Young girl caught drinking underage, arrested and faces a conviction. Instead is sentenced to 6 cane strokes, administered by the prison govenor. Fantasy.
32 year old Muslim woman arrested for drinking alcohol. Fined €1,000, sentenced to 6 cane strokes and publicly disgraced. Reality.
Teenager sneaks out wearing an inappropriately short skirt. Her Uncle catches her and is very displeased. Gives her a sound whipping with his belt as a reminder to dress more modestly. Fantasy.
Sudanese journalist faces 40 lashes for wearing trousers in public. Reality.
Friday, August 21
Thursday, August 20
A close one
As I've posted before I have mixed feelings about public play. The thought of being reprimanded and punished in public appeals to my discipline fetish no end. But the reality is a scary prospect. Mostly it's just enough to know it could happen. As in getting the look or a firm command to behave. And then I do, cos I don't want to suffer the consequences.
But I ran very close the last time I visited HH! There was a whole 10 seconds of agony where I thought he was going to take me by the ear and position me in the corner of the nice Chinese restaurant we were in. Because HH and I have simple rules. I misbehave, I get a warning. Continue to do so and I'll be punished. End of.
We'd had a very nice meal and were relaxing with our drinks when trouble started brewing. Getting restless, Kami and I started to sword fight with our unused chopsticks (having eaten with forks). HH duly warned us to behave and leave the chopsticks for the next people to use. And then started musing about which was the most suitable corner for naughty girls to stand in!
So we were relatively good until an argument over whether the chopsticks were recyclable or not started. Again the order to behave was given. But in that tone, with the look. OK, time to stop pushing. I was already squirming on my seat.
And that's when I managed to break the chopsticks, completely by accident. Kami and Nikki laughed out loud but I couldn't join in. I was reduced to babbling apologies and promising I hadn't meant to do it. As HH stared at me my face flushed a deep red and I gave him my most pitiful look (think Puss in Boots in Shrek!). Finally he told me I was on my final warning. The relief. I really didn't want to have to go stand in that corner.
I spent the rest of the time with my head in my hands praying that the bloody waiter would hurry up and bring the bill so we could leave before my luck ran out completely!
Although looking back at it now I can enjoy the squirmy feelings. All the embarrassment of a public punishment, but without anything actually happening. Except I don't think I want to come so close again, not sure the Puss in Boots look would work twice!
But I ran very close the last time I visited HH! There was a whole 10 seconds of agony where I thought he was going to take me by the ear and position me in the corner of the nice Chinese restaurant we were in. Because HH and I have simple rules. I misbehave, I get a warning. Continue to do so and I'll be punished. End of.
We'd had a very nice meal and were relaxing with our drinks when trouble started brewing. Getting restless, Kami and I started to sword fight with our unused chopsticks (having eaten with forks). HH duly warned us to behave and leave the chopsticks for the next people to use. And then started musing about which was the most suitable corner for naughty girls to stand in!
So we were relatively good until an argument over whether the chopsticks were recyclable or not started. Again the order to behave was given. But in that tone, with the look. OK, time to stop pushing. I was already squirming on my seat.
And that's when I managed to break the chopsticks, completely by accident. Kami and Nikki laughed out loud but I couldn't join in. I was reduced to babbling apologies and promising I hadn't meant to do it. As HH stared at me my face flushed a deep red and I gave him my most pitiful look (think Puss in Boots in Shrek!). Finally he told me I was on my final warning. The relief. I really didn't want to have to go stand in that corner.
I spent the rest of the time with my head in my hands praying that the bloody waiter would hurry up and bring the bill so we could leave before my luck ran out completely!
Although looking back at it now I can enjoy the squirmy feelings. All the embarrassment of a public punishment, but without anything actually happening. Except I don't think I want to come so close again, not sure the Puss in Boots look would work twice!
Wednesday, August 19
Introducing Mr Hurty
Ok so now all the angsty, processing posts are done I can tell you about Nimhneach properly! It was so lovely to be back and catch up with old friends. And I got to watch some great scenes; DommyDarco and Submissive Star's bondage play on the pony and Dick Dastardly and Chalk's very hot A Frame scene being two of the most enjoyable ones!
And of course the night was enhanced by the presence of the wonderful Eliane, even if her uniform was a DISGRACE. I could barely look at her tie!
Overall it was a fun and interesting night and I had a couple of new experiences, not just my intense submission to Zytex. I actually played four times in total and all with new people. Very cool!
Although one of these scenes was totally Elianes' fault. As I stood beside the door waiting her return from the bathroom, Calvin decided I needed to be spanked for idling. Over I went for a short and sweet paddling, but still, totally her fault.
Then later I got to do a lovely scene with Master Retep. Over his knee I went for a strapping with his short leather strap. Lovely, slow burn that I quite enjoyed. Then face down on the couch for a tawsing. This was not so enjoyable, being a very stiff implement and Master Retep confidently whacking it down. For someone who calls himself a novice he can sure swing a tawse. I was soon squirming across the couch!
But the first scene of the night was the one that left the most marks. PaulF had long promised me a beating. Ever since we first met actually, many months ago. So my hour of reckoning had come. And then he produced Mr Hurty much to the amusement of the rest of the gang. A dressage riding crop, very aptly named by Chalk as I was to soon find out.
Given that I was only in the club 5 minutes and had no warm up whatsoever, I knew this was going to hurt. And oh my I'm not sure I can even describe how it was. Burning, intense pain that tingled long after each stroke. It bit into the skin and left bright, vivid welts on my thighs and bottom that are still clearly visible and still stings as I write this. It certainly hurt and not sure I shall be lining up to play with it again anytime soon. But I think PaulF was pleased with himself!
So all in all a fun night. Although some friends were absent and certainly missed, but I'm sure I'll catch up with them next month :)
And of course the night was enhanced by the presence of the wonderful Eliane, even if her uniform was a DISGRACE. I could barely look at her tie!
Overall it was a fun and interesting night and I had a couple of new experiences, not just my intense submission to Zytex. I actually played four times in total and all with new people. Very cool!
Although one of these scenes was totally Elianes' fault. As I stood beside the door waiting her return from the bathroom, Calvin decided I needed to be spanked for idling. Over I went for a short and sweet paddling, but still, totally her fault.
Then later I got to do a lovely scene with Master Retep. Over his knee I went for a strapping with his short leather strap. Lovely, slow burn that I quite enjoyed. Then face down on the couch for a tawsing. This was not so enjoyable, being a very stiff implement and Master Retep confidently whacking it down. For someone who calls himself a novice he can sure swing a tawse. I was soon squirming across the couch!
But the first scene of the night was the one that left the most marks. PaulF had long promised me a beating. Ever since we first met actually, many months ago. So my hour of reckoning had come. And then he produced Mr Hurty much to the amusement of the rest of the gang. A dressage riding crop, very aptly named by Chalk as I was to soon find out.
Given that I was only in the club 5 minutes and had no warm up whatsoever, I knew this was going to hurt. And oh my I'm not sure I can even describe how it was. Burning, intense pain that tingled long after each stroke. It bit into the skin and left bright, vivid welts on my thighs and bottom that are still clearly visible and still stings as I write this. It certainly hurt and not sure I shall be lining up to play with it again anytime soon. But I think PaulF was pleased with himself!
So all in all a fun night. Although some friends were absent and certainly missed, but I'm sure I'll catch up with them next month :)
Tuesday, August 18
Struggling
I'm out of sorts and I can't figure out if it's cos I'm tired, stressed to high heaven at work and recently been sick.
Or is it because I played mentally too far on Saturday? Was that scene too intense? Did I push myself too far?
To be absolutely clear there was nothing wrong with the actual scene or Zytex. A hugely experienced player and one of the Nimhneach Dungeon Masters I was in very safe hands. We chatted frankly up front about my limits, my experience, what I'd done previously, my need to have my mind dominated, what I wanted to do. Safe words and safe symbols.
Then I sat and waited. Until he came to me, blindfolded me and led me away. And for the next hour I was his. At the time I was certainly enjoying it, totally immersed in the sub space, reveling in his dominance, proud of my obedience.
Both my mind and body reacted eagerly to him. And at all times I felt safe and comfortable, in control of myself, in control of my lack of control. I challenged myself to obey. To see if I could do it. And I was exhilarated by it. Afterwards I was happily in sub space. I glowed with it.
But the next day I crashed. Hard. And I'm still down. Still struggling with my thoughts. I've tried to write up the scene and can't. The words won't come out. I don't want to share the details. Is this more than sub drop?
Is it because the recollection of what I did, allowed to be done to me, asked to be done to me, is too much? Tied up naked, probed intimately, as others watched. Suffered willingly, gave control away. Maybe because it was public? Or was it because I went unexpectedly deep? Was it cos I didn't want it to end? Or cos I didn't have enough coming down time.
Or was it because I'm scared of my reaction. How easily he controlled me. How willingly I obeyed. I'm not submissive. I don't want to be anyone's slave. It's not a play or lifestyle choice for me. And I'm worried about where it will go and what I will become.
But it thrilled me at the time. I didn't want it to end. I loved the simplicity of giving up control. The idea of blind trust and following orders. And how wonderful it felt. And I'm scared because consciously I don't want to be like that.
But maybe unconsciously I do.
Or is it because I played mentally too far on Saturday? Was that scene too intense? Did I push myself too far?
To be absolutely clear there was nothing wrong with the actual scene or Zytex. A hugely experienced player and one of the Nimhneach Dungeon Masters I was in very safe hands. We chatted frankly up front about my limits, my experience, what I'd done previously, my need to have my mind dominated, what I wanted to do. Safe words and safe symbols.
Then I sat and waited. Until he came to me, blindfolded me and led me away. And for the next hour I was his. At the time I was certainly enjoying it, totally immersed in the sub space, reveling in his dominance, proud of my obedience.
Both my mind and body reacted eagerly to him. And at all times I felt safe and comfortable, in control of myself, in control of my lack of control. I challenged myself to obey. To see if I could do it. And I was exhilarated by it. Afterwards I was happily in sub space. I glowed with it.
But the next day I crashed. Hard. And I'm still down. Still struggling with my thoughts. I've tried to write up the scene and can't. The words won't come out. I don't want to share the details. Is this more than sub drop?
Is it because the recollection of what I did, allowed to be done to me, asked to be done to me, is too much? Tied up naked, probed intimately, as others watched. Suffered willingly, gave control away. Maybe because it was public? Or was it because I went unexpectedly deep? Was it cos I didn't want it to end? Or cos I didn't have enough coming down time.
Or was it because I'm scared of my reaction. How easily he controlled me. How willingly I obeyed. I'm not submissive. I don't want to be anyone's slave. It's not a play or lifestyle choice for me. And I'm worried about where it will go and what I will become.
But it thrilled me at the time. I didn't want it to end. I loved the simplicity of giving up control. The idea of blind trust and following orders. And how wonderful it felt. And I'm scared because consciously I don't want to be like that.
But maybe unconsciously I do.
Monday, August 17
A very dirty girl
The girls at St. Mary's Catholic School were well accustomed to corporal punishment, receiving it regularly from their class teachers. The ruler or strap across their hands being the usual punishment.
It was very rare for a girl to be sent to the Headmaster, and when they were, punishment usually took place after supper in his study. The miserable girl would then be seen slipping into her dorm at bedtime, with tears of pain and shame on her face, refusing to talk of her punishment.
Other girls wondered what he used; the cane, a strap, a switch? What was so terribly unspeakable?
Maria's summons came as no surprise to anyone. Having been being caught outside with a boy at the annual local schools' social, it was inevitable. They had only been talking, not even holding hands, but the school curate Fr. Martin was enraged that a St. Mary's girl could be found unchaperoned with a boy.
She was almost glad the summons came so quickly, arriving the next day from her class teacher.
At the appointed hour she arrived at the Headmaster's door. She had taken extra care with her uniform, immaculately turned out in her grey shirt, modest green pinafore that fell well below her knees, long grey socks, green and yellow striped tie and grey jumper. A St. Mary's girl must look and act like a paragon of virtue at all times, how many times had she been told that?
On granting her permission to enter he stood her before him and lectured her on her disgraceful conduct. His disgust at her behaviour, her lack of respect for herself and her school. He spoke of Fr Martin's outrage and the need to reinforce the moral code. He spoke of her parents and their disappointment and anger at how she flaunted herself to that boy like a common tramp.
His words were harsh and at every utterance her self-belief and confidence wore away. Beginning to believe him, starting to agree she was a tramp, a disgrace to her family. Her cheeks burned in shame. She was too scared to argue back, to protest they were only talking, that she wasn't the dirty girl he was implying. She hung her head, succumbing to his lecture, starting to hate herself.
Finally his words ended and he signalled her punishment would start. She fearfully glanced around, was it a cane, a strap, a birch?
But no, he placed himself on a high backed chair and ordered her to come to his side. She stood where he indicated, completely confused. And before she could register what was happening, he pulled her over his knee.
Dropping her head in mortification her mind whirled: What was he doing? She'd never been put across anyone's knee in her life. Had never been so close to a man. Her face flushed deeper with shame, her feet barely touching the floor, feeling very small.
And he hadn't even started anything yet. Worse was to come. She couldn't help putting her hand back as he started to slowly lift her skirt, but he was having none of that, firmly ordering her to keep her hands on the floor and to stay in position.
Her humiliation intensified as he inched her skirt up, past the backs of her knees, past her thighs and up over her bottom. For the first time in her school life she was thankful for the thick cotton knickers that covered her bottom entirely.
The relief was short-lived however, and she whimpered as he hooked his fingers into the thick elastic at the waist and drew her knickers down. No man had every seen her bottom naked, it was too much, she tried to get up but he held her down, warning her it would be much worse if she didn't stay still and take her punishment. Threatening to bring Fr Martin in to witness it. This dreadful thought immobilised her.
With her knickers down to her knees, he rested his right hand on her bottom, his left holding her firmly by the waist. Seconds past like minutes as she waited for it to start, but he was in no hurry. The silence was unbearable and she was mortifying conscious of her position, imagining what she must look like, pinafore up, knickers down, bare bottom over this man's knee, any man's knee. It was too much for her and she began to cry softly.
As if in response to her crying he stroked her bottom slowly, rubbing each cheek in circles to the tops of her thighs. He seemed in no hurry to start the spanking. His rubbing embarrassed her more, his touch making her feel sick inside. What was he doing? Why was he touching her? And all the time not a word from him. Her tears continued to fall and she prayed it would be over soon.
Eventually he lifted his right hand, tightening his grip with his left hand pushing her down firmly onto his knees. She braced herself for the first smack, but the gentle pat that followed was unexpected. For several minutes he spanked her gently all over her bottom, moving in a circle, pat, pat, pat. It didn't hurt at all.
But still he held her firmly, stopping occasionally to rub her bottom. Then resuming his patting, all the time not saying a word. This continued for some time. Until finally the smacks got harder, and she was really starting to feel it, struggling to stay still. After making her bottom hot and sore all over, he moved to her thighs and the sharp smacks made her kick and squirm across his lap
In response he swung his right leg behind her knees, effectively pinning her in place. And resumed his gentle patting. She decided this was worse, at least when he was hurting her she could forget the humiliation of her position. And being trapped between his legs was even more mortifying. She was also becoming uncomfortably aware of a definite hardness pressing into her tummy.
As her confused brain tried to process the sensation, he once again increased the tempo of the spanking, harder now; much harder. It was impossible to stay still and she squirmed and wriggled against him. Her cries growing more frantic as the pain intensified. There was no respite, no more rubbing, no more gentle patting: no sound except his laboured breathing from his exertions.
As her cries turned to sobs she began to plead with him to stop, it hurt so much, she couldn't take it anymore. For the first time her spoke to her, telling her over and over that she was a 'very naughty girl', a 'very, very naughty girl', spanking her harder and harder, until he gave a strangled gasp and stopped suddenly.
She felt him shake beneath her and didn't know what to do. Was he ill? Had he taken a turn? In terror she lay there, afraid to move or talk.
'Get up and get out' he finally told her, pushing her off his knee. 'And don't ever let me see you in here again or you won't get off so lightly'. In total bewilderment she fixed her clothing, not daring to look at him, as she crept out of the office.
And returned to her dorm in tears, feeling sick at what just happened. Knowing that is was all her fault. She was a very, dirty girl.
It was very rare for a girl to be sent to the Headmaster, and when they were, punishment usually took place after supper in his study. The miserable girl would then be seen slipping into her dorm at bedtime, with tears of pain and shame on her face, refusing to talk of her punishment.
Other girls wondered what he used; the cane, a strap, a switch? What was so terribly unspeakable?
Maria's summons came as no surprise to anyone. Having been being caught outside with a boy at the annual local schools' social, it was inevitable. They had only been talking, not even holding hands, but the school curate Fr. Martin was enraged that a St. Mary's girl could be found unchaperoned with a boy.
She was almost glad the summons came so quickly, arriving the next day from her class teacher.
At the appointed hour she arrived at the Headmaster's door. She had taken extra care with her uniform, immaculately turned out in her grey shirt, modest green pinafore that fell well below her knees, long grey socks, green and yellow striped tie and grey jumper. A St. Mary's girl must look and act like a paragon of virtue at all times, how many times had she been told that?
On granting her permission to enter he stood her before him and lectured her on her disgraceful conduct. His disgust at her behaviour, her lack of respect for herself and her school. He spoke of Fr Martin's outrage and the need to reinforce the moral code. He spoke of her parents and their disappointment and anger at how she flaunted herself to that boy like a common tramp.
His words were harsh and at every utterance her self-belief and confidence wore away. Beginning to believe him, starting to agree she was a tramp, a disgrace to her family. Her cheeks burned in shame. She was too scared to argue back, to protest they were only talking, that she wasn't the dirty girl he was implying. She hung her head, succumbing to his lecture, starting to hate herself.
Finally his words ended and he signalled her punishment would start. She fearfully glanced around, was it a cane, a strap, a birch?
But no, he placed himself on a high backed chair and ordered her to come to his side. She stood where he indicated, completely confused. And before she could register what was happening, he pulled her over his knee.
Dropping her head in mortification her mind whirled: What was he doing? She'd never been put across anyone's knee in her life. Had never been so close to a man. Her face flushed deeper with shame, her feet barely touching the floor, feeling very small.
And he hadn't even started anything yet. Worse was to come. She couldn't help putting her hand back as he started to slowly lift her skirt, but he was having none of that, firmly ordering her to keep her hands on the floor and to stay in position.
Her humiliation intensified as he inched her skirt up, past the backs of her knees, past her thighs and up over her bottom. For the first time in her school life she was thankful for the thick cotton knickers that covered her bottom entirely.
The relief was short-lived however, and she whimpered as he hooked his fingers into the thick elastic at the waist and drew her knickers down. No man had every seen her bottom naked, it was too much, she tried to get up but he held her down, warning her it would be much worse if she didn't stay still and take her punishment. Threatening to bring Fr Martin in to witness it. This dreadful thought immobilised her.
With her knickers down to her knees, he rested his right hand on her bottom, his left holding her firmly by the waist. Seconds past like minutes as she waited for it to start, but he was in no hurry. The silence was unbearable and she was mortifying conscious of her position, imagining what she must look like, pinafore up, knickers down, bare bottom over this man's knee, any man's knee. It was too much for her and she began to cry softly.
As if in response to her crying he stroked her bottom slowly, rubbing each cheek in circles to the tops of her thighs. He seemed in no hurry to start the spanking. His rubbing embarrassed her more, his touch making her feel sick inside. What was he doing? Why was he touching her? And all the time not a word from him. Her tears continued to fall and she prayed it would be over soon.
Eventually he lifted his right hand, tightening his grip with his left hand pushing her down firmly onto his knees. She braced herself for the first smack, but the gentle pat that followed was unexpected. For several minutes he spanked her gently all over her bottom, moving in a circle, pat, pat, pat. It didn't hurt at all.
But still he held her firmly, stopping occasionally to rub her bottom. Then resuming his patting, all the time not saying a word. This continued for some time. Until finally the smacks got harder, and she was really starting to feel it, struggling to stay still. After making her bottom hot and sore all over, he moved to her thighs and the sharp smacks made her kick and squirm across his lap
In response he swung his right leg behind her knees, effectively pinning her in place. And resumed his gentle patting. She decided this was worse, at least when he was hurting her she could forget the humiliation of her position. And being trapped between his legs was even more mortifying. She was also becoming uncomfortably aware of a definite hardness pressing into her tummy.
As her confused brain tried to process the sensation, he once again increased the tempo of the spanking, harder now; much harder. It was impossible to stay still and she squirmed and wriggled against him. Her cries growing more frantic as the pain intensified. There was no respite, no more rubbing, no more gentle patting: no sound except his laboured breathing from his exertions.
As her cries turned to sobs she began to plead with him to stop, it hurt so much, she couldn't take it anymore. For the first time her spoke to her, telling her over and over that she was a 'very naughty girl', a 'very, very naughty girl', spanking her harder and harder, until he gave a strangled gasp and stopped suddenly.
She felt him shake beneath her and didn't know what to do. Was he ill? Had he taken a turn? In terror she lay there, afraid to move or talk.
'Get up and get out' he finally told her, pushing her off his knee. 'And don't ever let me see you in here again or you won't get off so lightly'. In total bewilderment she fixed her clothing, not daring to look at him, as she crept out of the office.
And returned to her dorm in tears, feeling sick at what just happened. Knowing that is was all her fault. She was a very, dirty girl.
Sunday, August 16
Processing...
Tonight I was truly submissive and all in public. Stripped, molested, bound and beaten. He started with my mind and then took my body. I'm still trying to process it, understand it, overcome it? I'm still dazed. Need to lie down and let it wash over me. Breathe.
For that precise period of time, how long was it, 10 minutes, half an hour, an hour? Time had no meaning. I felt owned. He ordered and I obeyed. 'Kneel - spread your legs - hands behind your back - open your mouth'. Led and I followed.
Blindfolded me. Stripped me. Flogged me, all over. His fingers probed and pinched and I whimpered in pain. Bound me tight, hands high above my head, legs stretched apart, writhing in vain to escape the torture.
Took the blindfold off. Made me watch the knife scraping my skin. Looked into his eyes as he caused me pain. Looked into the faces of the onlookers witnessing my shame.
Gave him control. Forced myself to let go, to relax, to submit. Wanted to see if I could do it. Wanted to know what would it achieve.
A state of nothingness, of existing but not existing. Exquisite sense of being.
Sensations of pain. Heightened awareness, smell and touch. Underlying fear. Blind, but complete, trust. Deep subspace. Radical ecstasy. Warm feelings. More please. More.
For that precise period of time, how long was it, 10 minutes, half an hour, an hour? Time had no meaning. I felt owned. He ordered and I obeyed. 'Kneel - spread your legs - hands behind your back - open your mouth'. Led and I followed.
Blindfolded me. Stripped me. Flogged me, all over. His fingers probed and pinched and I whimpered in pain. Bound me tight, hands high above my head, legs stretched apart, writhing in vain to escape the torture.
Took the blindfold off. Made me watch the knife scraping my skin. Looked into his eyes as he caused me pain. Looked into the faces of the onlookers witnessing my shame.
Gave him control. Forced myself to let go, to relax, to submit. Wanted to see if I could do it. Wanted to know what would it achieve.
A state of nothingness, of existing but not existing. Exquisite sense of being.
Sensations of pain. Heightened awareness, smell and touch. Underlying fear. Blind, but complete, trust. Deep subspace. Radical ecstasy. Warm feelings. More please. More.
Saturday, August 15
Nimh-citement
I've been having a lot of fun over the past 3 months, as detailed on here! Nearly all of that fun has been across the water as I've been getting to know my new friends and attending the great parties and events they've so kindly been inviting me to. And it's been great.
But unfortunately some seriously bad planning and timing of events has meant that I've missed out on our local BDSM club night, Nimhneach, 3 months in a row! It's usually held once a month and since I started going last year, I had never missed a night up until the May one.
So I'm really looking forward to catching up with some old friends as well as some new ones I've been chatting to online. And even though more than one toppy type has warned me I'll be beaten for my absences, I reckon I'll still have a fab time.
Not least because all my visits across the water are paying off and this weekend I have one of my own. The fabulous Eliane is here and shall be in attendance. The two of us manage to get into enough trouble in London so goodness knows what will happen when she's under my entire influence for the weekend!
I'm sure we'll give her a very warm Irish welcome! And my lovely friend Chalk has promised cake. It should be a visit to remember..
So I'm thrilled to be going to Nimhneach. It holds a very special place in my heart for many reasons. The first being the fact that it actually exists. I lived in this city for years, thinking I was the only kinky girl here. Little did I know that just across the river was a whole group of my kind of people. Intelligent like-minded kinksters, up for a chat, kinky fun and of course the famous Irish craic.
It's also the first place I did any public play and have done some amazingly intense scenes there, as well as played with some great friends. But my favourite part of Nimhneach is when DJ Paddy puts on MGMT's 'Kids' and I dance away in my school uniform, completely and blissfully free. There really is nothing like it, so let the Nimh-citement continue!
But unfortunately some seriously bad planning and timing of events has meant that I've missed out on our local BDSM club night, Nimhneach, 3 months in a row! It's usually held once a month and since I started going last year, I had never missed a night up until the May one.
So I'm really looking forward to catching up with some old friends as well as some new ones I've been chatting to online. And even though more than one toppy type has warned me I'll be beaten for my absences, I reckon I'll still have a fab time.
Not least because all my visits across the water are paying off and this weekend I have one of my own. The fabulous Eliane is here and shall be in attendance. The two of us manage to get into enough trouble in London so goodness knows what will happen when she's under my entire influence for the weekend!
I'm sure we'll give her a very warm Irish welcome! And my lovely friend Chalk has promised cake. It should be a visit to remember..
So I'm thrilled to be going to Nimhneach. It holds a very special place in my heart for many reasons. The first being the fact that it actually exists. I lived in this city for years, thinking I was the only kinky girl here. Little did I know that just across the river was a whole group of my kind of people. Intelligent like-minded kinksters, up for a chat, kinky fun and of course the famous Irish craic.
It's also the first place I did any public play and have done some amazingly intense scenes there, as well as played with some great friends. But my favourite part of Nimhneach is when DJ Paddy puts on MGMT's 'Kids' and I dance away in my school uniform, completely and blissfully free. There really is nothing like it, so let the Nimh-citement continue!
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