Wednesday, July 21


I find comfort in knowing the consequences of my actions. Most of the time I deal with real-life/grown-up consequences. Late to work = playing catch up all day. Drinking on a school night = hell as I have to get through the same workload but with a hangover. Making an error at work = a bollocking that can make me feel I'm useless. Spending all my money on flights = less new knickers.

But that's the grown-up world. In TTWD consequences are defined between my play partners and me, built up over time. There's the playful consequences like teasing or gentle bratting that earn light-hearted spankings. Or when the nasty side of my character comes out and there's real life issues to be dealt with then there's more serious consequences. (As both Abel and HH administer so very efficiently and effectively!)

As I've written on here many times, discipline is one of my core kinks. And discipline for me is not just about being punished for every misdemeanour. It's about wanting to behave, to be praised for being a good girl and not actually wanting to be in trouble. Being good, but all the while knowing the consequences of not being so. Whether they be a reproving look or word or a whipping.

Very often it's enough just to be reminded of those consequences. It can really help restore my equilibrium, especially when I'm grumpy or irrational, just to remind me I'm out of line.

And it can help me do things that are for my own good, but aren't always easy to do. I set off on my vanilla holidays tomorrow with the aim of switching off completely. I need to. From work, the double life, the stress. That means no work emails, no constant twitter and kinky email checking and no blog reading. Nothing that will be to the detriment of my precious time with my closest vanilla friends.

But it helps knowing that I have to face HH next weekend. Will have to report back on whether I did switch off or not. Will have to take the consequences if I don't. And as bizarre as it sounds I find that very comforting.

Wednesday, July 14

Still flying!

I've been in awe reading the the fabulous comments you all left on my last post. It really means a lot to me to get such feedback, thank you all so much.

As most of you know, I write up these scenes as much to process and document as I do to share with you. And writing this one up was particularly therapeutic for me. Not only writing it but also for the first time having something I wrote read back to me. The reader was Casey who I was thrilled to hang out with for a few oh-too-short days. In a very surprising but also oddly nice way, I cried as Casey read the post aloud to our close knit group on Sunday. Very briefly I relived every moment of the scene once more and cried in fear, exhilaration and relief, but this time in the full comfort of being surrounded by all my close friends.

So a few days on I'm still flying! Bruises are fading fast but I won't be playing properly for a few weeks, time to let body and soul regroup. But I will still be at the CP workshop in Dublin on Saturday, check out this Fetlife page if you want to come along or drop me a line for more details. Ian, The London Tanner will be demonstrating implements and techniques as well as some roleplay ideas and I shall be his model!

I still plan on going to Nimhneach too and shall have to find other ways to amuse myself if I can't indulge in my usual thrashings. Let's see ,there's back floggings, hand tawsings, thighs canings, bastinado, suspension... hmmm guess I might be OK!

Sunday, July 11

Summoned before the court...

I played one of the most intense scenes ever over the weekend. Physically and mentally it pushed me to my limits. Made me wonder what the hell I was doing, saw me draw from strength I didn't know I had, made me bond with near strangers and has left me feeling like I can do anything in the world right now. I am flying!

It's going to be damn near impossible for me to convey the headspace and emotion that went with this scene but I'll try my best. Not just because I am so keen to share it with you but I'm afraid it will all slip away and I'll forget exactly how I felt.

It was a judicial scene, planned for some time. I was summoned before the court accused of being connected to the mafia. Avid readers of this blog may remember the mafia scene I wrote about at the end of last year, this was their source of information. Except they didn't believe me that I was in the secret police at all!

One of the most intense things about this scene was that I knew very few of the participants in advance. Some I had met just once before and apart from online chat and the exchange of the formal papers, I didn't know any of the court officials who administered the punishment. It made the scene far more real. And while all the players came highly recommended (and subsequently proved to justify that) I couldn't help but be nervous about playing with them. For the first time was surrendering complete control to people who hadn't earned it and there was no safety net. And they were taking a leap with me. Trust was paramount.

As part of the process I was assigned legal representation (Mr Lamb) and we had prepared our case beforehand. I was pleading not guilty and he was confident we had a good case. I was worried none the less.

On the day Abel escorted me to the court. It was a long train journey and I was nervous, but pretending I wasn't. He handed me over to Mr Lamb and bid me goodbye. Every inch the protective guardian, giving me one last hug and urging me to be brave. It was far more powerful for me that he wasn't involved and really added to my nerves when he left.

Mr Lamb quickly went over my defence one more time before leaving me in the company of another girl who was also due before the courts, the wonderful Nicky Montford. We chatted trying not to think of what was ahead, giggling nervously and trying to distract ourselves. It felt like the summons would never come and yet when it finally did how I wished it hadn't.

At the door of the court house we were met by the court clerk, Ms Switch I presumed. There were no introductions, she merely escorted us to where our counsel were preparing and bade us wait until called. I was completely unnerved. Her uniform and her manner were so formal and precise. And reality started to hit home. This was actually happening and there was no turning back.

I stood quietly with Mr Lamb, incapable of speech, listening to Nicky and her counsel, Mr S Jenkins discuss some last minute details. And we waited, my stomach churning, sweat dripping. Until we were taken into the court room, placed into the dock and again waited in silence observing all about us. The second court official whom I was to learn was Mr Allen stood gravely in the corner. Then the third, Ms Stoker appeared behind the Judge. Severe and sombre in his robes, we all stood respectfully until he was seated. Seeing him, flanked by all the court officials in their uniforms made it crystal clear that this was a proper court and I was in trouble.

Nicky was called upon first and her counsel submitted a plea of guilty to the charge of contempt of court. Despite the plea she managed to upset the court somewhat with her remarks and was sentenced to a minute and a half of spray birching and 3o strokes with the manx birch.

Then it was my turn. Mr Lamb argued my case valiantly. But our defence that the Judge was corrupt and had links to the Mafia himself was not well received. I had expected if guilty I would receive a spray birching, but almost fainted when I was given not only a minute of the spray but also 20 strokes of the manx for contempt of court.

Before the Judge bade the officials to do their work he cautioned them that they were not to show either of us any mercy. That is was their duty to give every stroke as hard as they could, that no matter how much we protested or begged they were not to be lenient. If this was meant to freak me out more, it certainly worked.

Nicky was dealt with first and that time passed in a blur of noise, pity, terror and stomach churning on my behalf. Strapped onto the whipping bench her bottom was bared to the court officials.

Ms Switch took up one of the spray birches, at her bidding Mr Jenkins took out his stop watch and Mr Lamb took up his pencil to count the strokes. At the signal she began the birching, hitting so fast and hard I couldn't believe it possible. This was the first spray birching of this type I'd ever witnessed and I was very scared. Those 30 seconds felt like 30 minutes, and I was only observing.

But if I was scared during the spray I was undone by the manx birch. Made of 5 water willow rods, each thicker than my thumb it looked intimidating enough as it was. And watching the administrators put their full weight into bringing it down on her bottom and making the most obscene crack as it landed made me feel ill.

By the time they had done with Nicky I was absolutely petrified. I had witnessed all three officials at work, Ms Switch, Ms Stoker and Mr Allen and had never felt so out of my depth anywhere. Convinced that I had made a serious error of judgement, that I didn't play this hard that I wouldn't be able to take it. I was as close as I've ever come to a panic attack in a scene.

But what was I to do? I wanted to see it through, I had signed up for this. I couldn't run away now, that wasn't my style. So I told myself just to get through it. That it was just pain and pain would go away. No matter how much it hurt I would survive and I could leave with my head high and never have to do this again.

In this headspace it actually felt like I was being punished against my will. (Of course I wasn't). I thought of HH and Abel and how they wanted me to be brave and decided to try as hard as I could to be. There was no character to hide behind, this was me Emma Jane and I felt very alone.

When instructed I knelt up on the bench and put aside my concerns about having my legs strapped down. That was the least of my worries. Carefully they tied me in position. Ms Switch gave me some water, asked was I in good health and was I read to begin? And I was. No point putting it off any longer.

I was tied so I couldn't move but I clutched the bench with my hands anyway. Ms Stoker stood at the side of my head, carefully watching me throughout. From very far away I heard Mr Jenkins count down, 3, 2, 1 and then I braced myself, trying not to be sick.

The first strokes landed rapidly but were OK. I expected that. The spray builds to an unbearable point and 6 strokes in it was starting to burn. The pace and intensity of the strokes didn't let up throughout, but the burn was magnifying every second.

I held on for dear life, willing myself to be strong. I didn't move or make a sound, it was all I had. I was truly feeling the horrific pain but I clung onto my silence. If only I could take it silently then I could survive it and that became the mental battle in my head. Hold, hold on. Think of HH, think of Abel, think I'm a brave girl and I'll actually be brave.

When the first 30 seconds were done with I sobbed for the respite, letting out my pain. Almost weak with the relief that I could take the spray at least, even if I was in serious pain. I gratefully took the a drink of water, raising my head to Ms Switch, conscious of the pitiful site I made with the tears running down my face.

Mr Allen then took up the birch and I braced myself again. Breathing in and out, halting the tears, focusing. With just the same pace and intensity the birch rained down again. Once more I clung to my silence and holding still. And my mind went off to strange places. For the rest of that birching I was elsewhere. Each stroke dealing with some life stress: to hell with work, whack; car accident, whack; arguments with friends, whack.

To the point that this 30 seconds seemed far shorter. (I later learned they had managed to give me almost 140 strokes in the minute.) I cried deeper and harder this time. Pain and relief mingled with fear of the manx. I'd never felt water willow before. Didn't know what to expect but from witnessing Nicky knew it would be severe, knew they would use their full force on me.

Ms Switch went first. I braced myself, heard the astonishing crack as it hit my skin and moaned aloud in pain. It was like being hit with a sledge hammer but for all the thud it also seared my skin too. I couldn't believe I had to take 19 more.

It seemed like forever before we got the first 10 over with. No opportunity for my mind to go anywhere, I had to focus on the pain, on manging to breathe. I whimpered and cried through each one and wondered how my bottom didn't break in half.

Nervously I waited for the second ten, afraid when Mr Allen took it up. I expected him to be harder and he was. I howled through the first 3, sobbed at number 4 and thought i'd never see 10. And he was getting harder with each. How mean, I was already struggling to take it.

And then the switch flicked at number 5, a lil bit of defiance came out. I'd show him. I took the next 5 in silence, playing with him in my head. "Yes I'm flinching, yes it hurts, yes the tears are rolling down my cheeks but I can take it, I'm, flying so go on give it your best shot" I argued silently, trying to win this battle I had constructed in my head.

Until it was all over. I clenched my hands in triumph, giddy with pain and adrenalin, giving myself over to the emotions. Except we weren't done. Ms Switch pronounced 2 more to drive the lesson home.

And then my tears really started, this was breaking point. I didn't want any more. And certainly not from Mr Allen. Each was horribly painful and I cried aloud at both. I lay trembling on the bench when he was done, praying it was over.

The Judge questioned me before they let me up and I tearfully promised I had learned by lesson, that I would behave and apologised to the court. I was desperate not to incur anymore.Finally we were released and dismissed and it was over.

Weakly I collapsed into Lamb's arms. I had gone through it and had survived and I couldn't help but feel a sense of achievement. I was inexplicably proud of myself.

For a long time afterwards we chatted and hugged as a group, introductions finally having been made. I was flying high! But when Abel came to collect me I was glad to go home. To reflect, to process to relive one of the most intense experiences of my scene life. Thank you to everyone who made it happen. Today I'm a very happy and floaty girl. This is what this is all about for me, this is why I do this. I love to fly....

Thursday, July 8

When Celtic cousins get together...

Have I mentioned that I love roleplay? Love the places it takes me, whether it be defiant and rebellious, meek and submissive, scared and miserable, giggly and girly.

Over the weekend I got to play two very different characters but both great in their own way. And I got to play with my Celtic cousin Jessica!

The first scene mostly involved just Jessica and me and it was the first roleplay scene I ever played with her (or any other woman) domming me one to one. She was Madame Rosie, of 'Your pleasure is our business' fame, and I was Kitty O'Brien. A young Irish girl just off the boat and looking for employment. She had found her way to Madame Rosie's and was being interviewed for a position in the house of ill repute.

Kitty was a very naive and unworldly country girl and couldn't understand half the fancy words Madame Rosie used. All she knew was this was a very fine house and she wanted to stay there. She was pathetically eager to please this grand woman who seemed so lovely and tried not to protest at the various things she did to her. Even though she was very embarrassed to be inspected so intimately and stammered at disclosing the things she had done with Tom from the village back home. (He had put his 'lad' in her, 5 or 6 times.)

I loved playing Kitty, getting really into the head of an unworldly country girl, overwhelmed by her surroundings and desperate to please this lovely lady who seemed so kind. A very sweet moment was when Madame Rosie dressed her in new underthings and Kitty giggled in delight at being given fancy lace stockings to wear!

But poor Kitty was soon to learn the real price of such finery when her first client appeared, swung her over his shoulder and carried her up the stairs to have his wicked way with her.

A really lovely scene to start the weekend.

The other scene was darker but equally as much fun. Jessica and I were being forced through a witch trail and painfully interrogated by witch hunters, HWMBO and The Lover.

I was Cait, travelled over from Ireland some years previously to live with Ceridwen, my Celtic cousin on our Mothers' side. We were independent, educated women: a prime target for the witch hunters of the time.

In contrast to Kitty, Cait was a feisty character who wasn't going down without a fight. Together with Jessica's Ceridwen they made a formidable team!

The first 15 minutes of this scene were amazing as we verbally spared with Brother James and Brother Edmund. Without having prepared in advance we managed to seamlessly weave between our stories. Of how we were herbalists, that we were women of science, that we merely helped people. Remaining calm we defended ourselves and refuted their accusations.

But naturally they did not believe our protests and they insisted on taking us into custody to continue their investigations. This meant carrying out their witch tests.

We were stripped naked, strung up and then beaten mercilessly. At first Cait was serene, pleased that she gave no outward sign of distress no matter how hard they beat her. Alas the cries from her cousin they took as signs they were beating the devil from her and Cait ached for her pain.

But the tables were soon turned as they poured boiling fat over the girls and Cait screamed in agony. Then later marvelled at how her cousin bore the same torture in silence. They ended the ordeal searching for signs of the devil by pricking the girls all over. And then using ginger and nettles to inflame their delicate skin.

It almost broke the girls. But they held out, taking strength from each other and were finally released back to their cottage. Where they plotted evil and painful ways to avenge their treatment. They may not have been witches, but as women of science they had a few tricks up their sleeves.

So yes, I really love roleplay. You may beat me if I ever try to claim otherwise. (I did try once in a fit of petulance and I did indeed get beaten for it!)

Tuesday, July 6

Kinkship in action

I'm sure you're expecting the obligatory post-weekend rundown of all the play and beatings? Well don't worry it's coming; I did play some great scenes and I want to share them with you. But first I want to talk about the non-play stuff.

The someone giving up two hours of their day to make a round trip to the airport to collect me and then doing the same when dropping me back

The ongoing provision of fabulous food and snacks and beverages

The fabulous entertainment (both kinky and non-kinky)

The sympathetic ears to life's stresses

The contenment of being amongst friends.

In short genuine and wonderful hospitality at the hands of Jessica and HWMBO. Supplemented by also getting to hang out with the wonderful Eliane, Scarlett, Haron and Mr Edmunds and completed by the awesomeness of meeting Casey Morgan for the first time. (I wanted to hug her all day long)

My blog certainly bears witness to how much I love the high energy party weekends where I'm bouncing off the walls, giggling and dancing between people. I also love the weekends of intense play and connection with HH and Abel.

But I get just as much satisfaction from peaceful weekends amongst friends. Where the hours pass too easily and we're shocked to note how late it's gotten, Where there's not so much as a bratty comment or a playful spanking. Where it's just us, celebrating our kinkship. That was the true essence of my weekend.