Sunday, 31 May 2009

No Longer A Club Virgin

Yesterday afternoon I was singing in front of a small group of people (about ten) in a singing workshop. I was so nervous my entire body was shaking gently from fear. Yesterday evening, driving to a fetish club, the shaking was even worse! I decided to take some decisive action and whacked my "Wicked" soundtrack into the CD player for a few runs through "Defying Gravity" on the basis that there's nothing better than belting out show tunes to calm the nerves.

I arrived at the venue, met my friends and I went inside to get changed, my exceptionally short tartan school skirt (that barely covers my bum) not really being the sort of thing I wanted to be driving in! And then, looking like a rather naughty school girl, I went into the room. People asked me later whether it was what I was expecting, and to be honest I'm not *what* I was expecting, but basically there was a bar area, and then a room full of equipment with chairs and tables round the side.

There was a very chilled atmosphere, very friendly and laid back, and the music was at such a level that it was easy to have a conversation without having to shout over it, which is very important when you get to my advanced age! There were actually two groups of friends that I knew there (I'm turning into quite the little spanking socialite it seems!), a smaller group where I knew everyone, and the larger group I'd come with where I only knew a couple of people. I flitted between the two groups, and as I was in "Shy Eliane" mode, I spent quite a lot of time with the larger group just sitting listening to other people's conversations. I also didn't know whether I wanted to play or not. Deep down I think I probably did, but I really didn't feel up to asking anyone.
Eventually, after a couple of hours, I worked up the courage to ask the friend who'd been threatening me since the beginning of the evening. This in itself was pretty hard for me. I'm terrible at actually *asking* for a spanking. Plucking up my courage I managed to mutter out my request, and was duly taken over to one of the spanking benches to be spanked and paddled. And thus went my spanking club virginity! It was strange, as I would have thought I would have been completely intimidated by it being in public, and having 100 odd people who could watch if they so chose, but in the end I really didn't think about that at all. People may have been watching, I'm not sure. I had my eyes closed a fair amount of the time which is one reason why I didn't know, but also I was focussed on the spanking I was receiving rather than what was going on around me.
After a hug, I went back to sit down with the other group of people there, and after a while I "plucked up the courage" to ask my friend's wife if he would spank me. Yeah. Go me. So courageous...!
This friend had actually spanked me before, but only in role play never just for the hell of it, so he was a little bit of an unknown quantity in that respect. As soon a bench became free, I ran over to grab it, and there followed some yummy hand spanking and strapping, and then the cane put in an appearance. I'm finding that canes are easier to take the more supported your body is, so if I'm just bending over with my hands on a chair, it's quite hard, I think because it's very easy to get up. Whereas stretched over a table, or better still kneeling on a spanking bench, you don't really have that choice. You can't leap up from a spanking bench even if you aren't tied down, so I just sort of get on with it, and make much less fuss than I would do if I was just bent over. Strange. So, I got six with the cane and then he said he was going to make it a dozen. Unfortunately at that point I said "Damn", and my claim that I was actually saying "Dam" because I had been thinking about the Hoover Dam was met with more than a little disbelief, so I got another 12, plus one for luck, making 19 in total. Apparently, quite a few people were watching me at this point, but I had blocked everything else out. Oh except the stray flogger from the next piece of equipment that hit my foot, twice! Ouch!

So there we go, my Spanking Club Virginity has been lost. And if you'd asked me a year ago if I could ever see myself on a spanking bench being caned in front of a club full of people, I would have laughed quite hard.

Saturday, 30 May 2009


No, not clubbing seals to death, and not dancing the night away variety... more spanking the night away. Or maybe not.
I'm going to my first ever Fetish Club night. I've never done it before, not sure it's going to be my thing, but then I wasn't sure that being spanked with someone else there would be my thing, and it's absolutely great, so I figure I'll try anything once. If I hate it, I can leave, and never need go again. The chances of me spending the evening sitting in the corner being all shy are quite high, but that's probably preferable to standing in the corner being in trouble!
I'm really not in possession of anything that could be remotely considered "Fetish wear" in the rubber/pvc/corset type of sense, so after some internal debate, I'm going to wear an all-too short tartan school skirt. And other stuff, obviously.
Needless to say, I will probably be writing some sort of drivel tomorrow about how it went, how scary it was, whether I did sit in the corner and hide all night,etc, so if you can be bothered, stay tuned!

Friday, 29 May 2009

Those Damn Birch Trees

, I have that terrible disease that most kinky bottoms have - a fascination with things that we *know* will hurt us, but want to try, nevertheless. It's an awful problem to have, to be honest with you, and it leads to us making silly mistakes. The sort of mistakes I have made include things like buying the hairbrush of doom. A very silly mistake indeed.

I think I may be about to make another silly mistake. I am growing increasingly fascinated with the idea of being birched, even though pretty much everyone has told me it is much worse than the cane, which I don't much like anyway. And yet, despite all these comments, and despite the fact that I *know* it will hurt like hell, and I probably will not enjoy it much in the moment, I'm still horribly fascinated by the thought. Fascinated to the extent that I've mentioned it to a trusted friend (of the top variety). His response was something along the lines of "I think we need to go for a walk in the woods."

Um, I'm going to regret this, aren't I?

Wednesday, 27 May 2009

Top Logic

There is a type of logic in our world that is particularly beloved of Tops. It's the sort of logic that is, to be frank, not that logical, but runs something along these lines:

"Because I said so"

"You're bound to do something at some point"

"I'm sure you're thinking something that you shouldn't be thinking"

"You suggested 10 strokes. Well, I was only going to give you 6, but as you guessed wrong you can have the whole 10."

"The cane broke on your bottom, therefore it is your fault. We will start the caning again."

"My hand hurts. That's your fault for misbehaving so much that I had to spank you."

Anyone got any more examples? I'm sure you've all heard (or used!) plenty of them.

Tuesday, 26 May 2009


Inspired by conversations over the weekend, I decided to go and take a free online Myers-Briggs profile test, as amazingly I've managed ten years in the workplace without ever having to do one.
And now I've done one, I think I might have to go and hide under the bed and cry for a while. It reckons I'm an ISFJ, 11% Introverted, 62% Sensing, 62% Feeling, 33% Judging, for those of you who understand these things.
Not really understanding this much, I went and read the description.

Of course some pieces of it I can't really relate to, but a lot of it rings horribly true:
"ISFJs are often unappreciated, at work, home, and play. Ironically, because they prove over and over that they can be relied on for their loyalty and unstinting, high-quality work, those around them often take them for granted--even take advantage of them. Admittedly, the problem is sometimes aggravated by the ISFJs themselves; for instance, they are notoriously bad at delegating ("If you want it done right, do it yourself"). And although they're hurt by being treated like doormats, they are often unwilling to toot their own horns about their accomplishments because they feel that although they deserve more credit than they're getting, it's somehow wrong to want any sort of reward for doing work (which is supposed to be a virtue in itself). (And as low-profile Is, their actions don't call attention to themselves as with charismatic Es.) "
Um, yup, hands up who has big problems with delegating, and even bigger problems with "boasting" about achievements. Guilty as charged.

"Like most Is, ISFJs have a few, close friends. They are extremely loyal to these, and are ready to provide emotional and practical support at a moment's notice. (However, like most Fs they hate confrontation; if you get into a fight, don't expect them to jump in after you. You can count on them, however, run and get the nearest authority figure.) Unlike with EPs, the older the friendship is, the more an ISFJ will value it. One ISFJ trait that is easily misunderstood by those who haven't known them long is that they are often unable to either hide or articulate any distress they may be feeling. For instance, an ISFJ child may be reproved for "sulking," the actual cause of which is a combination of physical illness plus misguided "good manners." An adult ISFJ may drive a (later ashamed) friend or SO into a fit of temper over the ISFJ's unexplained moodiness, only afterwards to explain about a death in the family they "didn't want to burden anyone with.""
Yup, me again. And I would imagine that it could be seen as a typical ISFJ behaviour that I very nearly took out any of the good bits in that previous sentence in case they were seen as boastful.

The only bit that really doesn't ring true is the bit about "Being SJs, they place a strong emphasis on conventional behavior; if any of their nearest and dearest depart from the straight-and-narrow, it causes the ISFJ major embarrassment"
Though I suppose that all depends whether writing a spanking blog is considered "departing from the straight and narrow"?

Monday, 25 May 2009

The Worst Punishment

I think I've discovered what my worst punishment is. Well, a slight lie, my second worst punishment. The first would be "no spanking, ever again", and in all fairness, as a threat that one works pretty damn well.
I experienced the second worst punishment this weekend though, and it rather surprised me just what it turned out to be.
As you may have noticed the other day, Eliane and EmmaJane were in rather a lot of trouble. They had been ordered to attend Saturday detention and be punished, in preference to being expelled for their (brilliant, if I may say so) masterminding of Muck Up Day.

So, come Saturday afternoon, two very sorry girls were waiting outside the study to be called inside. Once inside they stood in front of the master, who was holding fearsomely whippy looking cane being lectured about their disgraceful behaviour. Then the question was asked:
"Which of you will be caned first?"
Silence. I didn't want to speak up in case EmmaJane preferred to get it over and done with, but I also didn't want to force her to go first if she didn't want to. I was also in no particular hurry to make the acquaintance of the cane being flexed in front of me.
The silence seemed endless. After what felt like three hours but in reality was probably only thirty seconds, I volunteered to go first. EmmaJane was sent to stand facing the wall, I was told to raise my skirt, lower my knickers and bend over the desk.
Once I was bent over, I was asked how many strokes of the cane was the standard punishment for "Gross Misconduct". Which I should have read in the school rules, it seems. When I admitted I didn't know, EmmaJane was asked. She guessed twelve. We were informed that it was actually eight, but as neither of us knew the rules, we could take the twelve anyway...
I can't remember that much about my caning. I can remember counting on my fingers to focus on saying the count correctly, as I'm not actually that good at keeping count, especially if I'm being distracted (with lectures). I remember focussing on making sure I SAID the count, and gave my thanks for the stroke. I remember sucking in my breath after each stroke, and kicking up my legs, and trying so, so hard not to break position, but not quite managing it. I remember mentally just holding on for dear life, trying to get through it.
I think I might remember the sound of the cane just before it slashed into my buttocks, but that might have been later that I heard it. I only sort of remember the actual pain as it struck.
What I do remember though is being very conscious of EmmaJane being over the other side of the room, with her head to the wall, having to listen and knowing that her turn was next.
Eventually my twelve was over. I was chastened, but not crying. I was told to rearrange my clothing and to swap places with my co-conspirator. As we passed, we managed to briefly squeeze each others hands.
And now here comes the worst part of the punishment. I was standing away from the table, facing the wall, so I couldn't see anything. But boy, could I hear it. I had to stand there and listen as twelve times that horrible cane whistled through the air and impacted on EmmaJane's bum. Twelve times of sharing that pain with her, cringing as the cane hit home, of hearing her count, of wondering how she wasn't in tears yet. At one point I actually peeped round and tried to watch on the basis that it might be slightly less traumatic watching than it would be just having to listen. Unfortunately, I was spotted and threatened with more of the same if I didn't turn back to the wall.
I'm finding it hard to describe how intense it was listening to someone else be punished like that. It was far, far more upsetting than being punished myself. My own caning had left me chastened, as I said, but I was so very, very close to tears by the time this one was done. I actually had to stop myself at one point from running over and going "Stop hurting my friend!".
I think I can say that it's probably one of the most intense scenes I've ever done, which, given it only contained 24 strokes in total, is pretty impressive really. It still makes me shiver to think about it.
I think one of the reasons it was so intense was that there were only the two of us being punished. That dynamic between us became very intense. Even though we were separated by the width of a largish room, we were completely connected over that distance. I was certainly "with her" for every single stroke, and I'm sure she was for me too. Very special, very intense, and very much something I want to do again.
Once EmmaJane's punishment was over, we were called back to the centre of the room, lectured and dismissed. Outside the study door we came out of character and hugged a lot. Then we were joined by the mean man who inflicted such nastiness on us, and more cuddles helped us come down from the scene.
As I say, very intense, and even though listening to someone being punished in a scene like that is probably at least ten times worse than actually receiving it yourself, it's still something I'd like to experience again.

Sunday, 24 May 2009


Here's some advice. If someone is whacking your behind with a switch, but you can't feel it because you are wearing a two-layer cotton skirt, my advice to you would to be just say "Ow, ow, ow" anyway.
If you follow my lead and gloat about how you can't feel a thing, the person wielding the switch might just decide to aim for the nearest exposed piece of flesh. Which in this case was my *ankle*, and even though it was only one stroke, yup, it stung like anything.

So, dear readers, my advice to you is this: "pretend it's hurting, even when it isn't", or you too may find yourself getting an ankle switching!

Friday, 22 May 2009

Friday Evening Kinky Vignettes

In my singing lesson tonight:
Me: "Oh I'm such an idiot... it's not that hard to BREATHE...!!!"
Singing Teacher: "Will you stop beating yourself up for goodness sake?!"
Me: "Have you not realised that I LIKE beating myself up?"
Singing Teacher (with great glee): "Eliane goes to S&M clubs!"
On reflection, I should have retorted "Actually, no I don't, but I'm planning to soon."
But I just glared instead.

Then when I got home I turned on the TV and realised it was Eastenders. I was about to turn it right back off again, when one of the female characters came downstairs in a Saint Trinians style uniform and said to her boyfriend: "I thought you might like to do some marking, Sir...". I watched Eastenders for the longest I've ever watched it, just to see whether anything else transpired.
It didn't. There's five minutes of my life down the drain, but it was worth it just in case.

Thursday, 21 May 2009

Muck Up Day

The headmaster walked into school somewhat warily on what had colloquially become known as Muck Up Day. The day when the Upper Sixth left school for the last time to start their study leave had always been one of high spirits, but in more recent years, the spirits had been getting higher, and the pranks sillier. So it was with trepidation that he approached the gates, wondering what he would find within. As first, everything seemed normal, but as he turned into the cloister to head towards his office, he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of two large goal posts placed on the cloister lawn. Surrounding the goal posts were what looked like pitch lines, in white paint all over the cloister lawn/hockey pitch as it now was. He suppressed a chuckle as he carried on. While the culprits had rather defaced the beautiful lawn, the grass would grow and the paint could be mowed out. It could have been a lot worse.

He reached his office and sat for some time at his PC, catching up on email. The ringing of the 9 o'clock bell was swiftly followed by the ringing of his phone. On the other end was Mr Pugh, the head of games, who seemed irate. It appeared that the teacher had unlocked the gates to the swimming pool, to prepare it for the Fourth form swimming lesson later that day, only to be confronted by a bright purple expanse of water instead of a blue one. Someone had put potassium permanganate to good use, unfortunately at the expense of the swimming pool, which would now be out of use for several weeks while it was cleaned and repaired.
The Head sighed as he hung up the phone. The cloister lawn was one thing, this was quite another, and of a much more serious order of damage. He would call the caretaker and get him to provide the security camera footage of the last 24 hours to him, so he could study it tbat afternoon.

The day continued with no further interruptions, until, ten minutes before lunch, the fire alarm started ringing. As far as he knew, there was no alarm scheduled, and having confirmed this with his secretary, he made his way onto the sports field with everyone else. As he reached the field, he realised that everyone's attention was focussed on the gymnasium. Worried that there may be a fire, he turned to check, and saw what the real focus of attention was: a huge banner, unfurled from the roof, with the words "Upper Sixth 2009: Legends Forever" written on it.
So he would now also have to find who set off the fire alarm, and saw fit to climb on to the roof of a three story building to attach a banner to it. But that could wait for a few minutes: first, it was lunchtime.

Five minutes after returning to his office, his secretary called through to him. "Sir, I have the Head of Biology on the phone. He would like you to go to the main Science block straight away. There has been another incident."

What this time? Had the Upper Sixth tried to blow something up? Burn something down? He pushed open the door to the main Biology lab and a terrible smell hit him. There, standing in the middle of the lab was a sheep. With a sign round its neck reading "Dolly". Dolly had obviously been in the lab for at least an hour, and had apparently not been very happy with the idea, if the smell and chaos were anything to go by. This was the last straw...

Several hours later, he switched off the video player, and picked up a pen. The culprits had surprised him. One of them was easily identifiable, and it seemed like the other was her good friend. Both had always been a credit to the school - bright, intelligent, hardworking and above all well behaved. By rights, he should expel them, but this was the first time they had ever been in trouble at school. Instead, he pulled out a sheet of paper and began to compose a note:

Dear Mr Jenkins,

I'm sorry to inform you that it has come to light that the two students who masterminded the "Muck Up Day" vandalism are in your house. CCTV footage has been examined, and we have positively identified Eliane as one of the perpetrators. We believe that she was aided by A N Other, assumed to be Emma, but we have not been able to 100% confirm this via CCTV. Further questioning of both girls may be needed to ascertain her guilt.

As you are aware, the "pranks", among other things, included the swimming pool being turned purple (with potassium permanganate), the removal of the hockey goalposts to the cloister lawn and the painting of pitch lines on said lawn, the hanging of a banner from the Gym that was unveiled when an unscheduled fire alarm was set off and read "Upper Sixth 2009 Forever!", and, possibly most seriously, the placement of a sheep with a sign saying "Dolly" around its neck in the science laboratories. And of course, we all saw (and smelt) the consequences of a distressed sheep in an enclosed space. Not pleasant, as I'm sure you will agree.

Under normal circumstances, I would propose immediate expulsion for the culprits, meaning they would be unable to take their A-Level examinations, and thus forfeit their University places, but given that Eliane and Emma have had such exemplary academic and behavioural records up until this point, I am reluctant to take this step. Instead I am sending them to you to deal with as you see fit, if they so choose. If they refuse to accept a punishment from you, they will of course be expelled.

Please let me know the outcome of your meeting.


The Headmaster

Eliane and Emma have been ordered to attend Saturday detention by their housemaster. Do you think they might get more than they bargained for when they get there? I think they might. If they live to tell the tale, they might even share it with you ;-)

Wednesday, 20 May 2009

A Fairytale

Once upon a time, about four or five years ago, there was a girl (well, she was 27, but you know what I mean). She knew that she had certain desires and thoughts, but was too scared to do anything about them. Then one day she typed the word spanking into an Internet search page, and was amazed at all the results she got back. She browsed and eventually stumbled across a web site selling stories by authors who seemed to speak directly to her thoughts and desires. She read stories by these authors voraciously.
About three years later, after much reading online, she felt more ready to express these desires she had. She found a website called Informed Consent, and started lurking on there, reading people's posts, getting a sense of who was who, finding links to other sites and blogs. She was particularly intrigued by a group of people who seemed to be linked to her favourite two blogs. They obviously knew each other, played together and were good friends. Their kinks seemed to be similar to her own. They seemed like some sort of charmed circle to the girl. A group of untouchable people who led this amazing, charmed kinky life. She was fascinated by them, and, to be honest, a little jealous that they were living the life that she would dearly love to be living.

Eventually, she plucked up courage and started commenting on the blogs that she liked so much. She commented occasionally for a couple of months, and then one day, out of the blue, (and in fact, to prove this really is a fairy tale, on her birthday) one of the writers emailed her. Not long after they started an email conversation, the girl realised that the person writing to her was one of the authors of the stories she had loved so many years ago. She was bowled over. It was like being emailed by spanking royalty...!
In time, she met this person "in real life", and gradually got to know friends of theirs until eventually, nine months later, she realised that she had somehow become part of that "charmed circle", and all those people whose writing she had admired from afar, and whose opportunities to live their kinky lives she had been jealous of, were now well on the way to becoming loved and valued friends.
If someone had told the girl that a year ago, she never would have believed them. Isn't it funny how life works?
There is, of course, a conventional way to end a fairytale, but I prefer to end this one by saying:
Most definitely not "The End" ;-)

Monday, 18 May 2009

I think I have a problem

Um, I think I have a problem. I was just sorting through my underwear drawer, and decided to count up my knickers. I divided them into two piles, the "nice" ones, lacy, silky, cute, stripey, spotty, cheeky and all around fab, and then the boring ones. Black cotton, white cotton, thongs (because even though I hate them, once in a while a girl has an outfit she needs to wear a thong with). Then I counted the contents of the piles up. Nice knickers... 65! SIXTY FIVE!!!!
I could wear a different "nice" pair of knickers every day for over two months without having to wash any. That's insane.
Even more insane is that I have 33 pairs of boring ones. Which I barely ever wear. Why do I have so many?! I have no idea, but the fact is that I could go for over three months without doing the washing and still have a clean pair of knickers every day.
I think there might be something wrong with me.

The Subconcious

I had a somewhat violent dream last night, about guns and the mafia. I very rarely get violent or nasty dreams. In fact, even in this case I dreamt that I woke up and I was having the dream because I was taking drugs for swine flu..!
I use this as an illustration to show that my subconscious, or at least the piece of it that manifests itself in dreams, is generally quite a happy place to be. Oh, there have been times when this hasn't been the case. Times when the feelings of loss and longing have been so strong that I've woken with tears still wet on my face from crying in my sleep. But nowadays, I generally have weird dreams, but just that. Not disturbing or violent. This, of course, is a "good thing". It probably demonstrates that I'm fairly happy and well adjusted as a person.

That's all well and good, but it has, to my mind, one major downside. As I've whinged about plenty of times before, I don't have that many kinky dreams nowadays, and I think this is the reason. My nice, happy, and quite frankly BORING subconscious seems to feel that being spanked a couple of times a month, and having free access to kinky stuff on the internet is plenty for it to be getting on with and it doesn't need to go fantasising or dreaming about kink when I'm asleep. My actual conscious would like me to be spanked much more frequently, thank you very much, but my subconscious is quite happy with its lot and carries on being all boring and pink and fluffy and unfulfilling. It's a bit of a dilemma really, as the only way it seems it will deliver the goods in terms of kinky dreams is if I stop BEING kinky in real life, and I'm not having that!!

Saturday, 16 May 2009


I wait. Bent over, hands on the chair, legs "properly" spread as instructed.

"Properly" meaning that you can see, well, everything.

I can feel you behind me, your gaze upon me, drinking in every detail.

I'm embarrassed by how turned on I am. The anticipation, the position, your stare, they all combine to heighten my arousal, which must be obvious to you, standing there.

I don't dare move my feet, but I try and clench my legs, my cheeks, in such a way that I can maybe hide my modesty a little.

"Don't even think about it."

You are quick to spot my aim.

I desist. I stay here, unmoving, bent over. Waiting.

You swish the cane a couple of times. The noise alone makes me flinch, sending shivers of fear and arousal through my body.


And I wait for the first stroke, fear and longing coursing through me.

Waiting for the cane to bite.

My enemy.

My friend.

Wednesday, 13 May 2009

Was this wrong of me?

So, was it wrong of me to spend most of my meeting today trying to avoid putting my bendy figures into spanking positions instead of concentrating?
I suspect it was *more* wrong to steal said bendy figures and take them away to fulfil my day's desires and then take photos of them:

OTK Bendy Spanking

Corner time for naughty bendys

More spanking

Tuesday, 12 May 2009


I've never had much of a desire to switch. In fact, scrub that, I've never had ANY desire to switch. Me spanking someone else has never been part of my fantasies. As time goes on, though, I start to wonder what it would be like. It doesn't turn me on any more than it did before, and I'm not interested in it through any desire for control or power; for me spanking is all about giving up control and power.
I think the main reason I'm interested in switching is because I'm curious to know what it's like to spank someone, from a purely, well, scientific standpoint.

I want to know what it feels like to spank someone - how much force you need to use - with your hand, with implements... how do you cane? How do you use a tawse or a strap? I was never much one for physics/mechanics but I'm starting to think if I'd been taught it with reference to spanking, it might have made a lot more sense!

I think some of my curiosity comes from the fact that when you are being spanked, you don't really see the mechanics of it - you don't see how far back the hand or implement is being pulled, or how fast it falls, you don't see the impact it makes on your bum when it lands. I could remedy this lack of knowledge by filming myself or something but that still doesn't give you that FEEL for how the force and the impact are related.

I suspect I'm not making much sense, even to myself, and, needless to say, given my piss-poor aim, I'm not about to inflict my desire for scientific understanding on somebody else's rear end. A cushion will just have to do. Which is a shame, as it is not exactly responsive!

Sunday, 10 May 2009

A playroom you say?

I'm vaguely considering moving house, because I seemingly feel that I don't have enough stress in my life already... anyway, to this end I was browsing online with my mother looking at various properties. "Oh look", she exclaimed, "this one has a playroom".
"Um, a what?" I replied, wondering whether it was common to advertise such things, how well equipped it was, whether there were any photos of it, and why I had never considered putting "playroom" on my list of required attributes for any future house purchase.
"Yes", replied my darling mother, "but you don't want kids, so you could just use it as a dining room or something."
At that point, of course, I realised that the house had a playroom in the more traditional sense of the word: for small children to store their toys and play in. Shame really. The other sort sounds much more fun.

Saturday, 9 May 2009

Role Play

It's far too late to be starting to write this but I want to get things down on paper asap. I've just had the most fun day EVER doing my first ever role play. Seriously, I've never done role play before. Acting yes, but role play no.
I was very lucky to be invited to take part in a school day with some friends. I was Jemima, a young lady who had previously attended a very liberal school but who had been sent to away by her long suffering grandparents after being found cavorting in their greenhouse with a farm hand.

I really didn't know what to expect from the role play. Well, let me clarify. I did not know what to expect from me. Eliane had been a Stepford Child at school, she never received detention, was never in trouble and was a complete goody two shoes. On the other hand, Jemima would have been through an educational system that encouraged self-expression, creativity, and maybe had not been that rigorous academically. So at a stricter school she might have trouble comporting herself appropriately and adhering to stricter behavioural standards.

So, what was going to happen? Would I revert to type and not even breathe wrong, or what? Well, it turned out that when I put on my school uniform, Jemima completely took over. I don't think she made the best impression on the teachers when she first walked into assembly turning round and calling the girl behind her "bitch" for pulling her bunches. Not the best start.

I apparently found it very hard to behave well. I was constantly interrupting in class, I just didn't seem to be able to keep my mouth shut. Jemima behaved very much like she would have done at her previous educational establishment. Not exactly naughty, but questioning, querying, commenting and generally (and quite unintentionally) probably being a bit of a pain. That being said, I did only get dealt with twice in class. Once was for giving a sweet to the girl next to me who had just been caned (and we both got called to the front and caned. How mean!) The second was when I threw a sticky spider at the blackboard in PSE as the head was dealing with someone else. And it stuck!! Given just how bad my aim is, as amply demonstrated in Games later, I think I should have been praised for my good aim, rather than bent over at the front of the class and spanked and slippered.
I also got called to see my housemaster, and was lectured about the evils of going to see theatre productions about sadomasochistic practices, all the while being tawsed. It went something along the lines of "Sadomasochism is evil." WHACK. How either of us kept a straight face I will never know.
Unfortunately, by the end of the day, I had accumulated enough negative housepoints that I was actually "the worst pupil in the school", and in detention got eight HARD cane strokes to reinforce why I should try not to find myself in a similar position again. They were a beautiful set of stripes though. Jemima was thoroughly chastened, but Eliane was thrilled, (so much so that she got someone to take a photo!) I do dispute that I should have lost points for swearing in class, though. After all, I had just laddered my stockings on the desk. Surely that's extreme provocation?

The highlights of the day?
  • This character just sort of taking over an inhabiting my body. It's just a shame she can't keep her mouth shut in class though.
  • The fact that we none of us wore regulation knickers, and the intakes of breath when the head and my housemaster saw my Little Miss Chatterbox knickers, then later the "sexy moo" knickers, and finally the Little Miss Naughty ones. Also the fact that everyone else was making sure they were wearing equally "unregulation" knickers.
  • The lessons. They were really good fun, despite my naughtiness.
  • Actually forcing myself to play netball and not missing the ball ALL the time, just most.
  • Ordering pizzas for the teachers in the break and them having to answer the door and pay.
  • Wearing an exceptionally short skirt all day and eventually just getting over myself and quite enjoying wearing a slutty skirt!
  • The company. You know who are you, thank you so much for making it a wonderful day.

Thursday, 7 May 2009

San Francisco

Unfortunately I'm still way too busy to apply my brain to proper blogging, which is a shame. I'm sure there's some thoughts buried in there somewhere, but they won't be coming out any time soon, I wouldn't think.
I did get some good news today though: I'm hopefully going to San Francisco in June with work, and if I plan my time right I'm sure I can fit in a bit of kinky stuff while I'm there. SF must have some great kinky stores, right?! Feel free to tell me about any good ones!

Friday, 1 May 2009

Letting It Out

I don't think I had realised quite how much stress and tension I was building up inside me. On the outside I felt OK. Yes, I was busy, there were a lot of very important things going on both at work and at home, but I didn't feel that panicky, tense feeling that I often get when I'm stressed, so I sort of assumed I was OK. The thing is, when I was younger, when I first started work, I had quite physical ways of dealing with stress. If something was really getting to me at work, I would go off for a walk, kick tyres on cars, go have a damn good rant in the canteen, throw stones into the river near where we worked... I also knew that it was fairly obvious to people that I worked with that I got stressed about things, and I was told that it would hinder my career if I let that show.
So I started to internalise stress more and more, and apparently got bloody good at it, to the extent that I didn't even realise I was all that stressed until last night.
Halfway through a spanking, a normal "fun" spanking, no scolding (apart from "stop moving" lol), no paying for misdeeds, a dam that I did not even realise was there, broke. When it broke a flood of tears came pouring out and would not stop. I probably cried for a good fifteen minutes (as he continued to spank ;-) ) and then later on when he was caning me I started crying again, probably for another fifteen minutes. To be honest, I'm not even sure I'm done now, the morning after. I think there might still be some tears left in there to cry. The really strange thing is, I'm not crying about anything in particular, which is not like me. It's just this massive release of tension. It's really quite scary that there was that much "emotion" sitting there inside me undealt with, and unacknowledged. I'm very grateful that I did actually have the sort of spanking last night that helped me release some of that, because goodness knows *when* it would have come out otherwise.
Probably at some highly inappropriate and career-limiting moment!