Five go to a Kinky House!

Our house specifically: it was our House Warming party you see and Anne (Catherine Thomas) and I played host, both dressed appropriately (or in my lovely house mate's case with a skirt so short it was inappropriate!)

With the theme being Famous Five, many of our lovely guests also came in character. We had Uncle Quentin (HH), Mr Rowland the tutor (Abel), Captain Johnson (the riding school owner), Joanna the cook, a whole series of Annes (from no skirt Anne to slutty Anne to drunken Anne and good Anne), the Vicar's daughter, Jo the Gypsy girl, Cousin Peggy and the fortune teller, a random burglar, Jack the Fisher boy and a Julian but no Dick.

To match the theme we also had a 1950's spread of food. There was spam, and corned beef and hard boiled eggs with twists of salt and fish paste and sardine and jam sandwiches and other wholesome goodies; not to mention lashings and lashings of ginger beer (as well as the other sort of lashings too!)

Whilst of course the day was just a bit of fun to show people our new home and an excuse to drink copious amounts of fizz, the theme was, of course, deep seated in our early kinkhoods. In the days of first reading Enid Blyton and encountering those references to spanking that stirred something unknown, but important, within us.

How often had I read about George and the trouble she had gotten in with her father; the spankings that were implied but never explicitly detailed. How I had filled in the gaps myself giving her OTK spankings and hairbrushings, even a caning that the boy she desperately tried to be deserved.

And yesterday I got to be her. In my boy's grey shorts, blue shirt and maroon tank top with grey socks and sandal shoes I was a passable impression of a boy. (Or at least a girl who really wants to look like a boy.) I certainly stood out against all the other girls in their pretty dresses and skirts. It was a role I very much enjoyed playing up to: fiercely declaring I should be called George, that I was as good as any boy and threatening to fight anyone who dared say otherwise!

This led to two delightful scenes. The first when Jack the Fisherboy put ice down my back and I fought him (actually her) to the floor and we wrestled enthusiastically. Until Father, or Uncle Quentin as everyone else called him, hauled me to my feet and marched me upstairs.

It was a different dynamic for HH and me to play: I knew both characters so well, whilst he had only his online research to aid him.  It was also unusual for us to play a scene where he was my Father, yet so firmly was he Uncle Quentin of the books that any angst I'd normally have didn't arise. As ever, he lived up to the role fabulously as I threw every Georgism I could remember at him!

Poor George was made to take her shorts and pants down and spanked over his knee before being strapped to tears with his tawse. Although she was ashamed of her 'girly' tears she was very proud when he told her she had taken her beating just as bravely as any boy.

But then he ruined it all by making her change our of her boy's clothes into a pretty dress with her hair in bunches, as befitted her as a joint host of the party. It was awfully humiliating to have to return to the gathering so evidently humbled, much to the taunts of the likes of slutty Anne.

Later in the evening there was another scene; this time between George, Uncle Quentin and Mr Rowland, her tutor. Again I had the upper hand of knowing the back story. Of Mr Rowland spying on Uncle Quentin's work and George finding him snooping where he shouldn't. In essence she was being punished for her rudeness to her tutor but refused to apologise. It was a lovely scene with all the righteousness in the world on my side, Uncle Quentin being strict but fair and Mr Rowland being very mean. (A role that Able seems to play all too convincingly!)

By this time in the day I was already very sore, (an earlier dalliance with Mr Allen and his canes being partly to blame), so the spankings really hurt whilst the hand strapping caught me off guard completely, leaving me piteously rubbing my raw palms.

As the evening wore on we became less Famous Five and more real-life kinky community:  The community that I have moved country to be nearer to;  The community that supports and looks out for each other. The community that transcends age, continents and background; My community.

(Of course not everyone could make the party; not least of all those who are in Ireland or the states, but all were there in kindred, kinky spirit and much missed in person.)