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I wonder what the neighbours think? I imagine they must notice the strange noises that occasionally emanate from my flat. I'm quite lucky that I don't have any interconnecting walls, but the noise does seem to travel between floors. I try and close all the doors, and make sure the TV or radio is on. Some implements don't make very much noise (though I suspect I make rather more!), but of course some, like hands, make quite a lot. So do they hear? What do they think is happening? And more to the point, do I even care? You know, I'm not sure I do.
Well, I survived the vanilla weekend, just about, though I had to bite my tongue on at least a couple of occasions. The first was on the Friday evening - we usually end up with some sort of revelation, or announcement: "I'm pregnant", "I'm getting divorced", "I've got a new job". There were no new revelations this time, much to people's disappointment, and there were several comments along the lines of "there must be SOME sort of revelation!!" I was so, so tempted to give in and just say "yes, actually, I *do* have a revelation, and this one really will shock you!" I resisted though.The next night we were talking about objectives. For some reason at the last get together one particularly efficient friend made us all make objectives to be completed before the next get together. She was trying to get a new set out of us for the coming year. I could only think of one: "to get spanked more". Needless to say, I didn't share it. Wasn't I restrained?!
I've been thinking a lot about lying this week, prompted mostly by an impending weekend away with a group of vanilla friends, and the inevitable question, "what have you been up to, then?"
I hate lying, as much as I hate being lied to. I'm not particularly good at it, I feel very uncomfortable doing it, and I have a hard time understanding why people would want to lie. This is one of the reasons why I have told people I think I can trust about what I've REALLY been up to recently. I suppose, though, that this lifestyle makes liars of us all to a certain extent. Even those people who only spank within their marriage have probably had to lie if asked those "what gives your marriage that special something" questions. I would imagine there are very few people who have revealed their real identities on their blogs or in their comments. The chances are that we all lie in small ways every day about TTWD.
I suppose the way I cope with having to lie, especially to my friends, is by making sure that my lies are more of the "omission of facts" variety, rather than out and out untruths. Semantics, I know, but it makes me feel better about things. So I will be spending the weekend being very careful about what I say and how I say it. The compensation will be that I get to spend the weekend in the company of some lovely people.
I used to have kinky dreams all the time. They were fabulous things, full of all sorts of fun and games. I would wake up remembering them, feeling so turned on, and so having enjoyed my overnight fantasies where my subconscious ran wild. I miss those days. I probably only have one kinky dream a month now. One!! It's a pathetic amount, especially for a kinky girl. I mean, surely now I'm doing this stuff in real life, I should have even more things to process and dream about? But no, one pathetic, lonely kinky dream a month. It's so sad. I have two theories for this state of affairs. The first is that Abel and Haron, who seem to have bountiful kinky dreams, have stolen all available supplies, and this is where my dreams have gone - to that greedy pair. The second, and possibly more likely, theory is that I am now fulfilling those subconscious desires in real life so my brain has no need to process all those slightly suppressed feelings. Which of course, can only be a good thing, but I still miss my kinky dreams :-(
9I went to a traditional school, and, regardless of what people may think nowadays, was quite the well-behaved little swot. So, in time, I reached the sixth form and became a prefect. As prefects, we had our own little common room, with a tiny kitchenette, and a TV and radio, where we could go in our break times and free periods. It was also a place where we could summon the little darlings from lower down the school when they had misbehaved. Of course, I'm too young to have been at secondary school when corporal punishment was still customary, and I don't know whether prefects at my school had ever been allowed to punish others in that way. That being said, the common room was over 100 years old, so there's a good chance that at some point in it's history, the pupils waiting to be called in were not there to be told to write a 500 word essay describing the inside of a ping-pong ball, but to receive a much harsher form of punishment. On an intellectual level, I am very glad that those days are long gone. However, on a baser level, I can't help but fantasise over those GORGEOUS prefects who were my gods when I was lower down the school, and wonder what would have happened if they were allowed to wield canes, and if I had been a whole lot naughtier than I actually was... sigh :-)
I happened to be walking passed the mirror yesterday as I was in the middle of getting dressed, and I caught sight of my bottom. Now, I'm not really one for liking any part of my body, but I stopped for a minute to look, and an odd thought went through my head... "I've got quite a nice bum". I nearly fell over in surprise as this unexpected thought, but then I looked again and tried to be objective. Yes, the rest of me isn't great, but my bum itself is not too bad. It seems to be quite pleasingly bum shaped, it sticks out a nice amount, not too much and not too little. It has a nice curve back under, it's well proportioned. It was framed nicely as I looked at it in my Dizzy Mare knickers (very appropriate) and a suspender belt. So what to do with this revelation? Well, maybe, just maybe, as I walk along this morning, I might give my bum a little wiggle of pride and feel a little better about the world. Here's to bottoms.
I am celebrating an anniversary today. Nope, it's not my birthday. Nor is it my blog's birthday. It's a year since the birth of "Eliane", my kinky alter-ego. (What, you mean you thought Eliane was my real name?!) One year ago today, March 21st 2008, I created an account on Informed Consent, the UK BDSM website. It was my first step into the real-life kinky world. Since then, I've had my first (of many) real life spanking. I've played with 6 guys and one girl; had probably at least 20 implements used on me; bought a good 10 myself; learnt to fear canes and love floggers. I've discovered what I like and what I don't; I've met a whole load of people who made me realise that no, I'm actually not a freak, and who hopefully will be friends on this journey for a long time to come. I've started a blog. I've told seven of my vanilla friends that I'm kinky; hell, I've even told my mother. So all in all, a pretty damn good year. So please join me in raising a glass of your favourite tipple (mine's a Champagne please) to Eliane's first birthday. Long may she continue to be the happy and fulfilled kinky girl she has become in the last year.
I'm just trying to work through some things in my head, so bear with me. Mostly, as usual, it's around pain thresholds and how I react to spankings. I got spanked the other night (and incidentally, OWWWW, my bum HURT after!) and by rights my pain threshold should have been pretty low, given where I was in my cycle, bla bla bla. Now, I automatically assume that I'm being a wimp in any given situation, but I was assured that I was in fact taking quite a hard spanking. Whenever anyone tells me anything vaguely good about myself, or complimentary, my first reaction is to dismiss their opinion on the basis that they don't know what they are talking about. (Yes, I know, I have some issues!) But I trust the friends I was with a lot, and if they say I wasn't being a wimp, then I probably wasn't. So why the difference? Why would that spanking from someone else probably have reduced me to tears halfway through? I've come to the conclusion that a lot of it is to do with submissiveness, though probably not in the way you would expect. The more mentally submissive I'm being, I think, the more likely I am to feel the pain intensely. In this particular situation, I was not being submissive at all (well, apart from bending over). It was just fun, and so I relished the spanking and if not "enjoyed" the pain, was certainly able to take a lot more than normal. So if all spankings were just fun like that, would I be missing out on something? Yes, I probably would. I am frequently the one in control of any given situation, so being able to give up that control can be very freeing. I also think that allowing myself to cry, which I often do when I'm in a more submissive headspace, is also good for me. It seems there is a place for both types. I think for sheer enjoyment I will go with the other night's type though!
Is this the most evil implement ever? Probably not, no... some variation on a cane would probably win that. This one might well win the most evil leather implement category though. I like thuddy, but this one feels like you've been thumped.... ouch!
Watching the news this morning, I realised I have the best excuse for getting out of a birching, if I'm ever, um "offered" one. I am to a certain extent fascinated with the idea of birching. However, several people have pointed out that I don't much like canes, and birching is much worse, so I need to have a strategy to avoid a birching if the situation ever arises. Well, folks, BBC news gave me my excuse this morning. They had an item about how early the hayfever season is starting, and a particular hazard at the moment is the birch pollen. Which, conveniently enough, I'm allergic to, always have been ever since I developed hayfever when I was 12. How well do you think "I can't be birched because I'm allergic to the pollen" will go down?
I'm Twittering. Something I frequently do. No, wait, that's wittering... Anyway, I've decided to start twittering, mostly because it's nice to have somewhere to send those random thoughts that pass through my mind, especially the kinky ones, which don't always have an outlet. I'm sure none of it is of any interest to anyone else, but nevertheless, if you want to subject yourself to more of my randomness, go here.
My company is running a short story contest, to win tickets to an event. I got quite excited when I saw the mail - a short story, 500 words in length... maybe I could finish off one of the stories I started on holiday and enter that?! Then the rest of my brain caught up... yup, maybe it wouldn't be the best idea in the world to enter one of my spanking stories into a work competition!!
So there I am, watching Antiques Roadshow, when the phone rings. I put the TV on mute, and started chatting to my mother. After about five minutes my attention is drawn back to the TV by what looks like suspiciously like two whips, or canes or something. Unfortunately my mother is still talking, and it really wouldn't be polite to say "Mum, please shut up for a couple of minutes while I watch the pervy stuff on Antiques Roadshow!" I scrabbled round for the remote and managed to get the subtitles up in time to see then talking about the second item. It was worth it, as said item turns to be a polo whip. I've been to see a few polo matches, and always enjoyed them. There's something about fit men on horseback riding very fast which is rather yummy to watch. And now I can keep my eyes peeled for the whips as well.
One thing I've probably never done on here is acknowledged the huge part that my acting classes played in my ability to actually come out as kinky. I started acting classes in September 2007, though I had done amateur stuff for years as a child. I took my first steps into the real life kinky world in late March 2008 (March 21st to be exact). There is a definite correlation between the confidence I gained from acting class, and my being able to take that first step. I think confidence is the key, and loss of inhibitions. In order to be a good actor, you need to lose your inhibitions completely. If in the back of your mind, you are thinking "Wow, I feel silly doing this" or "Help, what do they think of me?" you will never fully commit to a part or be believable in it. It took a long time to lose those inhibitions. A big part of that is learning not to think. Which is very hard for me. I probably spent the whole first term thinking "What should I feel?", "Am I doing this right","Everyone else looks like they are feeling something. Am I feeling the same?" And then something clicked, and I did manage to start "leaving the crap behind", as my teacher puts it. I stopped analysing what was going on in my head every second, and I started just being in the moment, and seeing what came. And it was one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life. When the emotion just comes, or when you are acting a scene with someone else, and you look into their eyes and you know that right then, right there in the moment, what you are doing and feeling is totally real, that's one of the biggest highs I've ever felt. I come out of that class skipping, on cloud nine. I've never taken drugs (well, I have once, but that's a whole other story) but I imagine that I could never get that sort of high from drugs. So it was after 6 months of these classes that I eventually decided that I had pratted about for long enough, and it was time to use that confidence gained, and the lessons learnt about over-thinking and letting go of the crap, pluck up my courage and take those first steps out in to kinky land. I firmly believe that without those classes, I wouldn't be sitting here today writing this. So let's raise a glass to acting classes, and learning to let go of your inhibitions :-)
Today is Red Nose Day in the United Kingdom. Red Nose Day is a fundraising day for Comic Relief that happens every two years. If you are not from the UK, feel free to go and read more about Comic Relief here. There are always all sorts of suggestions about what events should take place, and there are various silly things going on in work places around the country. One of the tings that often happens is that people wear red noses. Now I don't like red noses, but last night's caning prompted me to think of other bits of me that could be red! It's a bit late for this year, but I think for the next Red Nose Day in two years time, I might have a sponsored Red Bottom day instead, and get sponsored per smack ;-) Maybe we should make it a national spanko thing. So instead of red noses, a whole group of us could walk round with red bottoms! Right, enough of the kinky musings. Time for work.
So I had a bit of a revelation tonight. My scary thick cane which I've never had used before because looks too scary is actually not as bad as I thought... and certainly not as bad as the thinner one. I'm not saying I'll ever be a massive fan, but the sensation was not what I expected. Certainly it seems that thuddy works better for me than thin and whippy. What doesn't work for me though, and I'm realising this more and more, is speed. I can't cope with spanking, or caning, too fast. My rather small little brain needs time to process the pain. I need my strokes spacing out. It's always good to learn these things though, I'm finding. The more idea I have about how to make the most of my play, and enjoy it more, the happier I will be!
I'm getting caned again tonight, it seems. Not because I've done anything wrong, just because! As I've probably mentioned before, I have a love/hate relationship with canes. Well, actually that's a bit of a lie, it's mostly a hate/hate relationship, but canes are part of my fantasies, and I love the feeling of having been caned. As usual, my stomach is flipping over at the thought of tonight. My friend, D, refuses to tell me how many strokes he's going to give me, and finds my constant temper tantrums trying to find out amusing. It will be interesting to see how I deal with tonight's caning. There have been times when I have been able to take quite a few strokes, and take them quite well. However, there's been other times when I have been completely pathetic! The signs bode well for tonight. I think I've got more of a handle nowadays on when my pain thresholds are higher and lower, and the caning is just for fun, so I hopefully won't be bringing any emotions to it which might impact my enjoyment. And I can't believe I just wrote the words "fun" and "enjoyment" in relation to a cane..! Doubtless I will be reporting back to you all at some point in the next few days ;-)
I quite enjoy my journey to work. It takes about 30 minutes. I live in a beautiful part of the world, and the route I take enables me to see some of it, rather than being stuck in a jam. One section has particular appeal for me though. Come with me on my journey, and you'll see why. I leave my house and head towards the motorway. Often the sky is populated with Red Kites (the birds, not actual red kites) wheeling and gliding overhead. They really are beautiful birds to watch in flight, seeing how they glide on the eddies of wind and thermals always fascinates me, and makes my heart soar just a little bit as well, corny though that is. I reach the motorway, and it's a good morning. The traffic is moving freely, and I get to open the car up for a couple of minutes and just put my foot down (only a little bit over the speed limit, I promise...!) I'm only on the motorway for about 10 minutes until I come off and take the back roads to the town where I work. Now this is the interesting bit. The back road is basically straight through a large area of woodland. Well, not straight through, as in over the trees and things, that would just be wrong. It's a beautiful drive on any morning, though sometimes a little scary in winter, and the roads are narrow and windy. Apart from the joy it brings to my heart to drive such a beautiful route every morning, there is another reason why I like this particular part of the route so much: the woodland is full of birch trees!! I seem to be developing this strange fascination with birching, and I really don't know why... it's not as if I like canes, so why on earth would a birch be any different? But somewhere, in the back of my sick little mind, the idea of being tied down and birched pushes all my kinky buttons. Which makes the drive to work through three miles of birch trees somewhat distracting. I often arrive with a big grin on my face though...!
As I wrote the other day, I'm definitely not adverse to a good school-girl fantasy. In fact to be honest, fantasising about myself as a naughty (or well behaved but unfairly punished!) school girl was probably one of the first things I did fantasise about until I decided that it involved school girls it must be wrong. It took me some time to accept that fantasising about spanking actual children would of course be wrong, fantasising about myself in a school girl role being spanked did not mean I was some sort of perverted child abuser... (I know, that's pretty obvious to most normal people, but remember it took me a good 20 years to accept my kink!)
I think this is why books about school always fascinated me, especially ones about boarding school. The whole dynamic of being in a boarding school intrigued me, and I enjoyed many stories for what they were (though there was always an undercurrent of hoping that *something* might happen, something being some sort of punishment for a naughty pupil.)
At work the other day, under the guise of doing some research (i.e. work avoidance), I came across The Times education blog, which has various posts about things like the worst and best teachers in film, the best school TV shows, and the 25 best boarding school books. The post brought back some great memories, not least the number one, the Chalet School books, and also Trebizon, A Little Princess (wow, I loved that book), the Enid Blyton series, Boy, and also quite a few that I've never read, which I should maybe investigate. Mostly these are the school boy type books, which never appealed as a kid, but probably should have done, as they might have actually had some kinky action in them. One that I really should attempt to read is Catcher in the Rye. However, I was put off this for life by being forced to read Die neuen Leiden des jungen W, an intensely tedious German play, for A-Level German, where the protagonist loved Catcher in the Rye. I figured if he liked it, I certainly wasn't going to. It's probably time to change that though, and I think I will add the Adele Geras books, and Engelby by Sebastian Faulks to that list. Got any other recommendations for me?
I seem to be dreaming an awful lot about school at the moment. As in my school, that I went to. And left, fourteen years ago. (Ouch, am I really *that* old...? It seems so). I generally don't seem to dream that I'm back there as a pupil, but rather back visiting for some reason. Now I will freely admit that the whole "adult schoolgirl" thing turns me on, but there's nothing remotely kinky about these dreams. In fact they are probably even less kinky than the possibilities that my somewhat old-fashioned and traditional school may have had seeped in its walls. In the last dream I spent a lot of time in the prefects common room chatting to people about a new school uniform. In the previous one I attended the leavers' service in the local church... and quite frankly that dream was about as boring as the leavers' service used to be in reality. So why all the very boring non-kinky school dreams? I blame Facebook to be honest. Getting back in touch with old school mates must be warping my mind. I really do wish that it would warp it in a kinky way though!
I have never yet met an English guy into spanking who does not obsess over canes. They all seem to have some sort of freaky love affair going on with the stupid things, and a day is not a successful one unless it involves a cane being applied to a bottom. What I don't understand though, is why? Of all the lovely implements to fixate on why canes?! Why not a flogger fixation? (Seriously, why not? I've got one, because they are yummy!) But no, for your average English spanko guy it's the cane that really floats his boat. I suppose it must be something to do with school. A lot of the spankers that I know are old enough to have still been in school when corporal punishment was allowed, and of course the cane was the implement to fear in most secondary schools in those days. So even if they weren't caned themselves, the damn thing probably sparked all their spanking fantasies. I suppose that mythology persists even for those who were at school after those days had gone. To be fair, canes always featured in my fantasies as well, probably for the same reason. Note the use of the past tense there. When I discovered the reality of the things, they quickly STOPPED featuring in my fantasies. These musings are prompted by the fact that I've been threatened with the appearance of a cane next week, and presumably it won't just be "appearing", it will be aimed at my poor innocent bum. Like I said, a day in the life of an English spanker is not complete unless they've caned someone. I need to move to a country with a better obsession. Anyone got any suggestions?!
Continuing the musical theme (sorry, I seem to be a little obsessed at the moment!), I'm going to see Avenue Q in London before it closes. So I bought the soundtrack and was listening to it in work on my ipod. Unfortunately, I had to stop when this song made me laugh so hard I nearly wet myself. "What are you listening to that's so funny?!" Um... The Internet is for porn....I particularly love it when Kate says "You're a pervert. Normal people don't sit at home and look at porn on the Internet." Pause. Trekkie Monster: "Ooo, you have no idea. Normal people, are you ready?" and the normal people all join in telling Kate that the Internet is, in fact, for porn. Don't watch if you are easily offended, but it you're easily offended, quite frankly, what are you doing here in the first place?! If you're not easily offended and live in the UK, go and get tickets before it closes at the end of March. If the soundtrack is anything to go by, it will be great.
I was listening to some songs from the musical The Boyfriend the other day. I've not seen it in years (um, probably at least fifteen years), so I can't quite remember the plot, but stuck in a traffic jam on the way to work I decided that whatever the finer details of the plot, it could only be improved by having some spanking in there...! After all, the show, if I recall correctly, involved several rather feisty young ladies running amok in the south of France trying to find themselves boyfriends: surely there's scope for spanking in there? I then continued on this train of thought - what other leading lady characters would benefit from a good spanking. The obvious one of course, is Kiss Me Kate, which I've never seen (shocking, I know!) but which does involve a spanking. Or how about Calam, in Calamity Jane? There's a lady who's always flying off the handle and jumping to the wrong conclusions, I'm sure Wild Bill Hickock would have liked to put her over his knee. 
Of course we have South Pacific - maybe a Nellie Forbush spanking scene would be an improvement? Or Millie Dillmount being spanked over her boss's knee in Thoroughly Modern Millie? At this point the jam freed up, and I continued on my way, but I'd love to hear some more suggestions!
Sometimes the best nights are the simplest ones - a glass of wine, some stir fry and the first series of "The Kids From Fame", the best television show in the world ever. I might be slightly biased about this, as from the age of six, when I became addicted to Fame, I wanted to go to the New York High School of Performing Arts. Desperately. Did it matter that you had to be 14 or something? Nope. Did it matter that I lived in Wales and it was, well, in New York? Again, no. That was the place for me. I knew all the words to songs I had on my tape, Fame, Starmaker, Life Is A Celebration, We've Got The Power To Be. I was obsessed.I know if I cast a critical eye over it nowadays, I would find it somewhat lacking, but my critical eye is remaining firmly shut, thank you very much, as my inner six year old is busy enjoying herself. It even included it's own wannabe domme, Miss Lydia Grant, complete with her cane banging on the floor, saying the immortal line: "You want fame?! Well fame costs! And right here's where you start paying. In sweat." I was talking to a friend from the show I did in November a few weeks ago, and mentioned it. She didn't know the TV programme and I had to explain about it it to her. That made me sad. Imagine not growing up spending your entire school life hoping that the canteen was 5 seconds from breaking into a song and dance routine. Poor thing! So for now I'm going to leave you all and go back to immersing myself in a cheesy 80's TV show. Yay!!
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