Sunday, January 23

Conspiring in the library!

Over the Christmas holidays I had the pleasure of spending time with Casey Morgan. If you haven't met her let me tell she is even more wonderful in person than her writing and tweeting promises. We had a lovely time in the UK, staying together at both Abel and Haron's, at Elaine's and dancing at the Fawcett Hall ball. But the real icing on her trip was managing to convince her to come to Dublin for a few days.

It was an easy sell, given that I could dangle Master Retep, Bandree and Caroline Grey as my bait! In the end she arrived in Dublin before me and we all caught up on my return over a fantastic dinner (thanks Caroline) and a very funny board game.

The next day we took Casey around our favourite places in Dublin, including a nice long drink at the Library Bar! But it was in the Trinity College 'Long Room' that Casey and I had the most fun. If you've never heard of it this is the old library in Trinity College and is just the most fantastic room. I bring all visitors to this place and love that they feel its magic just as I do.

The picture really doesn't do it justice, it's a very long narrow room with very high ceilings, divided into two floors, with the upper floor a mezzanine over-looking the main floor. From floor to ceiling each aisle is stacked with books, the smell of which assaults you as you enter. It makes me dizzy with longing to flick through the books, to choose one to read, and to sit there cross legged on the floor getting lost in its contents.

Along each side of the main floor is a line of white busts, paying homage to many famous learned men and women, from Descartes to Shakespeare to Milton to Swift. As you walk by them you feel their eyes on you, challenging you with the weight of their knowledge.

It's a room that inspires me with awe. It's also a room that feeds my kinky imagination; I'd give anything to be caned in it ! To my delight Casey found it just as inspiring and we spent the much of our visit developing a detailed fantasy around the room.

Casey is going to write up an actual story about it, which I can't wait to read!  But our premise was that the Long Room was the library in a boys' public school. Each evening the boys would complete prep on the mezzanine floor. The main floor was reserved for the prefects of the school. And it was here that boys would be summoned to be dealt with for various infractions. The boys were all familiar with the procedure. When he entered the duty prefect would call out his name 'Shaw', and pronounce his fate. But he wouldn't be told the number of strokes, it was crueler than that.

Instead they told him the name of a bust. The position of the bust in the line determined the number of strokes. A Shakespeare would only be two, a Socrates six and a Swift was twelve, depending on how far up the line the bust came. We imagined the boy slowly walking though the library, fearfully reading the names on the busts as he went, praying his wasn't too far up the line.

And when he'd get to it, he'd bend over and wait. Until the prefect would take his run up (the further up the room, the longer the run up for the poor boy) and deliver his stroke. It'd ring out loudly and the boy would try to not make any sound, knowing his classmates were above, listening intently to his shame.

Feel free to share other ways you think the room could be put to good and kinky use!

Saturday, January 22

Write me a story...

Sometimes it's hard to convey your fantasies.  I don't just mean the embarrassment, or coyness (As Not an Odalisque puts it) of actually saying the words. 'I want to be spanked', 'Will you cane me?', 'Will you put me over your knee and spank me?'. None of these are words that are easy to write or say, so often we don't. We start by saying we're kinky, we might even say we're into CP, backed up by various references to Roald Dahl and Enid Blyton. There, that's enough to start with; I didn't actually have to say the squirmy words, spank, or bottom or over the knee but we're on the same wavelength now.

And even when arranging play, again we often return to the abstract. I need to be dealt with, at a push you might admit needing punishment. But we don't talk of the detail, of wanting a bottom bared and placed over someone's knee to be spanked. Below is an abstract of my first email to HH, in response to a Fetlife message he sent me and it's a text book example of abstract talking!

"...I'm sure we do indeed have a lot in common. I'm still exploring what I am into, but spanking, CP and roleplay are core for me. I LOVE rolepay and I LOVE playing with people who get as into as I do; I get totally lost in the scene and it's amazing..."

(Of course sites like Fetlife make the whole business easier, we list all the kinky things we think or know we're into, for easy perusal by interested parties.)

Once we've satisfied ourselves that the person is someone we'd like to actually play with, we by necessity need to get into the detail. Of scenes and limits and squicks and potential minefields. Not just because it's vital for safe and responsible play, but to also give the scene the best chance of actually being fulfilling.

That naturally raises the confusion of trying to figure out what you're actually into, and to know what your limits are. But as painful as it is, the limits list can he helpful. Little ticks on carefully compiled lists, in the privacy of one's own personal unease that can be sent off with a bright and breezy mail. Trying to convey nonchalance whilst we squirm inside and give thanks it wasn't a conversation had face to face.

But even if none of the above phases you, even if you can easily talk about your kink, your limits and what you want and need in detail, it's still very hard to convey your own personal fantasies. Those that are constructed and refined over weeks or months, played out over and over, whilst you both direct and perform not only your role but also the top's too. How do you convey all this to the top? And how realistic is it that you can ever play a scene that you've put so much thought into? How can the top ever deliver?

It's an issue top of mind for me at the minute as I plan an upcoming weekend with HH. In our early correspondence I mooted the idea of a particular fantasy I'd had forever. A very dark and potentially squicky fantasy. We discussed it at length at the time before I pulled back from it, not sure it would work for me.

That was almost two years ago. Now I find it on my mind once more, and again we're talking about possibly doing it. Although HH conscious of the potential minefield it may be, will make the final call on the day as to whether we proceed.

So now I find myself fantasising about this scene, with HH in role, using dialogue I know him capable of, but scripted by me. I can clearly see his face and his expressions, I can guess what he might do, how he might react to my character and almost what it would feel like. This is not a good thing. Partly because it's so hard to share this level of detail, but mostly because HH cannot and will not be dictated to for the entire scene.

Therefore we've agreed I'll write the fantasy in a story that we can draw inspiration from. And instead of using the story to dictate the nuances, I need to convey what makes the fantasy so compelling. What are the things that make my character tick, what is likely to trigger a deep scene, what are the key things she needs to hear or see. And for him, what is the context for his character being in this situation, what motivates him, what is his general attitude and tone.

I've used stories in the past in the same way, with both HH and Abel and whilst the stories have been generally too badly written to share with anyone else, they achieved their purpose. Thus, that is my homework for the weekend, write him a story.

Sunday, January 16

Moving up the School - Head Girl Caoilfhionn!

The Lowewood term got off to a mixed start for Caoilfhionn. There were three new girls, a new teacher (Major Payne) as well as Mr Brown (returned form his breakdown) which was all very exciting. But the absence of every schoolgirl's crush Miss Cavendish was noted, and for Caoilfhionn the absence of her best friend Jemima an even bigger blow. It all appeared to go rapidly down-hill when Caoilfhionn was pronounced Head Girl at assembly. Not because she wasn't pleased with the honour, but because she felt the responsibility fall heavily.

OK, so being Head Girl of Lowewood mightn't seem like much responsibility, but for a character formed on the basis of Chalet School, Malory Towers and St. Clare's, it actually was. She worried that she might not be her usual carefree mischief-making self. And she was even more worried Jemima would disown her! (Maybe it was a good thing that she was out sick after all). As she explained somewhat dramatically, the badge was akin to the Ring from Lord of the Rings: it burned her and it changed her.

The day had its usual mix of serious moments, reprimands, classroom jokes and school girl comradery. But Caoilfhionn was different. She walked a little taller, paid a lot more attention in class, got up to less mischief and even started chastising the other girls for any uniform violations. Of course when Jemima did eventually rock up she wasn't too pleased with this new Caoilfhionn, especially one who complained about her uniform and actually was pleased that she ended up in detention because of it!

But Caoilfhionn couldn't stop herself, she had to be helpful, she had to obey orders from the teachers and set the example for her fellow students by being on time and wearing her uniform perfectly. And she had to bear it when Felicity begged for the real Caoilfhionn to come back and when Jemima call her a suck up.

Still she was to find out that there are advantages to being Head Girl too. The teachers seemed to place a lot more trust in her. Like in art (her least favourite subject) she was requested to fetch three small plastic cups of water for the girls to share. Which she duly did, one at a time, from the kitchen downstairs, by-passing the bathroom next door in the process. It took most of the lesson to do so but she was not scolded for it!

In recognition of her efforts to be a good Head Girl. and no doubt making her even less popular with her school mates, she was awarded the Father Smith Cup, for being the most spirited girl. Whether this was on the basis of her exuding the most school spirit or in light of the several vodkas she sipped at her desk over the day is debatable, but she was delighted to win the Cup for Byron House. And even if Felicity was not impressed with Caoilfhionn's Head Girl-ness she and new Bryon girl Dulcie were at least pleased with the honour for Byron. (It also struck me later as highly appropriate that she did win it, as Ni Bradaigh actually means 'spirited'!)

Of course, Lowewood being a traditional school even Caoilfhionn didn't escape punishment. Her pink slipping at that hands of Major Payne for being drunk at Jemima's New Year party was particularly humiliating. Especially as he pointed out that her new found status in the school was not appropriate for such antics. It didn't help that he had pictures from the party taken from Facebook (she was very surprised any of the teachers even knew what Facebook is!). Her protests that she was only in her underwear because Jemima had the heating up too high for comfort and that she was only drinking from the champagne bottle was as Jemima had no glasses, landed her a punishment essay for not taking personal responsibility!

She also ended up in detention due to the wonderful prank that Jessica orchestrated, helium filled condoms in each girl's desk. In the first class, history with Major Payne, they floated ceremoniously to the ceiling to our delight! And even funnier was when they started to fall from the ceiling in Mr Brown's German class causing him to look up in horror. Even Caoilfhionn as her new responsible self, wasn't too  much of a prig to take part in such jokes. However, as is the Lowewood rule the Head Girl gets double! And Mr Edmunds did not hold back, painfully teaching her the consequences of such pranks, and reminding her with such honour comes more pain and responsibility!

All in all it was a fabulous day and I'm afraid that I can't even do it justice on here. Below is a little flavour of the goings-on that made the day so great!

-Mr Shaftbotham lamenting Jemima's absence in assembly, complaining the school song hadn't sufficiently aroused him without her there

- Playing a theme song for each teacher as they entered the classroom, Major Payne's was 'You're in the army now',  Mr Shaftbotham's was 'Another brick in the wall' and so on. Not only did the teachers not get that it was a recurring joke, it also took them ages to find where the music was from!

- New girl scouser Suzanne reading aloud in the thickest scouse accent resulting in some girls not being able to understanding her

- Jessica and Caoilfhionn almost scuffling to be the art model in the art class so they wouldn't have to draw and the fantastically bull shitting answers most girls gave to describe their drawings!

- Poor Catherine's disappointment at receiving -5 in art class for 'being too good at art' and her outrage on learning that it was Caoilfhionn who who had written it in her book, which went completely unnoticed by the teachers

- Acting out a satanic orgy in Reverend Jenkin's RE class, with Suzanne feeling up fellow new girl Harriet, Caoilfhionn dramatically whacking Sylvie with a ruler, and Jemima and Dulcie eerily waving candles, all chanting 'the internet is for porn' in slow drones

-Mr Edmunds wearing the garish smiley faces tie to dinner, that Caoilfhionn had gifted him for his birthday!

Thanks again to Jessica and Mr Shaftbotham for another excellent term at Lowewood.And to all the teachers who put such efforts into their classes. Caoilfhionn intends to spend the holidays trying to repair her friendship with Jemima!

ps one of my lovely readers pointed out to me that Aer Lingus has named its latest aircraft after my darling Caoilfhionn! Check it out here :)

Friday, January 14

Getting what she deserved...

I very rarely blog about sex. Actually scrap that, I never blog about sex. The details of what I like in my sex life I prefer to keep private. But the below excerpt from the book The Slap by Christos Tsiolkas, which I'm currently reading, just has to be shared. The sheer need for surrender and ownership, if even only momentarily, speaks volumes to me!

"The first thing she did after they were shown to their room was to ask him to fuck her. He responded to the urgency of her request; he kissed her roughly, biting her lip, exactly what she wanted from him. Moaning, she turned around and lay on her stomach on the bed. He pulled her underpants off, forced her legs apart, she heard him unzip, the tearing open of a condom packet and then his cock was entering her. She gritted her teeth, choked back a cry as he pushed hard inside her, the pain slicing her, the sensation exactly what she wanted, needed, what she deserved.
She took one, two, three, four shallow gulps of air, winced, and then she was above the pain. He was now a jackhammer, slamming into her, she was full of him, as much in her belly as in her cunt, she buried her face into the coverlet, her outstretched hands were clutching at the sheets, the fabric coiled around her fingers: she wanted him to fill her completely.
He was smashing into her, tearing her apart, destroying her and putting her back together. She was crying from the pain and the relief. She was still nowhere near arousal when he climaxed - he came with a roar, not touching her - but she let out a loud, grateful moan. He fell on top of her and she savoured the heaviness of his wet body over hers. He had made her his again."

Saturday, January 8

Happy New Year to You and to Me!

Well this is quite tardy indeed, but Happy New Year people! Please forgive me for being so remiss lately. I took the Christmas break seriously this year, catching up on sleep and friends and myself and although I have so much I wanted to share it felt good to be offline.

As is my way now that I've started up again there are sure to be several blog posts to come this week as I share my Christmas exploits. These included amongst other things a Regency Ball, a Sailor's Orphan being tested, New Year's celebrations with fizz and friends and a trip to the Trinity Library where Casey and I let our imaginations run riot!

However that is to talk of blog posts future, for now I merely wish to reflect on the year that's been and the year that I hope to have ahead. As my blog has hopefully borne out 2010 has been a wonderful year for me kink wise. I've been to several fantastic events; some repeats such as Lowewood and Lord Fawcett's House Party and some brand new like Finishing school and the Shamrock Spanking Society party.

And whilst I've become closer to my existing kinky family and circle of friends (you all know who you are) I've also widened that circle and met some fabulous new people too, from both sides of the water and across the big pond too. With these people came new conversations, confidences and experiences both of the kinky and the non-kinky variety. It also brought new play and I can safely say this year I have done scenes which pushed me to the extremities of my capabilities to bear, both physically and emotionally.

In my personal life the year has been up and down. Work has been horribly stressful, involving very long hours for various reasons. This coupled with continuous travel back and forth has made me rundown and easily susceptible to colds and bugs, meaning I've been sick far too often. And I have struggled to balance all aspects of my life, work, kinky, vanilla and the me-time

I hate to say no to anyone but have often found myself conflicted about who and when and what to visit. I'm constrained by both time and  money and it's been a constant worry that I am letting people down both sides of the water: worried what my family think that if I don't visit as much, afraid I'm losing touch with my best Irish friends, afraid of offending by refusing a kinky invitation, afraid of over doing it by travelling every weekend.

And yet what is the point of worrying about such things? If I decide to live in the moment, then why spend so much time over-thinking my choices? What an earth do I achieve? These are the questions I have asked myself as I ponder my year. Will I change what I do? No, I love my life. So therefore I must stop worrying about such things. Because I am slowly coming to realise that I am putting too much pressure on myself, that both my vanilla and kinky friends understand that I cannot be everything to everyone all of the time. That I can only be me.

Therefore this year I will try to be the best person I can be. The best friend, lover, confidant, roleplayer, blogger, sibling, daughter, worker bee. The best I can be, whilst also being just as kind to ME.