and the system they worked in. Poor Eliza was to be made an example of. They made her remove all her clothes except her socks, laughing as she tried to cover her modesty and sneering was this what she called indelicate behaviour.

Then placed her with feet in the side bars of the whipping horse and ordered her to hold onto the rope across the top. In this position her bottom was nicely presented to them for the flogging. She was warned to hold still and threatened with extra strokes if she let go or moved out of position. Told to count the twenty strokes aloud.

Trembling she clutched the rope as the men each took the most senior cane available to them. A dense dragon cane, a finger thick.

The first stroke made her scream aloud and she bucked against the horse as it branded her skin rising to a furious crescendo of pain. Before she could recover from it the second landed and she took one hand off the rope. An extra stroke quickly followed as punishment, no mercy shown.

By the fourth she was crying, by the eighth sobbing. Each time she released the rope earned her an extra stroke. At ten she fell off the horse, couldn't bear it anymore. The pain was too intense, each stroke reigniting the pain of the previous ones, burning deep in her bottom. Would have done anything to stop it, to get away from them. But there was nowhere to go. They forced her back up into position and another extra stroke was delivered.

For the next ten she screamed through each one until the final two, where she could only whisper the count out, her voice so raw from pain and sobbing.

As the twenty strokes were finally counted to their satisfaction, in between the extras, she prayed they were done. Her bottom was hot and raw, covered in ugly welts. But her ordeal was to continue, the strap this time.

Ordered to place herself flat atop the horse with a cushion to raise her hips they began her torment again, taking it in turns to administer the heavy judicial strap. Long, wide and made of the thickest leather with holes bored through for delivering intense pain. She almost fell off the horse when the first stroke cracked down, covering her bottom in entirety. The next five were just as horrific as the Master, long practised with this strap, used it to maximum effect leaving her writhing and howling across the horse.

She was overwhelmed as the pain engulfed her. How was it possible to endure so much? Sir Abel next took up the strap and another six cracked down, again hard and unmerciful.

Were they done? She raised her head in hope. Only to feel the deepest despair as she realised they intended to give her another flogging with the rod. Meekly she assumed the first position again and endured the first six strokes as best she could. Crying fresh tears as the pain increased with each stroke. The next six were harder still. Criss crossing over existing stripes causing her to scream through each one. Desperately holding on, an extra stroke was inconceivable. Until it finally stopped. Until they were happy they had taught her a severe lesson not soon to be forgotten.

She was lifted down and made to apologise for daring to complain, for daring to rage against the system. Shaking and struggling to stop her tears she was a pitiful sight indeed as she gathered her clothes and was dismissed from the room, naked and clearly bearing the marks of her punishment. Both men were pleased. They had well and truly broken her and the other girls wouldn't dare to repeat her folly.

Monday, December 21

Disciplined in the Snow

HH and I have been continuing to explore my need for discipline. And this weekend I was very much in the headspace of wanting rules and repercussions, which he agreed with and was as firm as one might expect.

Although to be fair he was very patient with my usual Friday night, 'the plane's been delayed, I'm hungry, it's late, I'm hungover, I'm grumpy so deal with it,' mood. He gave me 5 minutes grace before I had to start behaving in a civilised manner. Of course I didn't realise how lucky I had been until we were nearly home and I discovered the ebony hairbrush carefully placed in the back seat!

Of course my luck, or HH might say my behaviour, was not to hold. I was tawsed out of bed on Saturday morning and spanked over the couch for failing to come to lunch on Sunday (it was a really good book!). But in the end the incident that reduced me to tears was the briefest of spankings.

He, only using his hand (as hard as it is it doesn't normally make me cry). I was crying from the pure shame of what was happening. The dread and anticipation of knowing I would be punished as he led me to a convenient seat. The frustration at my silly joke, snow down his collar, was I a 5 year old? It wasn't even funny. The realisation that he was going to spank me right there in the open. In front of our friends.

Watched with pleading eyes as he cleared a space to sit on. Reluctantly came forward as instructed but didn't dare to protest. Wished the ground would open as he pulled my jeans and panties down. Was glad to hide my embarrassed face as he tipped me over his lap. Cried silent tears as he placed snow on my already cold bottom and smacked me firmly. Tried not to make any noise or movement, so conscious of how easily spotted we could be.

When requested stood before him meekly, trousers and panties still down to my knees and whispered, 'I'm sorry sir'. Waited for permission to adjust my clothing and gratefully took my hugs of forgiveness.

And for the rest of the afternoon existed in a cocoon of warmth that only such discipline allows.

Saturday, December 19

St. Trinian's Dilemma

Dear readers I have a bit of a dilemma and I need your advice.

The eagerly awaited second St Trinian's film is out this weekend. Yay!And seeing as I'm spending the weekend with kinky friends I thought it might be cool to all go see it together. Happily HH, Abel and Haron are as keen as I am to see the delights of naughty young ladies in delicious uniforms. (Perverts, us?)

Except there is one teeny, tiny, lil drawback. HH says I can only come along if I wear my school uniform. As in full, proper uniform: white knee socks, tartan skirt, crisp blouse, tie and cardigan.

Eeek how much of a real life pervert will I look amongst the teenagers and parents with their kids. Not to mention it's the weekend so why would anyone be going to the cinema in uniform if they weren't a kinky so and so.

And of course HH will insist on exemplary behaviour for a school girl in his charge or else there'll be awfully embarrassing (and painful!) consequences while out and about. While Abel will surely cane me before we leave the house at all so I can feel the stripes burning into my poor bottom as we watch the film.

What is a girl to do? Stay home and miss all the fun? Or go out to the cinema in my uniform, nerves stretched to breaking point as I try and behave to HH's terribly high standards!

Wednesday, December 16

Juggling act

I bought a new wall calendar last week. The type where my flatmate and I can pencil in things like appointments and weekends away etc. Of course I have to write in code cos technically all my trips are meant to be to the same person to cover up what I'm actually up to. I can't really write that I'm visiting several different men and women each time!

Anyway I spent a happy 10 minutes filling in all the dates I could. I'd forgotten how busy I was in January, already I don't have any free weekends. Then there were quite a few things in February already. And I was cooking up a plan for March and then there's that weekend sorted for April and a whiff of another in May.

And right then I was torn between wanting to rush off and plan more things to fill my calendar completely and the niggling thought I should probably try and slow down a bit. As much I love all my weekends away the fact that they tend to be very intense, both emotionally and physically, and involve travel, means they are taking their toll on me. Coupled with the crazy hours I'm working, it's no coincidence that right now I'm sick, yet again.

It's a subject that the lovely Eliane brought up yesterday as she provided sympathy over IM. That I need to slow down, travel less and pretty much do less full stop. Although there was a lot of the pot calling the kettle black in that exchange as we both advised the other to slow down and take it easy!

But it's all easier said than done. I've wanted this freedom in my kinky life for so long. I've dreamed about having such close relationships with like-minded kinksters, of playing such mind blowing scenes, of having such comfort and friendship. Realising I really, really need this. Now that I have the life I've wanted all these years I don't want to lose it. I don't want to miss out on anything.

And I refuse to give up my vanilla life either. Not my friends, or family or my job. So what gives? How do I keep all the balls in the air without them crashing down on my head?

Monday, December 14

Succumbing to a Meme

The lovely Graham the girl (TM) has come up with her own meme and seeing as she went to so much effort I thought I should respond to it. That and the fact my head is so muddled up from the flu/lack of sleep and too many hangovers in such close proximity that I'm not capable of blogging anything else!

1. Tell us your
Kinsey rating! (That is, where you fall, approximately, on the spectrum of sexuality, with zero being "only attracted to members of the opposite sex" and six being "only attracted to members of the same sex." Follow the link for the full breakdown.)

Right now I'd describe it as 1.75. I'm at a very curious stage and my first forays across the line have been very lovely and certainly something I want to repeat. But I'm not sure if that's just certain people I'm attracted to or whether I am actually bi-sexual. And it's definitely related to my kink - I'm attracted to dominant girls or at least those who are dominant with me.

2. Spanking / BDSM "type" that suits you best (switch, top, masochist, grand-master-wizard, etc.):

Certainly a bottom, but very a strong yearning towards a submissive.

3. Favorite blog / site of the moment (kinky/spanking-themed):

I love all blogs equally, although I am more in love with some than others at various times. But Filthy Gorgeous Things is one that I'm really loving lately, if only for the fabness of the name.

4. Favorite non-kinky blog / site of the moment:

Not sure I have one right now. Tend to be pretty much on kinky sites when I'm online. Possibly Stephen Fry's blog, which is actually the only non-kinky blog I read. Unless Twitter counts? But then I'm mostly kinky on there too. Might need to expand my horizons a bit more!

5. Latest spanking fantasy floating in your head:

Oh I have one but I can't tell cos it's part of someone's Christmas present. Actually I have two but both are for different somone's Christmas presents. I promise to come back after Christmas and write them up though!

6. Blogger you'd like to spank / be spanked by:

Well if I follow Graham's example and think of the people on my blog roll who haven't spanked me then that leaves Ludwig and I really would like to be caned by him :)

7. Age when you lost your (consensual, adult) spanking virginity — if this has yet to happen, give us a prediction or goal!

I was 20 and I still have a scar from the side of his leather belt catching me high on my bottom. I shall cherish that symbolic mark forever!

8. Favorite literary reference (excluding spanking stories!):

Sometimes I wonder was I kinky before I read Enid Blyton or did she make me kinky. But nearly all her books have the most fabulous spanking references in them, particularly the Magic Faraway Tree series. Here's just one of hundreds of references:

They all peered down the tree. Yes -it was Watzisname climbing up, looking very angry. The Saucepan Man leaned over rather too far, and nearly fell. Dick just caught him in time-but one of his kettles came loose and fell down. It bounced from branch to branch and landed on poor old Watzisname's big head!

He gave a tremendous yell. "What! Is it you, Saucepan, throwing all these things down the tree. What you want is a spanking. And you'll get it? And anybody else up there playing tricks will get a fine fat spanking, too!"

"A spanking!" said Dame Washalot's voice.

"A SPANKING!" roared the Angry Pixie not far behind.

"Golly!" said Jo in alarm. "It looks as if the Land of Spankings is about to arrive up here. I vote we go. You'd better shut your door, Moon-Face, and you and Silky and Saucepan had better lie down on the sofa and the bed and pretend to be asleep. Then maybe those angry people will think it's somebody up in the Land of Goodies that has been throwing all those things down."

9. Strangest limit:

Being made to get down on my hands and knees and spread my legs while being spanked. I got hit with a bull whip in a very intimate place in that position once and really freeze when told to present like that.

10. Some Random Vanilla Trivia, in the grand tradition of memehood... Like, "what are you listening to right now," or "what's your favorite fruit," or anything similarly banal.

Eating a box of quality street to make me feel better. I like all the ones that are leftover in the tin that no-one else wants, like the coffee and strawberry and orange ones!

Thursday, December 10


I was at a gig during the week at The Academy. Now those of you who know of Dublin's monthly BDSM club, Nimhneach will know that it's held in the basement of The Academy. (Topcat really loves how appropriate the name is when we go as a school!)

The gig wasn't actually held in the basement room where the club is on, but afterwards Lollipop and I ended up down there with another friend who was collecting her coat.

While our friend queued, I gave Lollipop a tour, filling in all the missing bits.

'It's usally much darker so you can barely see, bit of a drawback when you're getting whacked sometimes'

'Over here there's usually a cage'

'And here DommyDarco usually has StellePerversa all tied up with a whole load of ropes'

'Oh and just here would be the A Frame [cue puzzled look from Lollipop] tie people to it to beat them'

'And at this very spot, I had my first public spanking'

It was lots of fun to be poking around there and Lollipop was being a very good sport letting me give her far too much information. Truth is I miss Nimhneach. As much as I'm usually having lots of other kinky fun the weekeds I can't be there. It was the first public gathering of kinksters I ever attended and have met so many lovely people there over the past year.

And it's not made any easier knowing that it's going to be at least March before I'll be at Nimhneah again, seems like a very long time away :(

Tuesday, December 8

Blast from the past

I made a startling discovery during my last visit to HH. You see HH is an avid collector of books. The vanilla kind and the kinky kind and the in between kind. I.e. the ones that a fellow pervert would recognise as a kinky book masquerading amongst the vanilla ones but unless you're from the same predilection you wouldn't notice.

So in HH's house I spend many a quiet moment browsing the book shelves looking for the in between stuff hidden openly amongst the classics and modern novels and history books.

But on my last visit I was in the mood for something downright kinky and ventured into the secret kinky library where all the explicit books live.

And there I found the following book!

For those of you not familiar with The Mahound it describes a Scotsman's adventures in Africa where he has a harem of slave girls to cultivate and take sexual pleasure from. Any girl who displeases him or the King gets soundly whipped and the main protagonista is Mary, an English girl captured by the King's men and is routinely beaten because she refuses to give in to the King's sexual demands. In short it's a very kinky book!

And I was very shocked to see it in HH's private kinky library. Not because it was out of place there, no not at all. But because I had read that book many years ago. When I was 10 or 11 in fact (I was an advanced reader for my age)!

It belonged to my Mother and was one of many similar books I discovered hidden at home over the years. And the long held and deeply buried suspicion that my Mother is kinky came bubbling to the surface again. Causing me to have a miniature freak out.

I really don't want to have my suspicions confirmed!

Monday, December 7

Out of control

There's been a few posts on the issue of control over the past week, from my post on power exchange to Eliane and Indy's interesting comments in response to it and then Eliane's own post on the matter. In that post she writes that even in play she doesn't think she could give up control in the same way I do.

But I have to confess that giving up control isn't easy for me to do either. And it only happens with a few select people that I completely trust and have a certain dynamic with. Even then it's still difficult and doesn't happen every time we play. Which can lead to me being disappointed not to reach that high flying state that deep submission leads me to, even if the scene itself was great.

And sometimes I find myself falling into no-man's land. A place where I seem to be out of control; not fully immersed into the role to be entirely submissive, nor fully in control of myself to be reasonable and rational.

As bad enough as it when I'm playing with one top, when you introduce other tops and bottoms into the mix it really complicates things. I'm beginning to wonder if that state of giving up absolute control can ever really happen in a group scene. I'm too easily distracted or pulled out of my headspace by the actions of others. Actions that are in no way meant to be a distraction but end up being so anyway.

I've long since noticed that my behaviour changes around other bottoms. I'll be more stoic, more silent, more determined not to cry and more frustrated when the pain gets to me. More resistant to being submissive and yet more angry with my failure to be submissive.

And a couple of times now I have found myself getting tremendously angry either during or after a scene. Throwing a strop over the slightest thing, being furious that the play hasn't gone the way I imagined it, lashing out at the nearest person to me.

This always leads to me feeling ashamed afterwards, that I've let people down, guilty I've ruined the scene or upset the other players. And I get annoyed at myself for being so out of control that I can't temper my words or actions.

It's a subject I've been discussing with HH and as usual he always has an answer to make me feel better. His take on it is that a person who endeavours to give up total control to play and submit can't be then expected to exercise control when their emotions take over, or the intensity of the scene gets to them.

I'll concede that it's a fair point but it doesn't make me feel any better when I'm mentally beating myself up over a scene. Although it does help that he and I have agreed how such behaviour should be dealt with to both help me learn the lesson and also forgive myself afterwards. Time out from the scene followed by the conclusion of it. Or else a period of time afterwards to calm down and then being punished severely, as was the case during this particular episode.

But I can't help wishing I could put a stop to it, that I could be in control, even when I'm not.

Sunday, December 6


We'd had a long and relatively harsh day of play. By the time evening fell bottoms were sore and tender, welts still clearly visible, early bruises beginning to rise. Tops were tired from their exertions and a lovely peace prevailed.

As the time to retire neared, bedtime spankings were decreed. Not a concern usually, I like such spankings, love to go to bed with a hot and sore bottom, especially when cuddles are on offer.

But this wasn't just to be a nice OTK spanking. No we had to face our own individual nemeses. For me that's HH's heavy size 10 plimsoll slipper. An implement that terrifies me. I cannot be brave for it, cannot be stoic and always reduced to tears after only a few strokes.

Jeans and knickers down I bent over the arm of the sofa and presented my already sore bottom to HH. Dread building I tried to brace myself. He fussed over my positioning until he felt his target was properly placed. Abel sat on the sofa and took my hands, holding me tight. The first stroke slammed down, HH's full weight behind it. A scream from me as the force of it pushed me up and over the sofa arm.

The familiar sickness descended as I thought in terror of 5 more to go from him and then 6 from Abel and as number 2 hit home I burst into tears. Pain exploding again. Struggled to get back into position for each of the remaining 4.

The slipper is truly my nemesis. It makes me wish I wasn't kinky, so terrified waiting for each stroke to land and feeling such relief when it's over.

As I sagged from HH's 6 my respite was short lived, Abel took up the slipper, this time HH holding me down. 6 more in quick succession, all horrendously painful. Sobbing throughout and cathartic relief when it was done.

All the time Catherine had been silently watching. Her turn now, and her own nemesis, the dressage whip. Over the sofa she went as I held her hands and tried to provided comfort as the whip was sliced into her bottom and thighs. First Abel then HH. Her cries were both distressing and captivating. Not for the first time I felt huge admiration for her bravery and strength.

We had face our nemeses and survived. Time for bed right?

Except Cath popped upstairs and returned with the Malacca style walking stick, curiosity permeating from her. My face dropped when I saw her with it. Silly, silly girl!

Over she went again, and the Malacca walking stick was viciously applied to her bottom, Abel and HH alternating in batteries of 12. I held her tight, for the first time observing an obvious struggle to take a punishment, but she held on taking at least 24.

Then my turn, just 12 but how painful. The knobbly bits of the stick cut into my flesh, tender as it was already. Tears came again easily as I tried to be brave.

Then Cath's turn again, 4 sets of 12 strokes in quick succession from each top. Watched in fascination as she struggled to take each set, cried out loud, moved out of position but still took them again and again until she was pleading and promising to behave. Empathised as she collapsed on the chair afterwards composing herself, her breathing ragged, and then grinned back at her as she raised her head her eyes glinting merrily at me. Laughed aloud as asked for another 2 strokes to make the round 50.

Was I done? Was she done? We had faced our nemesis and discovered another one to think about. Surely we were done. But the adrenalin was coursing and the tops took their cue from us.

One more time for me, the walking stick and the slipper until I caved and promised to behave. Held out for the first 12, stubbornly refusing to say it, even as I sobbed through each stroke, comforted and reassured by Cath holding me. As the last 6 started my resolve broke, time to give in, to promise to behave. Enough.

And the last time for Cath, slipper this time, slammed into her full force first by Abel and then HH. Until they called time, as sensible tops do, even though we may have felt we could have take a more our bottoms were welted and bruised enough.

And slept all night on my tummy, subdued and sated. Beaten, but not beaten, ready to fight another day with my nemesis.

Friday, December 4

Power exchange

I find power exchange within a scene very hot. As in I have no power and the toppy type has it all. In such cases I surrender all control and yield to their will: either willingly or forced, the outcome is always the same.

When I first started chatting with HH we talked about power exchange a lot. How I thought I could easily submit to legitimate power, i.e. teachers, policemen, guards, judges etc. But illegitimate power e.g. perverted priests, gangsters and so on would illicit a negative response: stubbornness and defiance.

Even though in both scenarios I'd be soundly beaten and eventually be broken, the dynamic would be very different. Ultimately though, both forms of power exchange in play usually lead to great head space and therefore great scenes!

However power exchange in real life is a very different matter. While I like to play submissive roles in play I have always been adamant that a 24/7 lifestyle is not for me. And in my real life I am not at all submissive. I am quite the opposite.

I like, no, I need to be in control. Because when you're not in control you get hurt. Like in some work situations, managers and clients can have too much power over you and you need to steel yourself to not over-react to their criticism and their doubting of you. Otherwise at the worst they will own you, and at the very least they will cause you to lose confidence in yourself.

Or when you can't control your feelings. When you give them free reign to wash over friends and lovers, giving them the power to abuse those feelings and the trust you place in them. When you give someone your heart you do so at the risk of them breaking it.

The dynamic of friendship can be complicated. I have long since decided, (since I left school in fact), that I would only be friends with those who I like, enjoy their company and trust. No more forced or false friendships.

This has served me very well in the past year as I have explored this thing we do. Naturally gravitating towards the people I had most in common with. Not necessarily from a kink point of view, but a set of values, a similar sense of purpose and a certain trust. Apart from a very early slip up where I didn't follow my instincts, I feel I have done quite well in this scene.

But it's not always easy. In every group, work, family or friend, it's all too easy to have an unequal power dynamic. Someone always holds the reigns. As much as you try or think you are playing by the rules there are always circumstances outside your control. Circumstances that leaves you powerless.

In these cases I feel very frustrated. My natural instinct is to rage against the machine, while my cautious side urges caution and the longer term view. How often feedback in my performance reviews has been to reflect more, act and say less. So many times friends have said calm down, stop being so sensitive, don't react.

But no matter what my response is, whether explosive and reactive or calm and reflective, I recognise the power exchange for what it is. And all I can do is focus on how I can eliminate it. My submission is not 24/7 and I do not allow others to have power over me easily. In real life I do not want anyone to have the power to make me doubt my self worth or to make me feel inadequate.

Is the very fact that such power exchanges repulse me so much in real life what makes them so hot in a scene?

Wednesday, December 2

It's Indy, but not as we know her!

I'd just like to say a HUGE welcome to the blogosphere to the fabulous Indy, Queen of Comments and Lovely Tweeter. I and many other scene friends have been long encouraging and dare I say anticipating this day.

Now dear readers, to make sure she doesn't change her mind and deprive us of her beautiful and interesting thoughts, pop over and say nice things to her at Not So Submissive so she'll feel bad if she doesn't continue!

Seriously though I really am delighted that Indy has started her own blog, she's been such a fabulous commentator on everyone else's. I haven't been writing on the online sphere myself for that long but she's been a wonderful support both on here and on Winterbrook and that means so much when faced with a blank screeen, a great idea and no words!

Hurrah for Indy :)

Tuesday, December 1

Obsessive much?

I've always thought bottom types were the more obsessive of the playing partners. You know in the whole planning scenes, organising events and getting the perfect outfit together.

But I've never given tops much credit in the obsessive stakes. (Well of course apart from their obsession with collecting the most painful implements imaginable.) Recent events, however, have made me reassess these original assumptions.

Back in September we discussed the possibilty of a scene involving Abel, HH, Catherine, Haron and me. Being inspired by my recent scene with the aforementioned fearsome toppy where I was given no details in advance, we floated out the the idea of them devising a scene and telling us bottom types nothing about it. A date was agreed upon and that was it. The bottom half thought no more of it.

On the other hand, the toppy duo thought lots more about it. In fact they've been scheming for the past two months over it. Every so often giving a little update that plans were progressing well.

Just this week we were given a brief character background and instructions on the type of clothing to get, but no more than that. Apparently they're still planning and finalising the details. At this stage I have visions of them working on some 100 page document with the scene strategy in it!

And the scary thing is we don't know that they're planning. My imagination is running to very scary places and I don't know which is worse: knowing the details and dreading what's to come, or not knowing and dreading what might happen. Is my mind more perverted and sadistic than the combined might of Abel's and HH's? Probaby not, feck! And eeek now I'm obsessing!

Wednesday, November 25

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?

Tuesday, November 24

The Fecking French!

No this is not another Regency post, although we all did professe to hate the French over the weekend too, Napolean was a bit of a pain back then.

And really it's not so much the French, as one man, Thierry the fecker Henry that I'm pissed off at. Not only did he deny our brave lil soccer team from progressing to the World Cup finals through the daylight robbery of a double hand balling, the bastard. Oh no it wasn't enough to dash the hopes of a nation in the depths of recession and a climate that Jesus himself hadn't miracles enough to have improved.

No, not content with all that, the bastard then went and got me spanked. For bad language. In public. In front of young children to be precise. Abel was not pleased to hear me shout 'that fucking, asshole' in the local pub we were having lunch in. Not that Henry the fecker was actually in the pub. No he just appeared on the TV and that was enough. God knows what punishment I'd have gotten if I'd had the chance to punch the asshole.

As it was I got dragged home and led upstairs. A short lecture where I had to agree that one must mind one's language in public, especially when children are present. Even if provoked.

In resignation and with some fear watched as he removed his belt. Without fuss, quietly bent over the bed, knickers down, skirt up as instructed. Struggled through 6 fierce strokes of the belt across my bottom.

Hated that I was being disciplined. Eagerly rushed into his arms for comforting hugs and forgiveness.

Fucking French!

From the diary of Lady Grace Altamount

I have just taken a peek at Cousin Francesca's diary. (If she will leave it lying around it only serves as an invitation to read her most intimate thoughts!) I was very pleased to learn that she truly had enjoyed Lord Fawcett's party, as indeed had I.

Although we were nervous on our arrival, the charming company and luxurious surroundings put us both immediately at ease. We were grateful that both our fathers had been generous in our clothing allowance and we were dressed as finely as the other young ladies. Although it was noted that Miss Dorothea Latimer, a delightful and handsome young lady, wore dresses of the finest silks and most modern styles. It appeared that the rumours of her vast wealth were indeed true.

Mrs Derby, as our chaperone was very particular to oversee our preparations and seemed very pleased with our appearance. With a parting reminder on posture and manners she dismissed us to go down and meet the other guests.

However, I was very quickly to learn some news that did not sit well with me at all. Dearest Papa in some fit of lunacy had engaged Sir Abel Cadogan, newly appointed Chief Punishment Officer of England, to act as my disciplinarian. To my absolute horror Sir Abel felt the need to demonstrate his discipline techniques both first thing in the morning and last thing at night and nothing less than a painful dose of the cane would do. Although I must confess it the only cloud on an otherwise wonderful weekend.

As we mingled with the other guests before dinner on the first evening, I was to learn more fortunate news. Mrs Derby had found me a suitor that she felt would both please me and make me a most fortuitous match. Although the young man himself was not in attendance, I had the pleasure of meeting his father, Mr Conningsby. To my astonishment I discovered he was an American.

It was so very exciting hear his tales form the New World and he seemed quite taken with me. He felt my spirit would serve me well in the New World and I eagerly told him of my pirate connections which amused him more than it had Lord Fawcett.

With this lovely prospect of escaping the clutches of Sir Abel, I happily was escorted into dinner by the charming Lord Plymouth. A quite accomplished man he was recently engaged to Lady Charlotte Carlise and they were due to be married that very week. If we were surprised at their haste it was not talked of, much.

At dinner I had the honour of seating to the left of Lord Fawcett and felt the compliment exceedingly. The delightful Lady Cecily De Burgh was seated across from me and dinner passed most pleasantly. Of course all of society was aware of her recent incarceration in the Lowewood Reformatory. However, apart form some slight remarks, not much was talked of this.. Lady Cecily being so pretty and rich was enough to overcome such a scandal.

Dinner was a truly sumptuous affair and I tasted the delights of finely prepared fish, hare soup and exquisite quail. After dinner the Ladies retired to the drawing room and enjoyed a small glass of port as we awaited the gentlemen. I was delighted to make the further acquaintance of Lady Emma Cavendish, a lady of such beauty she is renowned in three countries.

And such was the order of the weekend, fine company, delightful amusements and exquisite food. When not in the company of the gentlemen we ladies spent our time in the quiet pursuits of needlework, letter writing and reading. I had been fortunate to receive a folio of an unknown writer by the name of Jane Austen, simply titled Persuasion. I was enthralleed by the utter romance of the novel and dearly hoped she would publish some day.

To our interest we learned that each lady present was assigned one of the gentlemen to act as her champion and defend her honour. My heartfelt sympathies went out to Francesca as Sir Abel was named as hers and my fears were confirmed as he spanked her at dinner on the second night! Although in a strange reversal of behaviour it was I who confiscated her wine and urged her to behave herself. Perhaps Sir Abel was having an effect afterall.

I myself was under the protection of Lord Dorchester, a wonderful, charming young man with an eye for Miss Latimer. However, I was startled to learn he played fast and loose with my honour and at the card tables had indebted himself to the sum of 87 guineas to Mr Conninsgby. For which I was fofeited to make the repayment.

It was with great fortune that Mr Conningsby had by now made up his mind that I was suitable marriage material for his son Fenwick Conninsby II, and was therefore as interested in my honour as I was myself. He did however subject me to a thorough inspection to ascertain my breeding qualities. And also gave a firm display of the discipline that he and his son were in agreement upon.

The festivities finally concluded with a ball, my absolute favorite pastime in the world. I happily was engaged for several dances with the dashing Viscount Fitzwarren. It was quite a thrill to learn a new dance from the Americas called a waltz. To our shock the gentlemen put their hands on out person as we danced, how racy indeed.

The Viscount proved an accomplished dancer and at first a seemingly mellow man . But when I was put over his knee and firmly spanked for trying to lead him in the waltz, I had to hastily revise my early judgement of him.

So it was with very heavy hearts we departed in our carriage, our weekend of fun and frolics at an end. What a wrench to depart from such charming and wonderful company. I was even sorry to bade farewell to Sir Abel, even if we did give me 18 hard cane strokes to remind me of him. Still despite the sorrow we were overflowing with joy at been invited and Cousin Francesca and I both felt very lucky indeed and forever indebted to Lord Fawcett and Mrs Derby.

Wednesday, November 18

Keep on 'hitting' me!

Over night when I was fast asleep my blog reached 100,000 hits! And I'm incredibly excited about that.

When I started this blog back in May I was so worried that no-one would read it, let alone comment on it. And I was a lil afraid I'd give up this blogging lark after just a few days!

But back then I didn't realise how addicted I'd get to writing. And certainly never considered how good it would be for me to have an outlet to order and process my thoughts. I have to admit that I really love my lil blog and so thrilled so many of you like it too.

So thanks for all your comments and support and I hope you stay with me, I'm not blogged out yet!

Here's a lil pic of one of my latest canings to enjoy. Want to guess who painted those lovely lines across my bottom?

Tuesday, November 17

The truth shall set you free

So I bit the bullet and told another 'nilla about my secret life. Lets call her Morena. I'd been thinking of telling her for a long time. I've known her almost ten years and she's a very chilled and easy going person and one of my closest friends. Deep down I knew she'd probably be fine with it, but the doubt was always there. That fear of a negative reaction. Of being ridiculed.

Funnily it was so often on the tip of my tongue to tell her, but I couldn't get the words out. It didn't help that very early on I tried to suss her out by saying I'd met some new friends online. The friends at the time being Frank and Caroline. When she reacted by asking me was I swinging I was very much put off, believing my fears proven, she wouldn't understand.

When we met last week I hadn't planned on telling her. There wasn't even any wine involved either! But as she asked about my weekends away, both past and upcoming I was suddenly weary of all the lying. Lately I've been feeling very overwhelmed by living this secret life. As much as I try to keep the details to a minimum and share only the activities that are non-kinky, it still involves some lying on my part. (Expert lying I might add but that's another day's post.) So in this mood of wanting to be honest I told her and nervously awaited her response.

It was not what I expected. Not only was she perfectly fine with it, she was actually interested! Delighted almost. Curious certainly. And she admitted to some skeletons in her own closest that we giggled over too.

Her only issue was how I could have kept it from her for so long. It was difficult to explain the fear behind my secrecy, especially in the face of her own openness and understanding. And when I told her of my early attempts to tell her, she admitted she had suspected something kinky but not in a negative way at all.

I haven't told her many details, just that I'm into a lot of kinky stuff, some sexual and some not so sexual. That I play with different people, in roleplay and re-enactments. She urged me to go for it and do whatever made me happy, assuring me it wasn't weird at all. And was positively envious of the upcoming Regency House Party. We discussed my blog and she asked for the link but I told her I wasn't ready for that yet. Mostly because I'm not sure she understands how honest I am on here, how much I tell and whether she'd be comfortable with reading some of my more intense scenes. That most of my play is not sexual, that it's the deep emotional reaction that I crave and that I can suffer a lot of pain in the process.

Telling her made me feel wonderful, not only to have told her but to see her react so positively. I felt the two sides of me fused a lil bit more and gave me hope that one day I won't have any secrets from my close friends. Something I dearly wish.

So now I think I may tell another one, but not just yet. Carefully does it and all that. Still I'm emboldened by Morena's reaction, even if she did get slightly upset when I called her vanilla. Oooops!

Monday, November 16

All in the preparation

Lord Fawcett's annual Regency House Party is merely days away and I am very excited! I'm also a little hassled as I finish my preparations for attending. Of course I only have to sort myself out so can only imagine what Jessica's stress levels are like as she sorts everything and everybody out, I am in awe!

My hassles are mainly cos I either can't find the stuff I did have or realising I don't have everything I should have. That's despite Bex and Jessica lending me all my dresses and the fact I've been shopping for months! I still had to run around town on Saturday buying last minute bits and pieces. Making my luggage even heavier, and my purse much, much lighter. But I couldn't resist one more pair of stockings, and two more hairpieces, and just another pair of gloves and a third pashmina...

Then there was the great shoe debacle where I couldn't find my shoes for my green ballgown. Two days, a trip home to raid the sister's wardrobe, an unsuccessful shopping trip and much cursing later I finally discovered them hidden in the back of my wardrobe. (Although Lord knows who put them there???!) Today's drama was over not having a big enough suitcase for all of the above. *SIGH*

Now, I only have a few outstanding chores to do. Some light sewing, just a few minor alterations to my dresses. Then there's deciding which of my hundred pairs of underwear I need to bring with me.

And lastly, but very importantly I have to brush up on the history and manners of the period. Lady Grace is not a blue stocking by any means but she must have some idea of the politics of her day. She did live in Ireland in very interesting times with the Act of Union and all that. Then there's the manners of the day to swot up on.

To this end I'll be studying a Brief Guide to the Regency that Jessica helpfully supplied. As well as watching Pride and Prejudice. The BBC drama version. You know, six hours of Colin Firth being all domly, mmmm. The lengths one must go to in the name of being prepared...

Saturday, November 14

Under the influence

I'm a very excitable girl, both in real life and kinky life. If you've met me you'll probably confirm that. Most of the time I'm all energy and sometimes that energy converts to mischief, either at work or out with vanilla friends or with my kinky friends. And if I'm playing I'll be even more hyper and energetic. But mostly this is all good. People invite me back to things so obviously they like me either for or in spite of this!

One thing I've very conscious of, after 10 years of being me, that my natural energy or hyperness can be seriously compounded by alcohol. After only a few glasses of wine I'll be dancing on the tables, doing an eight-hand reel, challenging everyone else to a shot drinking game, setting up an impromptu game of rugby etc. etc. And again, my vanilla friends mostly indulge me in these lapses of good behaviour. Some go as far to even encourage me, but that's another discussion.

Getting into to all the kinky parties and events I've been very careful not to consume too much alcohol at them. For a start it's not safe when playing with people you can't trust to be careful, like playing with strangers or clubs, or people you've never played with before.

But really I don't need the alcohol. I'm generally buzzing off the people and atmosphere around me and getting high on the play. I was always a little afraid of what might happen if I did have a lot of alcohol and was around this high energy group and then played as well. Would it be explosive?

Eliane's party last weekend for Graham the Girl (TM) was the test for me. As has been noted on other blogs it was a very fun and merry party and I was one of the most merry there (although Eliane was not far behind me!). In our defence, a weak one at that, we did start drinking ages before anyone else, and champagne goes straight to our heads!

Actually I was horrendously drunk at the party, to the point of not remembering much the next day. I know I had a great time. I know I danced in my underwear, I also know that I was not the only one and suspect I was the ringleader in this. I know I had lots of long and rambling conversations with the girls, that there was lots of girly cuddling and such and I know that I played a few scenes.

The scary thing was having to be reminded what those scenes were. Conversations with Eliane and Graham went something like this:

'I spilled your vintage champagne Elaine? Oh well, if you will leave it in my way.'

'I had 35 cane strokes? Really? From who? Oh Jessica and Abel? Together, one for each cheek? That must have been a great scene? Oh it was...'

'I was counting out the strokes very disrespectfully to Abel ? One your highness, one your ladyship? Ha that must have been hilarious. Oh, it was? Hmmm wish I'd been there...'

'Jessica broke the 14 euro (actually 17!) kitchen implement while whacking someone?' Oh wow, poor bottom, who's was it? Oh mine? Right, that must have hurt!'

'Someone tried to whack another girl with the broken implement? And had to be ordered to put it down before she hurt someone? Silly girl, who was that? Oh me, again...'

'I spilled your vintage champagne Elaine? Another glass? Oh still going on about it, get over it, accidents will happen!'
And the more that these incidences that were recounted to me, the more my shame grew. Oh whatever about being drunk and making everyone else dance in their undies, or not remembering plans that were made for the next day, or giving senseless advice to a poor darling that hardly needed it or even having a little weep cos I was too drunk, sure I can live with all of that. But not remembering some amazing and hot scenes, that's unforgivable.

Monday, November 9

Suffering for their art

So Eliane and I duly met with Jon Thorn to act out some Winterbrook scenes. Here's a brief overview of what we got up to.


Charlotte and Lucy duly attended for their appointment with Sir George and he was terribly harsh with them. Firstly Charlotte was given her punishment for leaving the house without permission. He did not readily believe that she had just gotten lost in the search for a different quality of air. Oh how he spluttered at that one.

10 hard strokes rained down on her bottom, with not even a hand spanking to warm her up.

Then Lucy was punished for her lack of manners and oh how she made it worse by her continuous answering back. Charlotte despaired for her.

But it didn't end there. Sir George decided a punishment imposition was called for. Each were given several pens and a sheet of paper along with a list of precise instructions for writing the essay the title of which was "The efficacy of Corporal Punishment in instilling virtue and manners in a young lady"

1. The essay shall cover one side of one sheet of paper.
2. You will rule a left margin, in green, of exactly one inch..
3. The title shall be doubly underlined in blue.
4. The rest of the essay shall be written in pencil.
5. Your name shall be written in the top right hand corner and the bottom left hand corner.
6. There shall be no mistakes in spelling, grammar or layout, no crossings out or corrections.
Immediately Charlotte was in trouble for writing her title before ruling her margin. A swift spanking over the knee ensued. Then it was unlucky Lucy who wrote her title in blue instead of underlining it in blue. She too got spanked.

After many false starts and interruptions for whispering and making mistakes, Charlotte managed to finish her essay. Unfortunately writing one big sentence in large letters across the page was not well received with Sir George. Another spanking for her now tender bottom. Cruelly he continued to spank her until Lucy finished her own essay, but that didn't pass muster either.

Poor Charlotte and Lucy thought they might be there all night but Sir George also despaired of that and decided to thrash them both soundly. And so Lucy got a paddling and then 40 with a strap.

Then Charlotte, as the elder, who should really have set an example to her wayward little sister, got a lengthily and hard caning. Such a red and sore bottom she had, 85 strokes later....

Saturday, November 7

Method writing

We little band of writers at Winterbrook are such perfectionists about our writing. Not only do we agonise for ages over what to write and whether it's worth reading at all (well at least I do anyway!) but we feel the scenes must be as realistic as possible.

OK so we may not be always historically accurate or write in exactly the Edwardian language of the time, but we do try.

But where we can ensure we are being as true is possible, is to describe the punishment scenes realistically. Unfortunately for us, the only way for that to happen is to play out the scenes with each other. Yes, we need to experience very sore bottoms indeed in this quest for accuracy!

Therefore it is with some reluctance (well actually no reluctance at all!!) that Charlotte and Lucy are presenting themselves to Sir George today to taste his cane for real.

I do hope our dear readers appreciate the sacrifices that Eliane and I make for our writing.

Thursday, November 5

Having the last word

When I'm not doing very intense, serious scenes as described in my last post, I do tend to have a lil fun during my play. Admittedly that doesn't happen that often with HH. We're both deep headspace players and prefer to play that way with each other. I keep bratting to a minimum, unless there is somone else around to spark off and even then I don't go too far, as I know he doesn't like it.

But the other morning as he was unsuccessfully trying to get me out of bed (hey I was tired and it was only 10am!) my brattiness surfaced. Upon hearing he was going to give me a gentle wake-up spanking, I pouted and turned away muttering grumpily that I didn't care, it still wouldn't wake me up.

Upon hearing that my gentle spanking had just been increased to something more severe I still pouted brattily. And even when the horrid slipper was raining down on my bottom, I tried to pretend I was still asleep. Of course I counted myself very lucky that he was whacking me at close range. It still hurt, but no comparison to when I'm bent over and he throws his full weight behind it!

It was actually kinda nice, even if it did sting. When he'd done he leaned over for a hug and we cuddled and that's when I tried to get the last word in, telling him I hoped he'd learned his lesson, that'd he think twice about waking me up again, that the grumpiness was hardly worth it.

His resulting laughter lulled me into a false sense of security and I grinned at him cheekily. Even when he got off the bed I didn't suspect anything until he returned, with a cane! The pure evilness of it all shocked me to the core. Oh the injustice.

Over the pillows with my knickers down I had to go and endure several sharp cuts of the cane. Although I must admit it did little to improve my grumpiness, but I took it bravely. Some might say defiantly. Still I was glad when he was done and ready for a proper hug.

But oh no, apparently I was now sufficiently awake, but still too grumpy for his liking. I watched him set the straight backed chair in the centre of the room and tried not to throw a tantrum when he picked up the heavy hairbrush. I was genuinely confused how I came from a gentle hand spanking to this (via a caning and slippering!).

Thankfully he kept it relatively short and I decided to give up the grumpiness and brattiness for a while. Bloody hairbrushes are my undoing and well he knows it. Still, I like to fantasise that I indeed had had the last word and that it was him that learned his lesson, not me. Hmmm a girl can dream...