It's not how good you are...

I had a great day hanging out with my girlies. There was shopping and drinks over the rugby game (we beat England, woohoo!) and then a lovely dinner out.

During the course of the shopping I bought a book. This book to be precise:


I'm hoping to learn valuable excuses to get me out of situations where toppy types are trying to punish me for some little thing or other as is their want to do. I particularly love the title: "It's not how good you are, it's how good you want to be". That will be my first line of defence: 'I didn't mean to be naughty Sir, I honestly wanted to be good.'

As you go through the book it gets even better though. A key philosophy is that "it's wrong to be right". That being right is indicative of closed-mindedness and arrogance. So the book promotes being wrong as in "it's right to be wrong".

I shall enjoy trying that one out next time a toppy type is telling me I'm wrong and must be punished. 'No, it is right to be wrong and wrong to be right and therefore it is you toppy type who must be punished, so there'

The idea "the person who doesn't make mistakes is unlikely to make anything" is perhaps more subtle and might be even more useful, and certianly less confusing, than the right/wrong argument. 'We learn by our mistakes, and one cannot be beaten for acquiring knowledge right?'

But I think my favourite is: "You can achieve the unachievable" It gives me hope that someday I'll be able to have a lie-in at HH's without getting tawsed out of bed!

Yes, I like my new book very much. Hope the toppy types in my life appreciate the efforts I go to to keep them on their toes...

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...

Pure girl porn

Apart from the beatings, role playing and the great group of new friends, my absolute fav thing about this thing we do is the endless opportunities to indulge my shopping fetish!

Like most of the other girls I know in the scene, I delight in collecting new clothing, especially when I NEED to have it for this scene or that. Things like knickers being the main downfall for a quick hit, with stockings and white socks not far off :)

While other things take a lot of planning and sourcing and I love the thrill of the chase in getting the perfect outfit together. I started off easy, the basic school girl; socks, skirt, shirt and tie. Then turned it up a notch with sexy schoolgirl; stockings, suspenders, even shorter skirt, shirt tied above my belly button. I now have several varieties, from American to Irish to Japanese to my very grown up Lowewood one; black blazer, short skirt (very short some might say!) and black heels.

My next serious challenge was to go to Nimhneach and not wear a school uniform. Luckily Lollipop was on hand to help me finding something suitable. We trawled the shops of Dublin and came up with a black corset, red pvc hotpants, black fishnets and dangerously high heels.

Now I am in the middle of my biggest challenge yet, decking myself out for a Regency House Party. Although Lady Grace proved a little bit too cheeky for Lord Fawcett's liking, he and Mrs Derby have still invited her along to the annual event. Therefore I'm determined to look the part of the sweet and innocent, (not to mention virginal!) Lady Grace.

Fortunately for me, Rebecca and Jessica were generous in lending dresses and providing links to other accessories and I'm almost there with what I need, including reticules (not as naughty as they sound!) and bloomers (not as sexy as I thought they'd be!) and last weekend I spent a happy few hours in town buying ribbons and buttons and material for bits and pieces, bliss!

Now I just need to stop buying things or my bank account will disown me. Of course slave girl causes no such problems: naked and shivering, easy!

The embarrassment of kink

This kinky business has landed me in more than a few embarrassing situations lately. Usually when I have to interact with vanillas when either preparing for a kinky adventure or having just returned from one.

There was the trip to Marks&Spencers a while back to buy school shirts and socks. I definitely don't look old enough to have a daughter aged 16, and as young as I may sometimes look, I certainly don't pass for 16 myself. The embarrassment I felt was heightened by having to go back to the shop and return the shirts for a size 13 instead. I felt like such a pervert!

Or my wax appointments. I go to the same girl every time. I like her a lot cos she causes me as little pain as possible. As much as I can handle a great deal of pain in a scene, in vanilla situations I turn into a wimp!

The first time I got caught out was just after my first Nimhneach. I hadn't even thought about the fact my bottom was completely black and blue until she gave a horrified gasp and asked what happened to me. Going bright red I mumbled rugby and she oohed and ahhed at me for the rest of the appointment. Now I have to remember to pretend I still play rugby when she asks, even though I haven't played for years.

So after that I got much better at scheduling appointments before play scenes. But sometimes, like lately, there's too much play going on for that. Hence I found myself stripping off earlier this week hoping that a) she wouldn't notice the cane marks on my bottom or b) that if she did she wouldn't say anything. In the end she didn't say anything but I don't know if that was cos of the former or the latter!

And as for the saga of shortening the school skirt for Lowewood; it was probably the most mortifying of all. I'm blushing just thinking of it. I had pinned it up to the desired length. And yes that turned out to be quite a short length indeed, just barely covering my bottom. But I wanted a school uniform that was more grown up to contrast with my very proper knee length skirts and pinafores.

So off to the dressmakers with me. The one I usually go to is in a very lively part of Dublin and the people working there are your typical down to earth Dubs who have no problem saying what they think. They were horrified by the proposed length and asked several painful questions.

'Are you sure you want it this short? Is it for you? But it'll only go to here (demonstrating by putting it against me). That'll barely cover your arse'. I had to utter several assurances that it was indeed what I wanted before making my escape.

Only to have to go through it all again when collecting it. 'Oh you're the one with the skirt, very short it is, very short' said one, holding it up so the rest of the staff could see. Cue much nodding of heads and tutting all round. Finally, I was allowed to take my skirt and my leave, but not before I was warned I'd be sure to get pregnant if I went outside dressed like that!

Retail Kink

I went to the shops yesterday to buy a skirt. A black skirt for my Lowewood school day to be precise. After 3 hours, 15 shops and an amount of money I don't want to admit to spending, I came back with:

1 black skirt (almost impossible to find!);

1 black blazer (matches the skirt, couldn't resist);

1 pair of black Mary Jane shoes (a girl must have shoes);

1 pair of the cutest PJs ever (little shorts with Minnie Mouse on them);

1 white polo shirt (for netball);

5 pairs of white knee-high socks (can never have enough socks!!);

6 school blouses (3 white, 3 blue);

8 glitter pens (multi-coloured and scented!)...

....and 10 pairs of knickers (3 white, 3 pink, 3 turquoise and 1 red).

Did I mention I'm obsessive?

All in the detail

I'm a girl and I like clothes (most of us do). Now, I may not be the most glamorous or stylish of girls but I do like to wear the correct clothes for whatever occasion I'm attending. Dressing appropriately for that job interview, or night out or meeting a boy's parents for the first time. Whatever it is, the right clothes give me confidence.

Well being kinky throws up a whole new set of occasions to dress for: club nights, schooldays, reformatories, historical re-enactments. The list is endless and I find it almost as much fun to plan and find the perfect outfit as actually wearing it and playing in it!

Of course my kindred spirit in the 'props and costumes department', as she calls it, is Caroline Grey. She probably out does me in the obsessiveness stakes and really comes into her own when organising 'school' club nights out, where a group of us attend in matching uniforms. Woe betide any member of the school not wearing the appropriate outfit (and that includes the teachers!). The only point I have to pull her up on is to fix her tie properly, which I'm fanatical about!

Unfortunately Caroline and I live on different sides of this island so we rarely get to shop together. Unless it's online and we're good at that. But luckily my vanilla friend who knows I'm kinky, (let's call her Lollipop from now on) comes in very useful here.

She's not just good at being my alibi and holding the details of where I am at various times, but just as importantly very helpful with finding outfits for my various kinky events. Many a Saturday morning we can be found wandering around our favorite shopping haunts. I never realised that shops in Dublin sold so many pervertible clothes. Sometimes they're a real treasure trove of kinky delights and I'm not talking about the over-priced sex shops.

So Lollipop, God bless her, always indulges my obssessiveness. Usually along the lines of me going 'I need a ribbon for my school hat, no that's not thick enough, no that's not blue enough' etc, etc. She doesn't even bat an eyelid when I muse over hot pants or a see-through skirt or no skirt at all. And when I try the whole outfit on for her she manages to say all the right things.

"Yes you do look very slutty in that outfit...no those hot pants aren't too long...yes I can definitely see your bum...mmmmm I agree those heels are very hookerish.."

Thus knowing I have the right outfit I set out to play, already half way there to having a great scene. It's equally important the other players are also dressed appropriately, no headmaster in black leather please and don't attempt to do a school scene with me if you're holding a whip or other such non-authentic implement.

And when we do school scenes at Nimhneach, they always seem to work out well even though we're in a club surrounded by all sorts of kinksters. I guess it's because when the headmaster, cane in hand, orders you to bend over, lower your knickers and raise your skirt, that everything else fades out. It's all in the detail.