Wednesday, September 30


I really enjoyed all the comments about my scene with Abel and HH. It was gratifying to think I managed to convey the intensity of the scene. Something I often find hard to do.

Chatting to HH last night we laughed over those who jokingly said I was 'insane' or 'brave' to play with he and Abel at once. Of course I was neither.

By now I have played with both countless times and as their reputations speak louder than I can, both are two of the most experienced players in the scene. And the more I've played with them the better they know me, can read my reactions and know what I need.

And while as a duo they are very terrifying to the scene character, to me, Emma Jane, I feel safer than any other scene. When I play with both of them, the one not whacking me is observing, reading things he with the cane cannot see. Picking up on whether the screams mean I need to stop, whether the tears are good, whether my skin is actually suffering serious damage.

Therefore, knowing both of them are there, allows me to completely and utterly switch off, give up every ounce of control. It allows me to go very, very deep into head space. And when I'm that deep no matter how hard you beat me I won't safeword. I have gone past that.

Which is why HH paused in that scene before he caned me, to check for himself if I could carry on. My look giving him the signal be needed. And when we continued I was safe again knowing that this time, Abel was watching me carefully.

So having two tops there acts as an extra safety net; having Abel and HH together is the ultimate freedom. Going that deep with someone I didn't absolutely trust, now that would be insane.

Tuesday, September 29

Dealing with the drop

The dreaded 'drop' is something I've had to get used as a major downside of all these great weekends. Not only my own drop but everyone else's around me. On Sunday evening after many friends had departed and there were only a few of us left we all dropped collectively while out for dinner. Struggling to make conversation, trying not to think about the ever nearing Monday.

And when we got back to the house I found myself faced with re-packing my case with so much less enthusiasm than it had been originally packed. The tears came suddenly, taking me by surprise. I was very glad to be alone. While the logical side of me knew it was just a release that I needed, I'm very shy about crying in front of people outside of a scene.

Happily exhaustion soon claimed me from feeling sorry for myself and I collapsed into bed, knowing that would be the worst of the drop for me. For I have discovered a way around it: sheer exhaustion.

Most of these weekends I return to Dublin at the crack of dawn, heading straight into work. It means I'm barely awake enough to function at a physical level, let alone at an emotional one. Having to go straight into work and put on the responsible, grown-up hat while fighting the tiredness as another manic day claims me. Then to home and write and write until I feel sated, before collapsing into bed again.

It meant that by the time today rolled around I was delightedly musing over the weekend and giggling at the goings on, ruefully surveying the marks and bruises and flying high again!

Monday, September 28

The error of her ways

I knew when Jenkins summoned me that the time for punishment had come. His anger emanated in waves as he hauled me roughly into Sir Henry's study. Although his voice was sharp with me, he very respectful to his Lordship.

I trembled as I was made to stand before them both, my eyes downcast on the floor.

Jenkins explained that I had been found 5 miles away on the road to London with several pieces of the family silver on my person, but that her Ladyship's jewels were not to be found. He grabbed my hair as he spoke, and forced me to look at his Lordship.

"Tell his Lordship where her Ladyships's jewels are" he ordered. I could not find my voice and looked at him mutely, until I felt a sharp slap across my face. It was followed swiftly by another until I babbled that I had only taken the silver, not the jewels.

"A likely story, m'Lord", Jenkins pulled my hair even tighter, bringing tears to my eyes. "In your service but a year and look how she repays you, stealing your silver and her Ladyship's jewels and running off. I've very sorry for ever taking her on", Jenkins apologised, glaring at me angrily.

Sir Henry stood before me, his hand roughly raising my chin to meet his eyes.

"I'm going to make you very sorry for this, you thieving girl" he spat, "But first I must find my wife's jewels". He released me pushing me backwards. "Search her. Thoroughly" he ordered Jenkins. "She may have the jewels hidden on her".

Jenkins ordered me to strip off, and with trembling hands I obeyed. As I divested my clothing he searched each thoroughly but found nothing. I hesitated at taking off my under garments, my hands would not obey, but Jenkins grabbed my arms while Sir Henry quickly finished stripping me. Finally, I stood before them naked, trying desperately to cover my modesty.

"Continue searching her" Sir Henry commanded. "Everywhere". I did not know what he meant until Jenkins forced my mouth open and poked inside with his fingers.

Shaking his head at Sir Henry he then pushed me across the desk, kicking my legs apart, making me feel so exposed. But worse was to come. I twisted my head at the sound of a rubber glove, terrified at what they might do to me.

Holding me down firmly with one hand Jenkins put his fingers inside me, in my most intimate place. He probed me roughly making me cry out in pain and shame. But when he turned his attentions to my other orifice I started to struggle wildly but could not remove him. Such pain, I thought it would never stop.

"Nothing there m'Lord" Jenkins reported, removing his glove.

"Well I think I had better check, just to be sure" his Lordship replied and once again my orifices were painfully probed.

Once he had satisfied himself that I concealed nothing he stood me before him asking if I wished to remain in the house, was I sorry for my crime? To which I sobbed apologies and begged forgiveness.

Jenkins' opinion was asked for and he conceded I had been a good maid but I would need to be severely punished to remind me to behave in future. My eyes widened in terror at this but I meekly obeyed when told to place myself over the desk again.

Sir Henry held me down and from the corner of my eye I could see Jenkins lifting a heavy cane.

"I'm going to flog you til you scream girl" he told me, tapping the rod on my bare bottom. "I've never been so let down by someone I've hired, in all my years of working here".

With that the first stroke of the rod burned across me and I yelped loudly, trying to twist away, but Sir Henry held me firm. Again and again the rod fell, with barely any time in between in which I could get any respite. It was not long before I was screaming aloud. I do not know how many he gave me, 20, perhaps 30, it all blurred in an agony of fire until I was crying for mercy. I had been flogged before but never with such intensity.

When he had finally paused he offered the rod to Sir Henry and took his turn to hold me down. Again the rod whipped down on on me, again causing such pain I screamed once more. Although it was severe, there were not as many as Jenkins had given me, and when he had done with me I lay slumped over the desk in agony.

"Lock her in her room for a few days" Sir Henry dismissed us. "If she has swallowed the jewels we shall soon know".

Weeping silently I was dragged naked out of the room by Jenkins, my clothes clutched in my hands. I would never steal again.

Just a tease

I'm a very lucky girl who gets to play with a lot of great people, both tops and bottoms and switches and what not. But when you take the labels off, these are people I happily count amongst my good friends. (Including one very delightful girl I've only just met but after a few days in her company recognise as another kindred spirit!)

Amongst all the play at the weekend I found myself looking round the room of people and thinking I was obscenely happy to be with them.

As for the actual play, considering I've had practically 3 days of continuous whacking with so many scenes that were so amazing it's no wonder I know not where to start with blogging. But I do swear I shall write up as many as I can and do feel free to beat me if I don't deliver.

Hopefully by the end of the week you'll have heard about:

- Eliane and my's trip to Headmaster Higgins. A first visit for her, alas not the first for me;

- When Emma Jane was given a band of fire to demonstrate to a new girl just how painful it was, followed by a dual beating by both Jessica and Miss Cavendish;

- When Caoilfhionn and Felicity met Juliet in full-on scary mode and were severely punished, partly because we'd been naughty, and partly cause she's just a lil bit evil;

- Then there was the party where the Irish Terror faced off against the Mighty Jew and the Kinky Catholic in an oil wrestling death match;

- I can't forget the first time beating by Martha and her boyfriend. She picked the implements out, he thoroughly did the beating;

- And most scary of all, how the maid got dealt with for stealing by the terrifying duo of Mr Jenkins and Sir Henry!

Friday, September 25

Being disciplined

"Go upstairs and fetch a cane"

The seriousness of the tone cut right through my merry mood. I looked at him, unsure of what to do. Brat it out, make a fuss or just obey? His answering look was stern and expectant, brooking no argument. Up to his study I went, suddenly feeling very nervous. This wasn't a prepared scene. His intention was to punish me, discipline me, Emma Jane.

He'd never done that before.

And I'd apologised immediately. It wasn't my intention that putting an ice-cube down his trousers would culminate in him falling on the floor, banging his elbow quite nastily. I did feel bad.

In the study I panicked and selected the first cane I saw. Unfortunately, it just happened to be one of his dragon canes. I slowly made my way back downstairs and gave it to him, afraid to look him in the eye.

We've played many times by now, Abel and I. I've suffered countless strokes at his hands, have had to bend over and bare my bottom on his command so often. And yet this time it might as well have been the first, for the apprehension I felt.

One final plead that I was sorry, that it had really been an accident. Quietly being told he understood I hadn't meant it, but such misbehaviour had to be dealt with.

Over I went, hands on knees, dress lifted up. He took my knickers down. 6 sharp cuts of the cane rained down. Just enough time between each to burn to their full potential. Pain, pain, pain. I had to to try very hard to stay still and not put my hands back.

The relief of finishing, being allowed to straighten and fix my clothing and then a lovely forgiving hug. But as I turned away I couldn't help but say it was hardly my fault that he fell, I was so much smaller than he.

I was made to regret it instantly. Over I went again, for another 6, all as hard as the previous set. This time I wriggled and gasped and determined to keep my mouth shut if he ever stopped beating me.

And when it was finally over I was careful not to say anything to get me into further trouble. Just enjoyed my hugs and reflected on such an intense scene and how real it was. Proper discipline, not enjoyed at the time, but that wonderful cathartic feeling when it was over.

(III) You know you're a pervert when...

You know you're a pervert when you constantly pervert reality.

Like last week when I was driving to work. I passed a group of very neatly dressed school children being marched along the pavement. All about 16 or 17 the boys were smartly attired in navy slacks, blue shirt, navy blazer and striped ties.The girls wore matching uniforms, with skirts down well below their knees. They were being marshaled along by a couple of teachers, who all happened to be older gentlemen.

One of the gentlemen stood at the pedestrian crossing ushering the students across quickly before the lights changed and I realised they were heading to a nearby church. The gentleman was quite distinguished and very imposing as he heralded the students across the road, at one stage holding his hand up imperiously to halt the traffic. (He was lucky not to be run over, tis a brave man that gets in the way of Dublin rush hour!). I determined this man to be the Headmaster.

As I was waiting for the lights to change I noticed a few stragglers accompanied by another teacher, arriving at the now red lights. The Headmaster did not seem pleased.

While I couldn't hear what he was saying, I was imagining the other teacher explaining he had found the girls trying to slip off on their own. There'd be a lecture of course and 3 shame faced girls would dash into the back of the church just as mass began knowing a trip to the Headmaster's study, and no doubt 6 of the best, would await them back at school.

Wednesday, September 23

Little does she know

Hmmm sometimes my vanilla friends say things in jest that is are true about me I have to be very careful not to give anything away with my reactions.

Like today at work. I had a very sore tooth and was complaining about it. A colleagues offered painkillers and I refused saying I'd wait and see if it got worse before taking anything.

Colleague replies "Oh like a bit of pain do ya. You're so like 'go on give me some more pain, I love it', right?"

I laughed along. "Oh yeah, I'm a total masochist me. Make it hurt so good"

Little did she know I was speaking the truth ;)

Monday, September 21

Black and blue

I went to Nimhneach with the desire to be soundly beaten. And thanks to my lovely friends that wish was fulfilled.

Thing is on club nights I thrive on hard scenes. Floggings in particular. Strokes land on my thighs, the backs of my legs, all over me. And I don't care at the time. Riding out the pain, loving the publicness of the play. I want to be marked and bruised. Reminds me of my early club nights on the scene where I was black and blue for days.

And those who like to play with me seem to enjoy inflicting such marks on me too.

But that's all well and good at the time. Waking up on Sunday mornings after the fact are not as fun. When turning over in bed hurts and I'm limping around the place. Dreading getting into my car. Unable to wear short PJs around the house or my short skirts to work. Almost shocked at how my ass and legs look.

Cancelling a wax appointment once again, cos there is no way earthly way I can explain the marks. And being slightly concerned I've jeopardised an upcoming weekend of play.

And when I'm next at the club, will I take it easier? Not play so hard?

Of course not, pain is fleeting on this eternal quest to fly.

Sunday, September 20

Double acts

Last night at Nimhneach was primarily about double acts.

The main one being me and the wonderful Caroline Grey, dressed completely identical in matching school uniforms. We skipped around the club with abandon and danced our socks off. We were everything I love to be: happy, giddy and bratty.

I did some lovely one to one scenes with Paul F and Master Retep. I was barely in the door when Paul F sat on the stage and pulled me across his knee for a very sound spanking. It was lovely. Although when we played later and I was getting whacked very hard with his wooden bbq brush (another kitchen pervertible) it was not so lovely!

And my last scene of the night was with Master Retep where I was pushed against a pillar and spanked very hard (with his left hand!) and then caned. Our second time to play and the developing trust between us made the scene much more intense.

But double acts were generally the order of the night and I played very hard, physically, not emotionally.

We did a lovely scene on the main stage where Caroline and I were doubled dommed by Topcat and Ms L, a very lovely lady dressed as a modern day governess. Both of us were spanked at the same time. Caroline over Topcat's knee, me over Ms L's. Pinafore dresses flipped up, white knickers pulled down.

All quite nice until out came the horrid hairbrushes. I got the one we called the puppy killer, the most evil of Topcats's collection. Ow ow ow. And ow's became serious yelps when we switched knees and it was Topcat reminding me just why I hate hairbrushes!

After the hell of the hairbrush we were ordered to knee over the back of a chair for the belt. Hands on the floor, bottom high in he air, one girl kneeling over the chair, the other kneeling in front of her, holding her hands. 24 strokes in total, each one stinging so hard, making us momentarily forget the club and the people watching. Then the cane to finish, 6 from Ms L and 12 from Topcat. Two sorry little girls for all of 30 seconds before we ran off to make more mischief!

Oh but there's more, and the highlight of the night for me. I was double dommed by a lovely couple, good friends of mine Chalk and Dick Dastardly. I have watched them play often and on occasion had played with Mr Dastardly. They were both dressed spectacularly in old-fashioned shoolmaster and governess outfits and from early on I was warned I'd be before them for my behaviour. (This is when your friends use your blog to get you into trouble!)

It was an amazing scene, being incredibly funny, horrendously painful and at times a lil bit head spacey. I was on the back foot from the offset, not knowing the name of the school I was attending. And throughout the whole scene I struggled to guess remember the name as both interchanged on beating me. Swapping implements and taking turns, it was impossible to know what was coming next. While throughout it all they kept up a lecture that had me in tears it was so funny.

They reminded me repeatedly that it was for my own good, that I had to learn, that I had to take what I deserved. The most intense part was when Ms Chalk knelt beside me and squeezed my hand, whispering that I could do this, urging me to take it as Mr Dastardly flogged me as hard as I've ever been flogged. For all the fun of the lecturing their whips and crops had me dancing out of position and moaning in pain. And still I did not know the name of my school!

In the end they took pity on me and gave me the letters: FYOG. But I still didn't get it. 'Fit Young Original Girls' wasn't it, nor was Fabulous Young Ostentatious Girls'. So I had to be further punished until they felt I had learned my lesson. Afterwards I thanked them sincerely for their attentions.

A really great scene where Mr Dastardly proved again he can be evil with a flogger and Ms Chalk acquitted herself very well (almost too well!) as a Domme. And as for me, the attention slut that I am, having two playmates abusing me simultaneously, that was just mind blowing!

(BTW, the school was 'For Your Own Good', duh!)

Saturday, September 19

The anticipation of participation

Hee, hee I'm all excited. It's Nimhneach tonight and for the first time in months both my school girl soulmate and total partner in crime and I will be in attendance together. Not to mention the wonderful Topcat! It's been far too long since he got to swing anything at me and I figure he'll be making them count!

Herself and I have already had the 'what to wear' discussion. No surprises that it's school uniform but we had to think about which one. We have 3 uniforms that completely match from skirts, to pinafores to ties and shirts.

The final decision was grey skirt, white shirt, burgundy sweater, plaid burgundy tie and white knee socks. We will be looking very cute.

And I'm so up for playing I'm beside myself. A flogging you say? Oh yes please. Is that a cane? Certainly I'll take double. A strapping ? Oh don't stop. I may even go as far as taking a hair brushing. Bring it on!

BTW if you're at Nimheach come up and say hi!

Friday, September 18

A new challenge

I'm a lil bit distracted peoples, I do apologise. I've started writing for a new blog called Winterbrook Hall. Go check it out if you haven't seen it yet. It's basically a story about life in 1907 and we are writing various characters in a grand old house with gentry and servants and of course spankings and all sorts.

I signed up to taking part with many concerns and questions. Is my writing good enough? Can I write to deadline? Can I develop a character, or characters even, throughout a year? Will I get bored and give up after a month? Can I work collaboratively with others? Will we all kill each other?

And many of these concerns are still there, time shall only tell but I'm giving it a go anyway. Sure I love a challenge!

So far it's been a lot of fun but understandably quite time intensive as we get it up and running. The discipline of writing on demand and therefore being creative on demand is new for me and I'm trying to take advantage of my initial enthusiasm to get a lil bit ahead of myself with posts.

Therefore my mind is very much on the characters I'm writing and how they are going to develop and what might happen to them. Added to that Eliane and I are spending many, many hours discussing plots and interweaving our characters. Our biggest problem so far is a reluctance for our characters to get spanked. Someone really needs to point out that's the whole idea! But it's all very exciting.

So between thinking about it, thinking about writing it, actually writing for it and reading up on the Edwardian era I'm quite distracted from my usual ruminations on life, kink and the universe. But I hope it'll be worthwhile in the end and I won't stray far from here, my refuge in a mad, mad world!

Tuesday, September 15


Last night I was out with a group of close vanilla friends. As I posted last week I haven't seen much of them lately so I was really looking forward to catching up.

As it went it was a really fun night with lots of high jinks and laughter. We went to a concert in a very large field and found entertainment in all sorts of funny ways.

I got nicely tipsy, danced in a crazy fashion, flirted with a vanilla friend and overall felt very happy. Considering the amount of kinky stuff I've had going on lately it was such a nice change of pace to just be myself, not a character, not a role player not a bottom or a brat. Just me Emma Jane. And to be with people I've known for years.

Of course being myself tends to be a very extroverted, giggly girl who thinks that candy floss, ice cream and popcorn are the perfect accompaniments to cheap wine. But my point is I can easily be giddy and mischievous with my vanilla friends and they indulge me. Allow me to be me, laugh along with me. There's no censor on their part and no agenda or subtext on mine. No underlying please spank me undertone. Just good, wholesome fun.

And that's the balance I need in my life. Ability to let go in different facets of my life, but in very different ways. All part of being me.

Sunday, September 13


I really like these pictures for the contrast they illustrate.

The first showing where I'm a good, brave girl, holding postiton as ordered, controlling myself. Back arched nicely, bottom properly presented, legs straight, straining on my tiptoes. The red glow of my already sore bottom just visible.

And the second, where I have lost control. Sagging almost to my knees after the final hard stroke fell, gasping for air as I try to deal with the pain. No dignity here, open and exposed.

The little things at Lowewood

Group play weekend are always made up of little gems of things that happen that I often forget to include in my write ups. These are usually minor things but are often the funniest parts of the weekend or serve to make the play all the more authentic.

Here are just a few from our last Lowewood day that made me laugh or cry or just really made me feel like a schoolgirl. Perhaps the others can add to the things that they noted!

- Getting so excited to see everyone the morning of Lowewood that I fell over the coffee table trying to hug everyone at once

- Everyone wearing cute bows and clips that Rebecca gifted everyone with

- The embarrassment of having to pull up my skirt in front of the entire school to show Miss Cavendish I was wearing regulation knickers

- Noting with delight at how all the girls kept a straight face as we sang the Internet is for Porn while all the teaches save for Mr S struggled to hide their smiles

- Jessica being spanked in assembly for playing above song and trying not to giggle at her predicament

- Singing the actual Lowewood school song and feeling really, really happy to be there

- Dropping a box full of sweets and alcohol minatures outside the door of the staff room and grabbing the alcohol and legging it while Jemima stayed behind to pick up the sweets and plead innocence to the teachers

- Laughing as Sylvie and Jemima claimed 'that's what the servants are for' to every answer in etiquette

- Running out of the school screaming as the fire alarm went off

- Watching Abigail Greene get caught red handed writing anarchy slogans on the blackboard before class

- Laughing as Rebecca taught Beth how to put a condom on with one's teeth in PSHE

- Listening in awe as Miss Cavendish and Jessica discussed different types of dinner laying styles as I puzzled over whether the cutlery worked from outside in or inside out

- Dissecting a flower in Biology and wondering who'd be first to lose a finger

- Laughing at Mr Brown's very yellow games shorts

- Falling in the garden and shredding my knees with the desperation to win the relay race

- Sentenced to detention with Jemima in the Father Smith wing and asking who did she think we'd get landed with as Rev Jenkins appeared

- Dancing on the chairs with Fliss after dinner to the St Trinian's theme tune DEFENDERS OF ANARCHY!!

Friday, September 11

Lady Grace gets her comeuppence

Lady Grace was invited to dine with Lord Fawcett, accompanied by her chaperone and intimate acquaintance of Lord Fawcett, Mrs Derby. His lordship was keen to appraise Lady Grace for her suitability as a guest at his legendary annual party. Mrs Derby having the knack of selecting young ladies of a certain calibre that he found most pleasing. Her choices had not let him down yet.

The dinner was a truly sumptuous affair with splendid food and wine and all parties dressed in the finest fashions of the day. Lady Grace managed to acquit herself quite well almost the whole way through the evening. Although Mrs Derby was horrified that she brought up her pirate ancestry at dinner. (Even if Lord Fawcett thought it very entertaining!). They discussed many pressing topics of the day such as the Irish situation, the price of linen, travelling by ship, that blasted Napolean fellow as well as several suitable husbands for Lady Grace.

Unfortunately by the end of the meal the wine had gone somewhat to Lady Grace's head, unaccustomed as she was to having so much of it. And thus her manners were found sadly lacking as they discussed other potential house party guests. Making her disdain for the lower members of society apparent she could not comprehend how Lady Selina, daughter of the Marquis of Sidbury could have married so beneath her. Nor was she pleased to hear her chosen husband was the Chief Punishment Officer of England, declaring that she herself had never been beaten and was all the better for it.

Berated by Mrs Derby for such an outburst, her resulting pouting enraged Lord Fawcett and she soon found herself standing hands upon her head in a corner of the room, as her companions repaired to the drawing room without her.

She felt the humiliation keenly, no-one had ever treated her thus. And her shame increased tenfold when Lord Fawcett made her remove her dress and stand there in her undergarments. Appealing to Mrs Derby did her no good and the promise of being soundly flogged was made. Nor was Mrs Derby pleased to see her charge wearing undergarments of such a distinctly racy kind.

After quite some time in the corner, it was a much more meek Lady Grace that was called to Lord Fawcett where he soon impressed on her bottom his intense dislike of pouting and bad manners in a lady. Mrs Derby then took her turn to show her disapproval, paddling her naughty charge's bottom quite soundly.

Such punishments by Lord Fawcett and Mrs Derby continued for some time, until Lady Grace was sufficiently contrite and subdued. Peace and order were restored and the evening spent in much pleasanter activities.

Thursday, September 10


My lovely friend Chalk has quite a way with words and often delights us with her brilliance. I've posted one such piece from her below, which made me laugh out loud.

Simply titled 'A poem on Fetlife during work', I can just imagine her all serious in front of her work colleagues, but quietly writing this:

It is with much procrastination
that I face the bank reconciliation,
cannot resist the temptation
to add to my fetish list.

I lack the motivation
for financial navigation;
instead add to the population
of my fetish list.

This unseemly aberration
from my employer's just expectation...,
when called for explanation...
Should I produce the fetish list?!

Though can't deny the education
of my list's declaration
it's with much fascination
that I seek to fill my fetish list.

So I'll hope for inspiration
on time for accounts' presentation,
an excuse begetting admiration
that avoids my fetish list!

And I thought having kinky fantasies at work was naughty!

Tuesday, September 8

Getting on top of myself

I've written before how this double life can be hard. Sometimes it gets to me more than others as it all builds up around me. Juggling the kinky stuff and the vanilla stuff and feeling guilty that I always seem to be letting people down.

When I'd rather play a roleplay scene or hang out with my kinky friends than go out clubbing with the vanillas. Or spending all my money on flights to the UK or new play clothes and such than doing other things.

I haven't seen most of my vanilla friends or any of my family in weeks. My weekends have been taken up with lovely kinky activities or recovering from lovely kinky activites. And my weekday evenings taken up with working late. I've been coming home so tired that phone conversations are too hard, both the kinky friends and the vanilla friends.

Blogging is almost beyond me and it seems like I have a never ending list of things to do. Write up the great scenes I did at the weekend before I forget them, reply to all my fetlife messages, and all my emails from friends old and new. Although part of me is afraid to chat to the new people cos if they turn out to be another lovely person then I'll have to mail and call them and try fit in play dates.

And yes I do understand how ungrateful that makes me sound and of course I wouldn't want it any other way. I just feel like I'm letting people down all the time by not being available to talk or email or come visit.

Haron blogged today about trying to decide if she needed a tutor or a guardian to help her focus on her tasks. Sometimes I think I need an authoritarian who will help me prioritise my life, make the difficult decisions for me and take away the guilt. Tell me I can't stay up late and write emails and blog entries. That I can't work until 9 at night. That I can't go to every party I'm invited to, no matter how wonderful it sounds. That I can't skip dinner and have toast cos I can't be bothered cooking.

Someone to take the pressure off, to remind me that that people like me for who I am, not what I can do for them. Beat it into me that the world will keep turning if I take a little step back now and then.

But real life is not a playground and as much as I like to play the little girl, the reality is I'm not one. And even if such a person existed it wouldn't work. I do want to be in control of my own life, I don't really want it to be run for me. I just wish I was better at running it myself and could cut myself some slack sometimes!

Monday, September 7

I didn't see that coming

I love Lowewood cos it's the ultimate in roleplay fun. It's so well organised by the wonderful Mr Shaftbotham and Miss Bellend that the day goes off without a hitch, allowing us all to have a great time.

It's all about a group of people acting out their fantasies and having a good giggle along the way. Like playing jokes on the teachers such as Jemima's mastermind of changing the school song that ended up with Jessica getting spanked in assembly for continuing to play it!

Or the continuous ringing of phones in the classroom (even if I did end up getting my hands tawsed for it!) or having a pen so annoying that I got docked points for having 'inappropriate stationery'. And even if we do tend to get competitive at games, (well some of us more than others, my knees are still in bits from hurtling over the line in the relay race), generally the day is lots of good, clean, if somewhat painful, fun!

And as Caoilfhionn, I'm in my element, just letting go and being 16 again with not a care in the world. This Lowewood it was lovely to get to know 2 lovely new girls, Hannah and fellow Byron housemate and partner in crime Felicity. But while I expected the fun and giggly stuff, the teasing and the fear of getting caught, I was surprised to find myself getting into some intense headspace places during the day.

The first was in final assembly when points books were tallied and handed back and the coveted Father Smith Cup was awarded. I nearly burst with pride and excitement as Caoilfhionn won it for being the 'most sporting girl'. And I quite enjoyed waving it about and making a speech about how this was the second term in a row Byron House had won it.

But this lovely high was quickly replaced by a sinking feeling as the points books were handed out and I realised very quickly that I was probably not going to do well in the order of things. As all other 8 girls received their books back it was confirmed that once again I had the most negative house points of any of the girls, with -35!

Oh to go from the pride of winning the cup to the shame of being the worst girl in the school and how quickly it all happened. And when Mr Shaftbotham threatened to take the Father Smith Cup off me for being so badly behaved, the thought was so awful that to my utter embarrassment my eyes filled with tears of shame and misery. I quickly brushed them away hoping no-one noticed.

For a long 10 seconds I stared at the ground in horror feeling the utmost humiliation until he made his decision. It was painfully intense. Fortunately he decided to be lenient and instead sentenced me to detention with Rev Jenkins.

Considering that Rev Jenkins had caned me earlier in the day for my various crimes but had gone easy on me as it was the first time I'd been before him, I knew I was in big trouble. I was ordered to stand outside while he dealt with Jemima first. Listening to her get caned was horrible and made me more on edge. I held my breath for every stroke, knowing I was going to be next. As she left the room we stole a quick hug before I had to go and meet my fate.

It was worse than even I had feared. He was in full-on lecture mode, making me hold my cup and points book as he spoke of my potential and berated me on my bad behaviour. Making me feel guilty about ruining the school's reputation, abusing his earlier leniency and worst of all letting myself down.

I felt every word keenly, Caoilfhionn has never been so properly derailed. Suddenly having crazy pens and blowing bubbles and texting in class wasn't funny anymore. I wanted to be a good girl. Warning me that this wasn't just a punishment but a proper discipline session, he made me remove my knickers and hand them to him. Then guided me over the bench and flipped my skirt up.

'One stroke for every negative point lost' he pronounced seriously 'and I mean to make them count.'

I braced myself clutching the bench and trying to breathe as I waited for the first stroke to fall. The it whipped down on my bare bottom and I whimpered before counting 'one, thank you Sir'. The strokes continued for some time at the same intensity and pace, peppered with his lecture. I was feeling dreadfully ashamed, swearing to myself that I would do better.

And still the strokes fell, each burning horribly, but I hung in and held my position. Until finally there was only 6 to go and he congratulated me on my bravery before promising these would be the hardest yet. Which indeed they were, each one feeling like a brand and I kicked my leg up in agony after each one.

Until it was over and I could breathe again. I blushed as he returned my knickers, observing silently as I winced pulling them up. Once I was dressed he stood me before him, lifted my chin until I met his eyes and made me promise to behave better, reminding me I had so much potential and that I had better not be bottom of the class again. And right then I so badly wanted to do better, wanted to make him proud.

Such intensity as that final hour of assembly and detention; I certainly never saw that coming!

Saturday, September 5

All in my head

When I wrote yesterday's post about the three different characters I'd be playing over this weekend it got me thinking about roleplay in general and all the characters I've come up with over the past year.

I've made up several girls for schools, reformatories, historical re-enactments or just once off scenes. Each one has had some degreee of thought and planning (some more than others) and in my head I know her personality. How she reacts to things, what a punishment means to her i.e. a humiliation, a test, something routine etc., if she's likely to cry or not.

And of these girls, just as some get more planning, some mean more to me than others. Anna who plays with her Uncle Henry has a very special place in my heart. She's so vulnerable and scared and just wants to be loved by her Uncle, who of course horribly abuses her!

But Caoilfhionn is my absolute favourite. She's always got a spark of mischief in her eye and is funny and brave and confident (not to mention competitive). Nothing phases her and she doesn't worry or stress about anything. When I'm Caoilfhionn I feel like I'm in my happy place. I feel prettier and more confident. I want to be her forever, my ultimate safe regression!

And after I've been Caoilfhionn I love to think back about her day and how she felt and then compare to how I, Emma Jane would have reacted or felt. It's so interesting to think of how different I can be when I'm her!

Like at the last Lowewood when the teachers refused to pronounce her name properly and some of the other girls teased her over it, when the infamous Cellophane was coined! Caoilfhionn delighted in the attention and acceptance by her fellow school mates. But thinking about it afterwards Emma Jane did not like it at all. I created her as Caoilfhionn. OK yes I chose a name deliberately very Irish and therefore hard for my English friends (and even some Irish friends!) to pronounce so of course I get the irony of it all! But it didn't matter, it bothered me.

And it's gotten me musing over the intensity of our connection with our characters. They are very real to us and that's what makes roleplay work. They evoke real emotions and it's very powerful indeed.

Friday, September 4

Tonight Matthew I'm going to be....

I'm off again peoples, more kinky play awaits me!

The suitcase is packed and what fun that was, tying to fit it all in, for I am going to be several different people this weekend and therefore need a few changes of outfit. Not to mention the obligatory 30 pairs of knickers I bring everywhere (15 white and 15 assorted colours).

First off I shall be Lady Grace Altamount dining with Lord Fawcett and his hostess, Mrs Derby. If Lady Grace meets Lord Fawcett's approval then she shall be invited to his legendary house party. So it's a very big deal that she impresses them both!

Lady Grace Altamount is the only daughter and youngest child of The Hon. Marquess of Sligo, Lord Altamount. Her mother Lousia Catherine, daughter and heiress of the famous English Earl Howe, died when she was but three years old.

She grew up in her father’s stately home, Westport House in Co. Mayo where the family have been in residence since the 16th Century. She was an affectionate if somewhat wilful child, over indulged by her elderly father. Her direct family line descends from the 16th century Grace O’Malley, the Pirate Queen. An imaginative and dramatic child she often fancied herself as a modern Pirate Queen, dreaming of adventure. With no sisters or female relatives in Ireland her formative years were spent happily running wild with her brothers on the Westport estate with a series of nursemaids, nannies and governesses attending to her every whim.

However, on reaching the age of 16 and acting on the advice of her maternal aunt, Lady Martha Aubrey, Lord Altamount sent Grace to London to be refined as a lady and to be introduced into society.

Happily the pain of separation from her father and her beloved Westport, was softened by an immediate attachment to Lady Aubery’s youngest daughter, Lady Francesa. At 17 she was only one year older than Lady Grace. A shy and retiring girl, Lady Francesa blossomed under her cousins’ encouraging spirit. The two immediately became confidantes, often managing to escape the watchful eye of their strict governess Miss Hertford.

Having made a solemn vow not to marry until both were as equally as in love as the other, Lady Grace is now 21 and still unattached, despite several offers for her hand. Her years in London have refined her but her Irish spirit and romanticism still glows beneath the surface.

The girls, growing bored of the society they are restricted to, with rarely a new face to excite them, are thrilled by hearing of a Lord Fawcett’s annual party. Knowing that Mrs Derby is his hostess for this year they contrive to meet her and form an acquaintance in the hope of being invited!

On Saturday Caoilfhionn returns to Lowewood, happy to be back with her friends and looking forward to meeting some new ones. She's also keen to meet the famous Rev Jenkins, back from his travels in time for the new term. She wonders whether he is as mean as his reputation suggests!

And on Sunday poor Fanny Evans is inducted into life at the Reformatory where Dr Grimace will be teaching her the error of her ways.

Fanny Evans is 19 years of age and the only child of the local schoolmaster. A well educated girl who has often felt her father's generous discipline, it was a great shock for the locals to hear her come before the courts.

In desperation to get away from her father's harsh ways she stole his most valuable possessions and made for London. However luck was not on her side and she was robbed not 5 miles from home leaving her no choice but to come home empty handed.

Her mother, fearing that her father would actually kill her pleaded with the magistrate to commit her to the local reformatory where she could learn the error of her ways and be safe from her father's anger.

Thus the magistrate conferred with Lord Fawcett and decided that 3 months in the reformatory would teach her a valuable lesson.

Added to all of the above I'm so looking forward to catching up with some dear friends I haven't seen in ages with the promise of many hugs, laughter and chatting. So I set off very excited indeed!

Wednesday, September 2

Look at me, look at me!

Seriously will you just look at what some genius has done to my blog?! I am in awe. Miss Jules take a bow, and another and another :)

A present for my 100th post, I think you'll all agree it's a fantastic one. It looks and feels right for me and my writing. But most fabulous of all is the beautiful drawing of me that she sketched herself from my blogger profile pic. (I shall be taking the bigger version and framing it!)

Of course I'm not the first to be so wonderfully pimped by Miss Jules, she's also done a fab job on Graham's as well as her own blog. So if your blog is in need of a makeover and like me you haven't a clue about HTML or java or even how to download a header (me too Graham!) then I'm sure Miss Jules can help you out for a small fee.

As for me I'm just going to spend the next hour staring at my screen!

Tuesday, September 1

And about time too!

I have often lamented the fact that there are not enough toppy types out there who blog. While I love to read the many excellent spanking blogs by bottoms I think it's also important to get the other perspective.

So I'm very pleased to announce that HH has finally started writing on his blog!

A hugely experienced scene player, he has a wealth of knowledge and insight about TTWD that really needs to be shared. His first post is in answer to my 'standing in the way of control' discussion. He gives his excellent perspective on our latest play weekend as well as an overview of the responsibilities of a top as he sees it.
"I do think that part of the skill of a good top is to facilitate letting go: to make the bottom feel safe enough to be vulnerable, to read her well enough to stop at the right time: not too soon, not too late."
I can't wait to hear more! So go on over to the art of corporal punishment and check it out.