Trust

I really enjoyed all the comments about my scene with Abel and HH. It was gratifying to think I managed to convey the intensity of the scene. Something I often find hard to do.

Chatting to HH last night we laughed over those who jokingly said I was 'insane' or 'brave' to play with he and Abel at once. Of course I was neither.

By now I have played with both countless times and as their reputations speak louder than I can, both are two of the most experienced players in the scene. And the more I've played with them the better they know me, can read my reactions and know what I need.

And while as a duo they are very terrifying to the scene character, to me, Emma Jane, I feel safer than any other scene. When I play with both of them, the one not whacking me is observing, reading things he with the cane cannot see. Picking up on whether the screams mean I need to stop, whether the tears are good, whether my skin is actually suffering serious damage.

Therefore, knowing both of them are there, allows me to completely and utterly switch off, give up every ounce of control. It allows me to go very, very deep into head space. And when I'm that deep no matter how hard you beat me I won't safeword. I have gone past that.

Which is why HH paused in that scene before he caned me, to check for himself if I could carry on. My look giving him the signal be needed. And when we continued I was safe again knowing that this time, Abel was watching me carefully.

So having two tops there acts as an extra safety net; having Abel and HH together is the ultimate freedom. Going that deep with someone I didn't absolutely trust, now that would be insane.

Dealing with the drop

The dreaded 'drop' is something I've had to get used as a major downside of all these great weekends. Not only my own drop but everyone else's around me. On Sunday evening after many friends had departed and there were only a few of us left we all dropped collectively while out for dinner. Struggling to make conversation, trying not to think about the ever nearing Monday.

And when we got back to the house I found myself faced with re-packing my case with so much less enthusiasm than it had been originally packed. The tears came suddenly, taking me by surprise. I was very glad to be alone. While the logical side of me knew it was just a release that I needed, I'm very shy about crying in front of people outside of a scene.

Happily exhaustion soon claimed me from feeling sorry for myself and I collapsed into bed, knowing that would be the worst of the drop for me. For I have discovered a way around it: sheer exhaustion.

Most of these weekends I return to Dublin at the crack of dawn, heading straight into work. It means I'm barely awake enough to function at a physical level, let alone at an emotional one. Having to go straight into work and put on the responsible, grown-up hat while fighting the tiredness as another manic day claims me. Then to home and write and write until I feel sated, before collapsing into bed again.

It meant that by the time today rolled around I was delightedly musing over the weekend and giggling at the goings on, ruefully surveying the marks and bruises and flying high again!

The error of her ways

I knew when Jenkins summoned me that the time for punishment had come. His anger emanated in waves as he hauled me roughly into Sir Henry's study. Although his voice was sharp with me, he very respectful to his Lordship.

I trembled as I was made to stand before them both, my eyes downcast on the floor.

Jenkins explained that I had been found 5 miles away on the road to London with several pieces of the family silver on my person, but that her Ladyship's jewels were not to be found. He grabbed my hair as he spoke, and forced me to look at his Lordship.

"Tell his Lordship where her Ladyships's jewels are" he ordered. I could not find my voice and looked at him mutely, until I felt a sharp slap across my face. It was followed swiftly by another until I babbled that I had only taken the silver, not the jewels.

"A likely story, m'Lord", Jenkins pulled my hair even tighter, bringing tears to my eyes. "In your service but a year and look how she repays you, stealing your silver and her Ladyship's jewels and running off. I've very sorry for ever taking her on", Jenkins apologised, glaring at me angrily.

Sir Henry stood before me, his hand roughly raising my chin to meet his eyes.

"I'm going to make you very sorry for this, you thieving girl" he spat, "But first I must find my wife's jewels". He released me pushing me backwards. "Search her. Thoroughly" he ordered Jenkins. "She may have the jewels hidden on her".

Jenkins ordered me to strip off, and with trembling hands I obeyed. As I divested my clothing he searched each thoroughly but found nothing. I hesitated at taking off my under garments, my hands would not obey, but Jenkins grabbed my arms while Sir Henry quickly finished stripping me. Finally, I stood before them naked, trying desperately to cover my modesty.

"Continue searching her" Sir Henry commanded. "Everywhere". I did not know what he meant until Jenkins forced my mouth open and poked inside with his fingers.

Shaking his head at Sir Henry he then pushed me across the desk, kicking my legs apart, making me feel so exposed. But worse was to come. I twisted my head at the sound of a rubber glove, terrified at what they might do to me.

Holding me down firmly with one hand Jenkins put his fingers inside me, in my most intimate place. He probed me roughly making me cry out in pain and shame. But when he turned his attentions to my other orifice I started to struggle wildly but could not remove him. Such pain, I thought it would never stop.

"Nothing there m'Lord" Jenkins reported, removing his glove.

"Well I think I had better check, just to be sure" his Lordship replied and once again my orifices were painfully probed.

Once he had satisfied himself that I concealed nothing he stood me before him asking if I wished to remain in the house, was I sorry for my crime? To which I sobbed apologies and begged forgiveness.

Jenkins' opinion was asked for and he conceded I had been a good maid but I would need to be severely punished to remind me to behave in future. My eyes widened in terror at this but I meekly obeyed when told to place myself over the desk again.

Sir Henry held me down and from the corner of my eye I could see Jenkins lifting a heavy cane.

"I'm going to flog you til you scream girl" he told me, tapping the rod on my bare bottom. "I've never been so let down by someone I've hired, in all my years of working here".

With that the first stroke of the rod burned across me and I yelped loudly, trying to twist away, but Sir Henry held me firm. Again and again the rod fell, with barely any time in between in which I could get any respite. It was not long before I was screaming aloud. I do not know how many he gave me, 20, perhaps 30, it all blurred in an agony of fire until I was crying for mercy. I had been flogged before but never with such intensity.

When he had finally paused he offered the rod to Sir Henry and took his turn to hold me down. Again the rod whipped down on on me, again causing such pain I screamed once more. Although it was severe, there were not as many as Jenkins had given me, and when he had done with me I lay slumped over the desk in agony.

"Lock her in her room for a few days" Sir Henry dismissed us. "If she has swallowed the jewels we shall soon know".

Weeping silently I was dragged naked out of the room by Jenkins, my clothes clutched in my hands. I would never steal again.

Just a tease

I'm a very lucky girl who gets to play with a lot of great people, both tops and bottoms and switches and what not. But when you take the labels off, these are people I happily count amongst my good friends. (Including one very delightful girl I've only just met but after a few days in her company recognise as another kindred spirit!)

Amongst all the play at the weekend I found myself looking round the room of people and thinking I was obscenely happy to be with them.

As for the actual play, considering I've had practically 3 days of continuous whacking with so many scenes that were so amazing it's no wonder I know not where to start with blogging. But I do swear I shall write up as many as I can and do feel free to beat me if I don't deliver.

Hopefully by the end of the week you'll have heard about:

- Eliane and my's trip to Headmaster Higgins. A first visit for her, alas not the first for me;

- When Emma Jane was given a band of fire to demonstrate to a new girl just how painful it was, followed by a dual beating by both Jessica and Miss Cavendish;

- When Caoilfhionn and Felicity met Juliet in full-on scary mode and were severely punished, partly because we'd been naughty, and partly cause she's just a lil bit evil;

- Then there was the party where the Irish Terror faced off against the Mighty Jew and the Kinky Catholic in an oil wrestling death match;

- I can't forget the first time beating by Martha and her boyfriend. She picked the implements out, he thoroughly did the beating;

- And most scary of all, how the maid got dealt with for stealing by the terrifying duo of Mr Jenkins and Sir Henry!

Being disciplined

"Go upstairs and fetch a cane"

The seriousness of the tone cut right through my merry mood. I looked at him, unsure of what to do. Brat it out, make a fuss or just obey? His answering look was stern and expectant, brooking no argument. Up to his study I went, suddenly feeling very nervous. This wasn't a prepared scene. His intention was to punish me, discipline me, Emma Jane.

He'd never done that before.

And I'd apologised immediately. It wasn't my intention that putting an ice-cube down his trousers would culminate in him falling on the floor, banging his elbow quite nastily. I did feel bad.

In the study I panicked and selected the first cane I saw. Unfortunately, it just happened to be one of his dragon canes. I slowly made my way back downstairs and gave it to him, afraid to look him in the eye.

We've played many times by now, Abel and I. I've suffered countless strokes at his hands, have had to bend over and bare my bottom on his command so often. And yet this time it might as well have been the first, for the apprehension I felt.

One final plead that I was sorry, that it had really been an accident. Quietly being told he understood I hadn't meant it, but such misbehaviour had to be dealt with.

Over I went, hands on knees, dress lifted up. He took my knickers down. 6 sharp cuts of the cane rained down. Just enough time between each to burn to their full potential. Pain, pain, pain. I had to to try very hard to stay still and not put my hands back.

The relief of finishing, being allowed to straighten and fix my clothing and then a lovely forgiving hug. But as I turned away I couldn't help but say it was hardly my fault that he fell, I was so much smaller than he.

I was made to regret it instantly. Over I went again, for another 6, all as hard as the previous set. This time I wriggled and gasped and determined to keep my mouth shut if he ever stopped beating me.

And when it was finally over I was careful not to say anything to get me into further trouble. Just enjoyed my hugs and reflected on such an intense scene and how real it was. Proper discipline, not enjoyed at the time, but that wonderful cathartic feeling when it was over.

(III) You know you're a pervert when...

You know you're a pervert when you constantly pervert reality.

Like last week when I was driving to work. I passed a group of very neatly dressed school children being marched along the pavement. All about 16 or 17 the boys were smartly attired in navy slacks, blue shirt, navy blazer and striped ties.The girls wore matching uniforms, with skirts down well below their knees. They were being marshaled along by a couple of teachers, who all happened to be older gentlemen.

One of the gentlemen stood at the pedestrian crossing ushering the students across quickly before the lights changed and I realised they were heading to a nearby church. The gentleman was quite distinguished and very imposing as he heralded the students across the road, at one stage holding his hand up imperiously to halt the traffic. (He was lucky not to be run over, tis a brave man that gets in the way of Dublin rush hour!). I determined this man to be the Headmaster.

As I was waiting for the lights to change I noticed a few stragglers accompanied by another teacher, arriving at the now red lights. The Headmaster did not seem pleased.

While I couldn't hear what he was saying, I was imagining the other teacher explaining he had found the girls trying to slip off on their own. There'd be a lecture of course and 3 shame faced girls would dash into the back of the church just as mass began knowing a trip to the Headmaster's study, and no doubt 6 of the best, would await them back at school.

Little does she know

Hmmm sometimes my vanilla friends say things in jest that is are true about me I have to be very careful not to give anything away with my reactions.

Like today at work. I had a very sore tooth and was complaining about it. A colleagues offered painkillers and I refused saying I'd wait and see if it got worse before taking anything.

Colleague replies "Oh like a bit of pain do ya. You're so like 'go on give me some more pain, I love it', right?"

I laughed along. "Oh yeah, I'm a total masochist me. Make it hurt so good"

Little did she know I was speaking the truth ;)