Friday, 26 February 2010

To Spank Or Not To Spank?

I've been totally disinterested in kink since I moved. Not scared of it, like last August, just utterly disinterested. Before, the thought of being spanked made me want to be sick, but this time, I just couldn't really care either way. This time, apart from twenty minutes of sheer, animal need in the middle of this week, there's been nary a glimmer of my kink, and I'm not sure that bothers me. In fact, the only reason I'm writing this post is that I want to canvas opinion.

The lack of interest leads me into several trains of thought, often contradictory. One is "Well, does it really matter if this is it, if I never feel kinky again?" One is "It's only been two weeks, get over yourself." Another, "Two weeks is a long time for you." Also, "I *do* care if my kink disappears... it's been part of who I am for two years and I like it."

One thing I do wonder, is that if I have unconsciously made the lack of interest worse. Have I, by keeping telling myself that I've lost all interest, actually reinforced that assumption more than would necessarily be true. Have I, in fact, made my disinterest worse?

So now I'm wondering what the cure is, or if I even should try and find one? Is it just worth getting on with it, getting a good spanking, get over the hump, as it were, and remind myself why I love being a kinky girl? Or is there a bigger risk of it just reinforcing my disinterest?
Alternatively, do I just leave well alone and let me head/desires sort themselves out in their own sweet time, however long that takes?

Thoughts please!

Tuesday, 16 February 2010

A Waste Of Potential?

I love my new house. I love everything about it, with the possible exception of the gas oven, and even that is growing on me now my mother has shown me how to light it. Yeah, I know... I am under no illusions as to just how pathetic I am.
So, my new house. I love the kitchen. I love the living room which is big enough to have my sofas, a proper dining table, and eventually a sideboard in it. I love the conservatory, I love the spare rooms, in spite of the d├ęcor, I love the bathroom, I adore my bedroom, with its new bed, wardrobes big enough to play hide and seek in and en suite. I especially love my new “library” filled with my books, and the shed with the left over wooden stepladder, about to be converted into library steps.
Ah, library steps, you say. I remember you talking about library steps, Eliane. Why yes, indeed you do
. Before I moved, I talked about library steps, and being spanked in every room in the house, and generally revelling in more space to be kinky.
Except that I have a little problem. It feels a bit wrong to be thinking about kinky stuff in my lovely new house. Like I might sully it with kinky thoughts and deeds or something... I'm still kinky, don't get me wrong, I'm not going through a vanilla patch or anything. I just feel bad thinking about kink in the house. I hope the feeling goes away soon, as it's going to be a hell of a waste of house potential if it doesn't!

Monday, 15 February 2010

"We're Downgrading, Actually"

I am installed in my new home, and my mobile broadband is working, so I thought I would take a little pause in my unpacking efforts to blog about my trip to London.

Of course, this was one of the most important weekends of my life, so I thought it would only be appropriate to shoehorn in a visit to the Covent Garden Branch of
Coco De Mer along with all the other things I was doing. As you do.

My partner in crime on this little jaunt was the inimitable Emma Jane, and we decided to visit Coco De Mer prior to afternoon tea at the Berkeley hotel. (Another experience which is thoroughly recommended!) Once we'd found the shop, we wandered around looking at the various things for sale, and trying fairly hard not to faint at the prices. The stuff is amazing, but the vast majority of it is not for young ladies who have just had a substantial increase in their mortgage repayments!

There were however, a couple of things which caught my eye, and made their way into my hands. Unfortunately, they are both wooden... I think I was suffering from "pretty disease" again. This is where I buy something (especially knickers and implements) because they are pretty.

I'm having trouble uploading the photos, but the links to the two paddles here. First, a beautiful spatula spanker, and second, the thing I had gone for in the first place, the utterly gorgeous rubberwood paddle. I actually picked up two of the paddle, one for me and one as a present, and Emma Jane had a spatula spanker as well. As we were walking to the till, one of the assistants came up to us and enquired whether we were experienced in spanking and flogging, as the implements we were holding were quite severe.

I blushed, stammered and decided that I'd quite like to sink into the nearest hole and hide there for a while. Emma Jane, on the other hand, with great presence of mind, replied.
"Yes, we are experienced. We're downgrading, actually, with these implements."

Of course, it remains to be seen whether they can actually be classed as "downgrading". I'm sure they could be used sensually and gently, but I'm equally sure that most tops of my acquaintance will not be able to resist using them rather more than "gently"... That being said, when I've had chance to test them out properly, I'll report back!

Friday, 12 February 2010

Little Hiatus

You'll have to forgive me if there aren't any posts for a few days. I'm going to be without the internet, for a very good reason: I'm moving house, to a bigger place. As I keep telling people "a grown up house".
With room for all my books (well, actually, let me wait till all the bookshelves are in before I make that massive assumption!)
Room to have people to stay "properly", rather than on a zed bed.
Room to have parties.
Room to have a dining table up all the time so I can have people round for dinner.
Room to hang my washing out in the garden.
Room to do all sorts of things I couldn't do here.

It's a little bit of a double edged sword, as this place, where I sit and type right now, was my first home as an adult. The place I bought when I was 23 and moved out of home. I've been here for getting on for ten years. My Dad came here, he knew this place, he helped me decorate, he did the DIY. He and Mum finished cooking dinner when I'd invited them round and got to drunk to finish the dinner. There will be no link to him in my new house, and I'm sure that at some point a little bit of sadness will creep in about that. At the moment though, the overwhelming emotions are those of panic, worry, and, more than anything else, excitement!

So if there are no posts for a couple weeks, you'll have to forgive me. After all, with all the kinky potential of the new place, I should have loads to post about in future :-D

Thursday, 11 February 2010


I've written before, several times about the fact that sometimes spanking just enables me to let go of things and release tension.

It's strange because sometimes I don't even realise just how much tension I'm holding inside myself until it does come out. It's scary to think that I carry that crap around inside me every day, and that it often gets very little chance for release. I'm often so focused on being strong, and coping with life, getting on with it, proving that I can deal with everything on my own and don't need anyone else, that I forget to acknowledge that this independence that I love and value does come at a cost sometimes. That cost being letting myself get more stressed than I maybe need to or should.

This is where spanking can be a bit of a sanity saver, because if I'm not even aware that I have so much stress inside me, it's hard for me to do anything about that! The sort of spanking where I do just let go, eventually, can be a very good thing, even if it doesn't feel like it at the time. Usually what makes me start crying is the pain, but that's not why I continue crying. I continue crying because I need to.

And this is where it can get really difficult for a top. I get that having a girl shed a few tears in front of you can be hot. Having a girl who's totally distraught is probably rather less hot. But as that girl who has been totally distraught like that, I know that sometimes I need the spanking to carry on. That I'm not done with letting go and letting out, and I need more. Maybe not harder, or even hard, just more. Of course, sometimes I don't need for it to carry on. Sometimes I need to just be left curled up in a ball to cry. Sometimes I need to be hugged through it. And as a top, how on earth are you supposed to know which time this is? Goodness knows, but I am grateful that I have people who are brave enough to push me enough that I can release some of that tension. Without that, I may well have ended up locked in a nice, white, padded room by now!

Tuesday, 9 February 2010

Aiding and Abetting

I have some advice to fellow bottoms out there. Never, ever, ever aid and abet a top in the crime of implement buying. If they buy the implements, you have no control over *what* they are buying. They'll buy an innordinate amount of hitty things, when quite frankly you'd rather they had bought chocolate. Even if you were going to buy something, you'd pick the thuddy strap, described as moderate. They'll pick the one strap in the world that is actually stingy rather than thuddy. Quite a talent, that. I love most straps, but that one... well, let's just say if it had an unfortunate encounter with a dustbin, I wouldn't be crying. (Um, unless I was the one who put it in the dustbin, in which case I suspect I might well be crying!)

So, as usual, learn from my mistakes. Help a top buy implements, and you deserve everything that you get. And everything that you get will probably hurt.

Saturday, 6 February 2010

Giving Up The Knickers

Knickers are so pretty. Frothy bits of lace, silky ones, ruffled ones, cheeky slogan ones, turquoise ones, pink ones, white, black, navy, green, red... I love them all. I love owning them, looking at them, wearing them, and I love buying them.
I can actually identify the start of my knicker buying obsession (and believe me, it is an obsession, or possibly an addiction). It was when I went to New York in October 2008. On that trip I was trying to cut down on my book buying habits, I have actually improved on that front by the way, but I seemed to somehow substitute books for knickers, and it got worse, and worse, and worse, and worse, and worse, and worse until today I realised that I had managed to buy yet another five pairs of knickers in two days.

Just looking back over my blog to pull out all my knicker buying posts has made me ashamed, and if I hadn't already realised that I have a problem, that would have done it.

The time has come for a change. I must have (and I've not counted) getting on for 200 pairs of knickers now. Silly and excessive, especially as at least 150 of those have been bought in the last 16 months. So I'm going to do something about it. I'm going to stop buying knickers. First of all until Easter, two months away. Call it an early Lent decision. In general, if I really set my mind to doing something, it will happen, so I've got a pretty good feeling that I can stick to this. However I want added incentives, and this is where my friends come in. Adele Haze has already offered to confiscate two pairs of knickers for every one that I buy, but I think I need something even more drastic than that, so I'm hereby giving every top that I play with permission to give me six strokes of the cane if they find out I've bought any knickers between now and Easter!
The thing is though, none of them are going to get the chance to do that, as I *will* be strong!

Thursday, 4 February 2010

Body Issues

I went to my spa the other day, and had a lovely time, apart from one little incident. I was saddened to see a young woman (very early twenties) with what pretty much anyone would consider to be a "nice" body. Slimmish, though not skinny (not that there's anything wrong with skinny), nice chest, nice bum, wearing shorts over her bikini. She was obviously not comfortable enough in her own skin to just wear bikini bottoms in that environment. And I really did think that was sad. What sort of society do we live in where young women, even those who by any "accepted" standard would be considered very attractive, are too insecure to "expose" their body in what is actually a surprisingly forgiving environment, with all shapes and sizes on display?
Well, I know the answer: a society that strives for perfection in everything to do with looks, for women, and increasingly for men. If you read too many papers and watch too much television, or rather pay too much attention to what they say, you will spend your life striving for a body ideal that is suitable for only a very few people.
Of course, I have no right to criticise. I have my own share of body issues, and to be frank, they are justified, as I'm fat, and need to be less fat. On the other hand, I long ago learnt not to aspire to "conventional" standards of beauty, as I'm never going to be slender - it's just not in my genes. Coming from hearty country stock I would always be a "big" girl even if I was not overweight.
Let's move on though, as this is not supposed to be my issues, but about the confidence I've gained over the past couple of years. The spanking scene, on the whole, seems fairly open and accepting of all sorts of body shapes. Or possibly I've just been very lucky with the group of people I've met. What their acceptance has given me is the ability to become more at ease with my unclothed, or partly clothed body.
When I started this, even baring my bum was a little traumatic. In front of one person. Then I started going to events like Lowewood where we all got undressed together, something which I'd only really done under a towel in other communal changing situations before. Also, I was being spanked in front of other people, having my knickers pulled down. And so it grew, via parties where I danced around in my underwear, to the extent that a couple of weeks ago I not only *totally* undressed in front of two tops, but then ran through the house completely naked to show the remaining girls the stripes on my bum and thighs. Of course, one of the reasons for that complete lack of inhibition was because I was on a high, but even so, that was a big first.

So yes, like most women, (and probably a lot of men) I have body issues. But, through the generally non-judgemental nature of our community, I have gained a huge amount of confidence over the past few months, and even learnt, that, god forbid, some people actually *like* bigger girls. Here's to many more years to come of running around naked!

Monday, 1 February 2010

Three Types Of Play

I've probably talked before about the different types of play I enjoy. There's three main ones. One is “just for fun”, when it's me, not in character, not being spanked for anything in particular, the second when it's still me, but the spanking is more serious, either because there is a genuine reason behind it, or just because I want a “serious” spanking. The last one is obviously role play. All the different types have their merits. Just for fun spankings are great, if very superficial. Being hoiked over someone's lap because you've just made a cheeky remark is (mostly) always fun. Letting a switchy friend loose on your bottom just for the sake of it can be very amusing.
Role play, likewise, is immense fun. Of course, half (if not more) of the joy of role play is the fun of being a different character, often in a different time, and getting so involved in your character that you react as them and not yourself, even if that character is influenced by aspects of your own personality.

I think the type of play I enjoy the most though, is the more serious stuff. Stuff like this, when I can just let go, submit. There's only a handful of people that I like to play that seriously with, or rather, I suppose, that I trust enough to play like that with. If I'm making myself vulnerable in that way, then I need to be doing so with people I trust not just to let me fall, but to catch me as well. You see, the thing is when I do play more intensely like this, the reason I love it is not because of the pain, or the amount of strokes I take or anything like that. It's because I can be me, and, once in a while, I can submit, and be submissive. (The two are not always the same).

This is something I've not yet been able to achieve in role play, and I'm not sure whether I ever will. My instinct is always to create characters who are, shall we say, somewhat spirited. Cheeky Jemima, opinionated Francesca, spoilt Lucinda. These are not women who would ever submit willingly to anything. In creating these characters I make it very difficult to reach any sort of submissive headspace in role. Maybe my next character needs to be the submissive type?

That's the main reason why I love playing intensely as myself. When the connection is between two people being themselves, it is, to my mind at any rate, more fulfilling than role play, though that is fulfilling in a different way. I was chatting to Abel a couple days after we had played the table scene. I was to curious as to whether he had been playing that scene as any sort of character. I knew that I had been me, but I didn't know if the same applied to him. His response was, and apologies if I'm misquoting slightly. “No, it was me abusing you.” Of course to anyone outside our world that statement would be terribly worrying, but of course he was “abusing” me in a way I wanted, and with my consent, and for me, that was a delicious response. Allowing myself to let go with that handful of people and experience that level of intensity, and of submissiveness, is one of the best things about This Thing We Do.