to everyone at Christmas time and into 2010 - because sometimes we all need it. For those who are unsure of where to acquire a little bit of fabulous may I recommend the following:
- Hanging out with the people you most enjoy spending time with and care about. Having friends you love is the height of fabulousness and I'm lucky to be blessed with some wonderful people who I adore - and are the centre piece in my happiness - those reading I love you all and hope to spend more time with you in 2010 being FABULOUS - because you all are, and when I'm with you I am too :)
- Ridiculously decadent chocolates, now Hotel Chocolat do mini packs you can have your little bit of fabulous for the princely sum of £2.50...
- Gorgeous implements that are as beautiful to look at as they are painful. Jack's floggers hand-turned wooden handles and Quality Control's bright jewel coloured cane handles spring to mind...
- Deliciously decadent moisturiser and bubble bath that make you smell like a rose garden or vanilla cupcake (depending upon your preference)...not to mention give you beautifully soft and spankable skin.
- Silk or satin pyjamas - be you a proper long pyjama, cami set or camisole fan these are a must for a 'good girl' bedtime spanking. The only problem can be that your boy interest may not want to pull them down! With the La Senza sale already online there is really no excuse :)
- Nice red wine (Sainsburys are doing a yummy St Emillon at half-price right now) and steak.
- Stunning and fun dressing up outfits - corsets, ballgowns, regency dresses - it is fun to feel like a princess!
- Gorgeous cupcakes. One of my flatmates has bought me an entire book of cupcake recipes and I'm planning to make spanking related cakes when I get back to London. Probably with fluffy, glittery, beautiful icing. And rude slogans/pictures!
- This one is for Jessica but wonderful cheese. The above red wine comment applies once again.
- Fabulous underwear (this should probably be for Eliane but really applies to girls with a tendency to misbehave everywhere. It can be ridiculously expensive frills from an upmarket boutique or just a cute new pair of polka dotted lacy knickers for 98p from Primark but sexy knickers = a little bit of fabulous.
- Jeans that make you feel hot. The sort that people say make you look thinner. Ideally they should not constantly fall half-way down but some men may argue that makes them more fabulous.
- For the school players amongst us pretty hair accessories and pencils with fluffy bits or lights. School role play is really the perfect excuse to let out your inner little girl and purchase the crazy stationery and hair bows that we never had as children.
- Pretty ropework with someone who knows what they're doing for the spacey fabulousness.
- Roleplay that blows your mind - here's to being a reformatory girl, orphan, captive, school girl, regency lady, medieval wench more in 2010. Because it's fun and sometimes being someone other than yourself is fabulous (not to mention sexy).
- Lollypops - so right but so wrong and soooo yummy!
- Fabulous make-up in pretty colours with fantastic packaging that makes you feel like yourself only infinitely more glamourous.
- Men in black tie or period costume because men in sexy outfits = quite big bits of fabulousness!
- Glorious cocktails, decadent picnics, intimate dinners and plenty of fizzy pink wine. As sharing drinks and food with friends always makes you feel wonderful.
- Mornings where you can just lie in bed, cuddle your duvet and relax because those rare moments of spoiling yourself are fabulous (and pretty important in maintaining your sanity and thus fabulousness!)
Enough rambling for me but wishing you all a FABULOUS Christmas xox
Thursday, 24 December 2009
Saturday, 19 December 2009
Catharsis
We all go to some dark places, places that on one level we seek to avoid but on another are compelled to explore. Places that take you beyond the 'nice' side of the scene, beyond the characters we hide behind and onto something deeper. Sometimes characters can guide the way but it's somewhere you have to allow your real self to go, something you have to admit is what you need and allow yourself to yield to.
Sometimes we all need to break a little bit, to go past the banter and joking and on to shakier ground. We have to let the thing we do pierce the surface into who we really are, what we want but most of all what we fear. It can be a tone of voice that takes us from lighter things into what lies beneath, it can be a planned punishment or sometimes it can be entirely unintentional and happen when playing just strikes a chord.
It's cathartic crying, giving in and quietly atoning. An interesting facet of many submissives is that we're closet perfectionists and want everything to be just so. It's not enough to score nine shots in life out of ten, we want the full set. It's not enough to be good at our jobs, have friends we adore, do some good in the world and to be healthy - we want to be the best we can and to rest assured that we've left no stone unturned in the pursuit of opportunity. The problem is often you can't live up to your demands upon yourself and hate yourself for not quite making the grade. That's when you need to break a little bit because it's cathartic, to cry about the open door left unexplored and to tell yourself that it's ok not to be perfect. Just sometimes you need that sort of catharsis and chance to let it all go. Sometimes.
Sometimes we all need to break a little bit, to go past the banter and joking and on to shakier ground. We have to let the thing we do pierce the surface into who we really are, what we want but most of all what we fear. It can be a tone of voice that takes us from lighter things into what lies beneath, it can be a planned punishment or sometimes it can be entirely unintentional and happen when playing just strikes a chord.
It's cathartic crying, giving in and quietly atoning. An interesting facet of many submissives is that we're closet perfectionists and want everything to be just so. It's not enough to score nine shots in life out of ten, we want the full set. It's not enough to be good at our jobs, have friends we adore, do some good in the world and to be healthy - we want to be the best we can and to rest assured that we've left no stone unturned in the pursuit of opportunity. The problem is often you can't live up to your demands upon yourself and hate yourself for not quite making the grade. That's when you need to break a little bit because it's cathartic, to cry about the open door left unexplored and to tell yourself that it's ok not to be perfect. Just sometimes you need that sort of catharsis and chance to let it all go. Sometimes.
Thursday, 17 December 2009
All I want for Christmas...
Inspired by Jessica's post I've been having a think about what I want for Christmas. Ideally all metaphorically wrapped up in pretty paper with shiny ribbons. I have after all, mostly been a very good girl and paid the price when I'm not. Obviously I would have asked for World Peace but my friend LJ got there first so here are a few other ideas...
1. For there to be enough snow overnight to make tomorrow a snow day! It's settled a bit Santa but we're not quite there and I'd really like the day off work.
2. A special porting device so I can just pop 6 hours down the road to see the boy interest or he can come and see me. Yes I know it's only until the summer Santa but just think how much better a girl I'd be if he was able to deal with misbehaviour more frequently. There only so much you can fit into a weekend after all...
3. A proper heart in mouth scary institutional scene. With nowhere to run away too. And to be in the right headspace for it. And lots of cuddles afterwards (demanding...me...never).
4. Lots of gorgeous underwear - there are some cute silky ones at What Katie Did I'm particularly coveting Santa but so many more. A fabulous dresser and a big enough bedroom would also be very helpful.
5. To get over my recent under the weatherness. I'm sick of being banned from strenuous exercise and generally feeling tired and run down. I mean there are fit army men waiting to shout at me and make me run up hills - this is very inconvenient! This would probably also help me to loose the post birthday/Christmas cocktail belly!
6. More kinky clubbing and socialising. I love getting all dressed up and going out. I love it even more when toppy sorts abuse me and show me off.
7. Needleplay - I really want to try this, just a few ideally with a pretty design. It's just I'm needle phobic so I think it would either be a huge rush or a disaster but I'll risk it for the huge rush.
8. To go properly travelling again - backpacking somewhere exciting, staying in dodgy hostels and meeting loads of randoms. Having a loose idea of where I'm going but no set itinerary. Sleeping in a hammock. Holidays and work trips just don't cut it - I wanna be footloose again.
9. People to want to play with me. I hate pushing myself forward but it's annoying when you get left out because other people are more willing to fling themselves forward.
10. A really nice bubble bath with nice smelling things and preferably a sore bottom to soak.
11. To do a scene in a castle. Preferably with thick oak beams, stone walls and the wind wailing outside. And the boy interest looking sexy in his breeches.
12. A nice yummy sensual flogging that hurts just the right amount and leaves me aching for more.
13. More bedtime spankings because pyjamas and spankings are just the best combination ever. Plus there's that nice soporific glow. Yummy.
14. More fabulous headspacey events and play scenarios that just work and make me believe it. Preferably with some of my favourite people.
15. More space - I currently live in a really small room and it would be fab to have more space to play and entertain friends. I like having dinner parties and would like to organise more play events but just don't have space. In the space I'd also quite like my own school desk...
I promise to be very good Santa and help old ladies cross the road and not drop litter.
Hope you get lots of mince pies and carrots for Rudolph on Christmas Eve,
Rebecca xox
1. For there to be enough snow overnight to make tomorrow a snow day! It's settled a bit Santa but we're not quite there and I'd really like the day off work.
2. A special porting device so I can just pop 6 hours down the road to see the boy interest or he can come and see me. Yes I know it's only until the summer Santa but just think how much better a girl I'd be if he was able to deal with misbehaviour more frequently. There only so much you can fit into a weekend after all...
3. A proper heart in mouth scary institutional scene. With nowhere to run away too. And to be in the right headspace for it. And lots of cuddles afterwards (demanding...me...never).
4. Lots of gorgeous underwear - there are some cute silky ones at What Katie Did I'm particularly coveting Santa but so many more. A fabulous dresser and a big enough bedroom would also be very helpful.
5. To get over my recent under the weatherness. I'm sick of being banned from strenuous exercise and generally feeling tired and run down. I mean there are fit army men waiting to shout at me and make me run up hills - this is very inconvenient! This would probably also help me to loose the post birthday/Christmas cocktail belly!
6. More kinky clubbing and socialising. I love getting all dressed up and going out. I love it even more when toppy sorts abuse me and show me off.
7. Needleplay - I really want to try this, just a few ideally with a pretty design. It's just I'm needle phobic so I think it would either be a huge rush or a disaster but I'll risk it for the huge rush.
8. To go properly travelling again - backpacking somewhere exciting, staying in dodgy hostels and meeting loads of randoms. Having a loose idea of where I'm going but no set itinerary. Sleeping in a hammock. Holidays and work trips just don't cut it - I wanna be footloose again.
9. People to want to play with me. I hate pushing myself forward but it's annoying when you get left out because other people are more willing to fling themselves forward.
10. A really nice bubble bath with nice smelling things and preferably a sore bottom to soak.
11. To do a scene in a castle. Preferably with thick oak beams, stone walls and the wind wailing outside. And the boy interest looking sexy in his breeches.
12. A nice yummy sensual flogging that hurts just the right amount and leaves me aching for more.
13. More bedtime spankings because pyjamas and spankings are just the best combination ever. Plus there's that nice soporific glow. Yummy.
14. More fabulous headspacey events and play scenarios that just work and make me believe it. Preferably with some of my favourite people.
15. More space - I currently live in a really small room and it would be fab to have more space to play and entertain friends. I like having dinner parties and would like to organise more play events but just don't have space. In the space I'd also quite like my own school desk...
I promise to be very good Santa and help old ladies cross the road and not drop litter.
Hope you get lots of mince pies and carrots for Rudolph on Christmas Eve,
Rebecca xox
Sunday, 13 December 2009
Rude 12 Days of Christmas
I have just come back from the Christmas party for a charity show I play in the band for each year. A rude version of the 'Twelve Days of Christmas' is traditional with the group dividing into 6 groups and taking two days of Christmas each. Our group came up with 'Two pierced nipples' and 'Ten prince alberts' but classics included 'A blow job down an alley' and 'Eight anal beads'...All rather shocking in our local pub who tolerate us because for four glorious months we're regulars after every rehearsal...and we can certainly drink! Am now thinking that a kinky version should be invented forthwith...
On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me..a tawsing with a Lochgelly?
Anyone care to add to it?
On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me..a tawsing with a Lochgelly?
Anyone care to add to it?
Thursday, 10 December 2009
Graham's meme
Hello lovely people, I'm afraid I've been somewhat stuck in a blogging black hole and so apologies for the lack of posts recently. My stress levels with real-life stuff are approaching stratospheric, I've been sickly and busy and think I'm probably suffering from something akin to burn-out. This is a bit of a shame as I have a lot of half-written blog posts, not to mention the rest of my house party diaries (as thus far I'm half-way through Friday evening). So at some point when I've had a chance to recharge my batteries a little there will be lots of lovely posts...maybe even daily...maybe!
In the meantime I am feeling rather inspired by the lovely Graham's meme and so thought I'd answer that...
1. Tell us your Kinsey rating! (That is, where you fall, approximately, on the spectrum of sexuality, with zero being “only attracted to members of the opposite sex” and six being “only attracted to members of the same sex.” Follow the link for the full breakdown.)
In the meantime I am feeling rather inspired by the lovely Graham's meme and so thought I'd answer that...
1. Tell us your Kinsey rating! (That is, where you fall, approximately, on the spectrum of sexuality, with zero being “only attracted to members of the opposite sex” and six being “only attracted to members of the same sex.” Follow the link for the full breakdown.)
I think I fall somewhere between a 1 and a 2, I'm mostly heterosexual and can't really imagine a relationship with a girl but I do fancy them. Girls are soft and pretty and have nice hair and curvy bits and that's very sexy. Girls make me go all strokey and cuddly and it's somehow more platonic but also quite naughty. Most of the time I'd go for men though - cocks are fun... and muscles, strength and just not being quite so soft - men are dangerous. Please don't flame me about girls having muscles - I used to leg-press over 200kgs when I rowed - I know girls have muscles too - it's just sort of different!
2. Spanking / BDSM “type” that suits you best (switch, top, masochist, grand-master-wizard, etc.):
Much as I'd like to claim to be a grandmaster wizard it's simply not true. I'm not very good at picking boxes though. To special people (the boy interest and a couple of others) I'm submissive but I'm certainly not for things like club play or group scenes - I guess then I'm a bottom. I'm not a pure masochist - all pain doesn't excite but I am masochistic (and still think a life long interest in martial arts and other tough sports was probably latent masochism coming out). However I'm also a switch - mostly when I'm feeling capricious in a fun way but I do have a thing for big eyed cute things that make me want to hit them...yum.
3. Favorite blog / site of the moment (kinky/spanking-themed):
I shall have to say Jessica as she writes hot and interesting things pretty much every day (more days than I have time to read right now :( )
4. Favorite non-kinky blog / site of the moment:
Erm I don't really read non-kinky blogs (I barely have time to read the kinky ones!) so probably Facebook as it keeps me in touch with all of my lovely friends. Or the Christmas shop section of websites like Debenhams, La Senza et al...Or maybe the BBC recipes site as I'm busy planning a dinner party...
5. Latest spanking fantasy floating in your head:
It's an interesting one. I think I have two definite modes that I go into when playing and which of these feels more comfortable influences that fantasies I have at any given time. These are 'good girl mode' which is when I'm feeling quite submissive, want to please people, don't necessarily want lots of pain unless it's to please them (so won't go out of my way to make trouble) and am generally feeling quite subby. This only comes out with people that I'm very comfortable as a lot of the banter and things are stripped away and so I have to be quite relaxed.
Then I have 'bad girl' mode where I tend to enjoy a lot more banter and battles and the emphasis of play tends to be towards punishment rather than being particularly submissive. This comes to play in group scenes that aren't generally about being particularly submissive but more about getting away with it or giving the Dom merry hell. I'm more masochistic when I'm feeling like this and a lot of the fun comes from the 'thrill of the fight' so to speak so a lot of my school, reformatory and more institutional fantasies fall into this headspace. This is also the headspace I am generally in if I'm playing with people I don't know well in clubs, the exception being when doing non-impact play like ropework or sensation play that tends to push me straight into 'good girl mode'.
So, after a long diversion my fantasies right now are more in good girl mode. I want less dungeons and resistance and more sitting at people's feet and having my hair stroked. Or being punished for my own good. I have a bit of a princess fantasy going of a princess being promised to a young prince and resisting his advances leading to interesting scenes in her sumptuous bed-chamber. He wants her to like him and respect him so won't just punish her until he breaks because he wants her to want him too. That sort of thing. All I need now is a castle...yum
6. Blogger you’d like to spank / be spanked by:
Lol I am not very good at this as there are not many dominant men's blogs that I read and know in person! So Jessica (if she's feeling toppy - otherwise she is the best fun to misbehave alongside) or Abel are probably my top candidates :)
7. Age when you lost your (consensual, adult) spanking virginity — if this has yet to happen, give us a prediction or goal!
Unless you count being regularly whacked with big sticks in martial arts classes (which you probably shouldn't!) I was 22 and it was with my boyfriend in my final year of uni. I uttered the immortal phrase "but you can't spank me, I'm the boat club captain!" This was very funny at the time. I came onto the wider scene at 23 and have been causing trouble ever since...
8. Favorite literary reference (excluding spanking stories!):
I'm not sure if this counts as a literary reference but it is probably my favourite quote:
"Reach high, for stars lie hidden in your soul. Dream deep, for every dream precedes the goal." Ralph Vaull Starr9. Strangest limit:
Styrofoam - it makes me feel really, really ill bizarrely.
10. Some Random Vanilla Trivia, in the grand tradition of memehood… Like, “what are you listening to right now,” or “what’s your favorite fruit,” or anything similarly banal.
The Legally Blonde Soundtrack, financial reports, raspberries :)
Saturday, 28 November 2009
Arrivals
From the Diary of Dorothea Latimer
Friday 20th November, 1809
Under Mrs Derby's watchful eye I assisted in the packing of our carriage and the accompanying wagons in the drizzling rain. The aim was to allow me the opportunity to practice some of what I had learned of household management, which will be essential if I am fortunate enough to make a good match. Despite having been out for several months now the thought still seems daunting, it is one thing to practice preparing place laying and menus with ones governess, it is quite another to contemplate hostessing my own events. Indeed, I have no idea how Mrs Derby manages to pull things together so seamlessly. The reality is should I make a good match this season my husband would expect me hostess at least small events by this time next year, I really must improve my flower arrangements if that's to be the case. Perhaps I can ask Lady Cavendish to join me for tea and teach me a few tricks as her arrangements bloomed most beautifully.
The journey was long in the inclement weather, though time passed quickly as Mrs Derby quizzed me upon the precedence and reminded Lord Fawcett of the foibles of his various guests. I was also allowed to read her copy of the Daily Sketch, which was hot off the press and contained some most interesting gossip pertaining to several of the other guests. I stowed various snippets away in my head, hoping they would be useful conversation points later in the evening.
The staff at Fawcett Hall were flawless and there was even a charming maid named Kitty who was assigned to assist my roommates and I with unpacking our trunks and dresses. I was to share a room with Lady Francesca, a sweet girl who I had met at a previous dinner hosted by Lord Fawcett and Lady Cecily, who was new to my acquaintance if somewhat preceded by her reputation as a reformatory girl in the Sketch!
We chatted about the coming weekend as we bathed and prepared for the drinks reception. I had a new dress in pale blue silk and a blue feather and amethyst tiara borrowed from Mrs Derby for my hair. Lady Francesca was resplendent in purple velvet and Lady Cecily in forest green. Another friend, Lady Grace joined us and the four of us descended the stairs together. The champagne was flowing and the gentlemen looked most dashing in their breeches and waistcoats. I congratulated Sir Abel on his appointment as Chief Punishment Officer and held back my giggles as Lady Francesca proclaimed her views that corporal punishment was not suitable for young ladies. Apparently she and Lady Grace had succeeded in talking their governess around to this viewpoint, I have no idea how. I fear Miss Anstruthers would have combusted on the spot had I suggested such a thing, and besides regular discipline is efficacious for young ladies and assists in avoiding serious mishaps that could lead to sterner measures.
My dining companion for the evening was a Mr Random, who had recently won a duel fought in the nude against Sir Mulberry Hawke. I was a little perturbed by his suggestion that in order to have a political discussion one must be nude and by some of his other references but attempted to steer him to less risque topics. The food was divine, especially the beautifully peeled grapes that made the stuffed quail. If Father's chef was as talented as Lord Fawcett I'm sure I would be as big as a house.
After dinner the ladies retired and the gentlemen prepared for a meeting of the notorious Hellfire Club. Being an acquaintance of Lord Fawcett I had previous been initiated into the order so had to offer a tribute for the gentlemen to bid for. Mindful that it would not be appropriate for me to make too much of a public display I offered half an hour private play as a prize with the offer to take a spanking from each of the gentlemen as a tit bit to whet their appetites. Standing before the masked Brothers I felt exceptionally nervous, a feeling which did not dissipate as my tribute was announced and each brother in turn placed me over his lap and spanked my bottom. Indeed, I don't know which set of cheeks were blushing more! The start of the bidding sent butterflies to my stomach, as did the deadlock between two brothers both offering 38 guineas before one offered 39 and the other 40, the bidding limit. Brother Edward had won and later I was to be his prize...
Friday 20th November, 1809
Under Mrs Derby's watchful eye I assisted in the packing of our carriage and the accompanying wagons in the drizzling rain. The aim was to allow me the opportunity to practice some of what I had learned of household management, which will be essential if I am fortunate enough to make a good match. Despite having been out for several months now the thought still seems daunting, it is one thing to practice preparing place laying and menus with ones governess, it is quite another to contemplate hostessing my own events. Indeed, I have no idea how Mrs Derby manages to pull things together so seamlessly. The reality is should I make a good match this season my husband would expect me hostess at least small events by this time next year, I really must improve my flower arrangements if that's to be the case. Perhaps I can ask Lady Cavendish to join me for tea and teach me a few tricks as her arrangements bloomed most beautifully.
The journey was long in the inclement weather, though time passed quickly as Mrs Derby quizzed me upon the precedence and reminded Lord Fawcett of the foibles of his various guests. I was also allowed to read her copy of the Daily Sketch, which was hot off the press and contained some most interesting gossip pertaining to several of the other guests. I stowed various snippets away in my head, hoping they would be useful conversation points later in the evening.
The staff at Fawcett Hall were flawless and there was even a charming maid named Kitty who was assigned to assist my roommates and I with unpacking our trunks and dresses. I was to share a room with Lady Francesca, a sweet girl who I had met at a previous dinner hosted by Lord Fawcett and Lady Cecily, who was new to my acquaintance if somewhat preceded by her reputation as a reformatory girl in the Sketch!
We chatted about the coming weekend as we bathed and prepared for the drinks reception. I had a new dress in pale blue silk and a blue feather and amethyst tiara borrowed from Mrs Derby for my hair. Lady Francesca was resplendent in purple velvet and Lady Cecily in forest green. Another friend, Lady Grace joined us and the four of us descended the stairs together. The champagne was flowing and the gentlemen looked most dashing in their breeches and waistcoats. I congratulated Sir Abel on his appointment as Chief Punishment Officer and held back my giggles as Lady Francesca proclaimed her views that corporal punishment was not suitable for young ladies. Apparently she and Lady Grace had succeeded in talking their governess around to this viewpoint, I have no idea how. I fear Miss Anstruthers would have combusted on the spot had I suggested such a thing, and besides regular discipline is efficacious for young ladies and assists in avoiding serious mishaps that could lead to sterner measures.
My dining companion for the evening was a Mr Random, who had recently won a duel fought in the nude against Sir Mulberry Hawke. I was a little perturbed by his suggestion that in order to have a political discussion one must be nude and by some of his other references but attempted to steer him to less risque topics. The food was divine, especially the beautifully peeled grapes that made the stuffed quail. If Father's chef was as talented as Lord Fawcett I'm sure I would be as big as a house.
After dinner the ladies retired and the gentlemen prepared for a meeting of the notorious Hellfire Club. Being an acquaintance of Lord Fawcett I had previous been initiated into the order so had to offer a tribute for the gentlemen to bid for. Mindful that it would not be appropriate for me to make too much of a public display I offered half an hour private play as a prize with the offer to take a spanking from each of the gentlemen as a tit bit to whet their appetites. Standing before the masked Brothers I felt exceptionally nervous, a feeling which did not dissipate as my tribute was announced and each brother in turn placed me over his lap and spanked my bottom. Indeed, I don't know which set of cheeks were blushing more! The start of the bidding sent butterflies to my stomach, as did the deadlock between two brothers both offering 38 guineas before one offered 39 and the other 40, the bidding limit. Brother Edward had won and later I was to be his prize...
Saturday, 7 November 2009
Wanted...one flatmate
For the best girly houseshare in town. We are sadly losing a flatmate, which means we're on the hunt. It shouldn't be a problem - we're advertising on kinky sites and have already had lots of interest. Thing is we have a fairly clear idea of what we want - a girl, similar age to us, kinky with a love of ice cream, dressing up and debauchery. We have 2 months to find someone because getting the perfect fit is important - we all get along and want to keep it that way.
What I'm finding very funny is the amount of outraged memos I'm getting in result of our advert. From men telling me we're being sexist and they'd fit right in (and move out after 2 weeks if they didn't?! Because that wouldn't screw up the contract at all...), from TVs insisting that we're discriminating against non-natal females and all sorts of people.
I hate to say it but it's our flat and it's our choice who we want to live with. After all we couldn't loll around in our knickers if we lived with a boy...and they might object to some of our girlier past times. I am just finding it very odd that people think they have the right to comment on the type of flatmate we want...it's a funny old world!
What I'm finding very funny is the amount of outraged memos I'm getting in result of our advert. From men telling me we're being sexist and they'd fit right in (and move out after 2 weeks if they didn't?! Because that wouldn't screw up the contract at all...), from TVs insisting that we're discriminating against non-natal females and all sorts of people.
I hate to say it but it's our flat and it's our choice who we want to live with. After all we couldn't loll around in our knickers if we lived with a boy...and they might object to some of our girlier past times. I am just finding it very odd that people think they have the right to comment on the type of flatmate we want...it's a funny old world!
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
Dark and fluffy
Being away from home is having a strange effect on my kinkometre. I'm swinging between nice fluffyness and daydreaming about nice bedtime spankings and pretty new knickers and general 'good girl' play...and really dark fantasies with lots of tears and breaking. It's totally polarised my play brain. So...cute pyjama scenes or dark and stormy towers and tears and pain. Hum. Both are nice.
I also saw the cutest school uniforms in the World today (except for Lowewood) which has sent my school play brain skipping slightly. I did 14 hours travelling today so LOTS of time to daydream...
I also saw the cutest school uniforms in the World today (except for Lowewood) which has sent my school play brain skipping slightly. I did 14 hours travelling today so LOTS of time to daydream...
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
Pretty on the inside
"Slut-kiss girls won't you promise her smack
Is she pretty on the inside
Is she pretty from the back"
Or so sang Courtney Love to an angry thirteen year old me sitting in my dimmed bedroom burning candles and drinking Hooch with my equally disillusioned best friend. I don't think we thought we were pretty on the inside, though we were both Guides and I was already harbouring dreams of volunteering overseas. We certainly didn't think we were pretty on the outside but we didn't really care - we were becoming alternative - and that was cool.
As a grown-up the people I like the best are the ones who are pretty on the inside - the nice ones, the loyal ones, the ones trying to make a difference in hard circumstances, the clever ones, people who haven't been beaten down by the system. Inside is more important than outside. I sometimes just wish I could see myself in the same way because I know at heart I'm a good person - I work for a charity, I volunteer in various other things, I give up my seat on the tube for old ladies and donate to good causes. I try to be nice to everyone. But I still spend too much time worrying about whether I'd be more likeable if I was thinner or better at doing my make-up or wore more fashionable clothes. Would people love me more if I had perfectly straight hair and could bear to wear heels more often. Would having better skin and less cellulite make me a better person? I think probably not - so why do we all obsess about it so much? Why can I love others for being great people but get so stressed out because I look chubby.
Why does this remotely even belong on a kinky blog? Well because it's my blog and it's what I'm thinking about but also because the scene can be pretty body-centric. You spend hours getting ready to go out and want to look amazing, and when you see you look amazing you feel amazing and the world is a good place. The number one cause of spoilt scenes for me is probably catching a glance of myself in a mirror and not liking what I see, or worrying that my boobs are wobbling when someones whacking me. It's not just a social issue - it's a play issue because when I feel pretty on the outside I feel better, I enjoy play and relax and it's more fun. Which is horribly hypocritical and I guess I do feel the same and have more fun when I've just done something good for someone else but still a bit silly. As I don't worry about other people wobbling when I play - I just want to hold their hand and have a giggle. So why must I worry about me? I think it's probably a girl thing :(
Is she pretty on the inside
Is she pretty from the back"
Or so sang Courtney Love to an angry thirteen year old me sitting in my dimmed bedroom burning candles and drinking Hooch with my equally disillusioned best friend. I don't think we thought we were pretty on the inside, though we were both Guides and I was already harbouring dreams of volunteering overseas. We certainly didn't think we were pretty on the outside but we didn't really care - we were becoming alternative - and that was cool.
As a grown-up the people I like the best are the ones who are pretty on the inside - the nice ones, the loyal ones, the ones trying to make a difference in hard circumstances, the clever ones, people who haven't been beaten down by the system. Inside is more important than outside. I sometimes just wish I could see myself in the same way because I know at heart I'm a good person - I work for a charity, I volunteer in various other things, I give up my seat on the tube for old ladies and donate to good causes. I try to be nice to everyone. But I still spend too much time worrying about whether I'd be more likeable if I was thinner or better at doing my make-up or wore more fashionable clothes. Would people love me more if I had perfectly straight hair and could bear to wear heels more often. Would having better skin and less cellulite make me a better person? I think probably not - so why do we all obsess about it so much? Why can I love others for being great people but get so stressed out because I look chubby.
Why does this remotely even belong on a kinky blog? Well because it's my blog and it's what I'm thinking about but also because the scene can be pretty body-centric. You spend hours getting ready to go out and want to look amazing, and when you see you look amazing you feel amazing and the world is a good place. The number one cause of spoilt scenes for me is probably catching a glance of myself in a mirror and not liking what I see, or worrying that my boobs are wobbling when someones whacking me. It's not just a social issue - it's a play issue because when I feel pretty on the outside I feel better, I enjoy play and relax and it's more fun. Which is horribly hypocritical and I guess I do feel the same and have more fun when I've just done something good for someone else but still a bit silly. As I don't worry about other people wobbling when I play - I just want to hold their hand and have a giggle. So why must I worry about me? I think it's probably a girl thing :(
Monday, 2 November 2009
All roped up and nowhere to go...
I am away from home, jetlagged and struggling with the kinky blogging - which is a shame because a few half-formed ideas are so hot they virtually beg to be put down on paper. It's frustrating but these trips seem to either inspire a train of filth or leave me high and dry.
What I have been thinking about is rope and the yummy associated spaceyness. Not to mention the snug and safe feeling when it is nice rope. Rope has the ability to make me very compliant and well behaved. On the weekend of the guinea pig incident (sniggers) the boy interest and I were playing around with some new rope and I was being a very good girl indeed - docilely raising this hand or that and standing still while he did pretty things. It was fun. I also got to do some lovely rope work out clubbing last weekend and there are lots of subsequent happy-Rebecca photos of me in a happy, safe, restrained place. All you need to add is the boy interest and a bit of hair stroking and I'm in 7th heaven...though lots of yummy whacking and abuse does that too. Seriously people though - comfy rope - it's the way forward (or upside down/back to front...)
What I have been thinking about is rope and the yummy associated spaceyness. Not to mention the snug and safe feeling when it is nice rope. Rope has the ability to make me very compliant and well behaved. On the weekend of the guinea pig incident (sniggers) the boy interest and I were playing around with some new rope and I was being a very good girl indeed - docilely raising this hand or that and standing still while he did pretty things. It was fun. I also got to do some lovely rope work out clubbing last weekend and there are lots of subsequent happy-Rebecca photos of me in a happy, safe, restrained place. All you need to add is the boy interest and a bit of hair stroking and I'm in 7th heaven...though lots of yummy whacking and abuse does that too. Seriously people though - comfy rope - it's the way forward (or upside down/back to front...)
Friday, 30 October 2009
Airport lounge discipline
I'm off on my travels again with work. It's not too glamorous - 18 hour journeys in economy that leave you dying for a shower and a sleep (but what I do is worthwhile so it's ok). One of the pluses is that we can access the business lounges at airports so if we're in transit we can recharge laptops and chill out a bit. My membership card's only just arrived so I was very excited as I bounced off my horrid night flight and went in search of the lounge - and felt very pleased with myself as I settled myself down with a coffee, orange juice and some museli on a nice big sofa.
There were 'no sleeping' signs on all the sofas but it was pretty quiet so I commandeered one as I checked my email. Then stretched out on it, then lay all the way down and had a bit of a snooze only to be woken by someone telling me that was against the rules. It would have seemed rather apt if they gave overly dozy girls a spanking to ensure that they wouldn't fall asleep again - and with the view over the airport would have been quite a cool place to play. Sadly not, though I did charm the man into getting a diet coke for me to 'wake me up'...
There were 'no sleeping' signs on all the sofas but it was pretty quiet so I commandeered one as I checked my email. Then stretched out on it, then lay all the way down and had a bit of a snooze only to be woken by someone telling me that was against the rules. It would have seemed rather apt if they gave overly dozy girls a spanking to ensure that they wouldn't fall asleep again - and with the view over the airport would have been quite a cool place to play. Sadly not, though I did charm the man into getting a diet coke for me to 'wake me up'...
Tuesday, 27 October 2009
Sing a song of weekends...
the internet gone awry,
four and twenty stern strokes,
though I didn't cry.
Enough bad poetry I think. Due to the incompetence of O2 we have been internetless at home for the last week and a bit, which has led to a bit of a hiatus in posting. This is a great shame as I've been rather busy on the play front - a visit to the boy interest (who has abandoned me to study down South temporarily - booo!), various extremely hot scenes with friends not to mention kinky clubbing fun.
However I am well aware that the burning question for many will be the true identity of Mr Brown. During my weekend visit much debate over this ensued which ended in my conducting a straw poll via text of several friends asking
'A survey - do we think Mr Brown most resembles a) a fluffy bunny b) a cuddly koala or c) a cute guinea pig?!'
Surprisingly the majority voted for guinea pig! I was however rather charmed by Jessica's response, which concurred with me that he is really a fluffy bunny but painted a delightful picture of him hopping around the staffroom for Miss Cavendish in his ears and yellow shorts (I will not divulge the rest of the text - I do have some mild sense of preservation but it did involve a carrot!). Unfortunately the majority have spoken - Mr Brown is really a cute guinea pig. Possibly except for when he's whacking me for *actually* surveying my friends on this delicate question - then he is neither cute nor guinea pig like but really rather scary...not to scary as to dampen my spirits for long though - when he accidentally added 'hamster' to the list of choices I had given people I was still very tempted to re-poll including the option of d) happy hamster but did have to think about my phone bill. Ahem.
More about the other shenanigans to follow...
four and twenty stern strokes,
though I didn't cry.
Enough bad poetry I think. Due to the incompetence of O2 we have been internetless at home for the last week and a bit, which has led to a bit of a hiatus in posting. This is a great shame as I've been rather busy on the play front - a visit to the boy interest (who has abandoned me to study down South temporarily - booo!), various extremely hot scenes with friends not to mention kinky clubbing fun.
However I am well aware that the burning question for many will be the true identity of Mr Brown. During my weekend visit much debate over this ensued which ended in my conducting a straw poll via text of several friends asking
'A survey - do we think Mr Brown most resembles a) a fluffy bunny b) a cuddly koala or c) a cute guinea pig?!'
Surprisingly the majority voted for guinea pig! I was however rather charmed by Jessica's response, which concurred with me that he is really a fluffy bunny but painted a delightful picture of him hopping around the staffroom for Miss Cavendish in his ears and yellow shorts (I will not divulge the rest of the text - I do have some mild sense of preservation but it did involve a carrot!). Unfortunately the majority have spoken - Mr Brown is really a cute guinea pig. Possibly except for when he's whacking me for *actually* surveying my friends on this delicate question - then he is neither cute nor guinea pig like but really rather scary...not to scary as to dampen my spirits for long though - when he accidentally added 'hamster' to the list of choices I had given people I was still very tempted to re-poll including the option of d) happy hamster but did have to think about my phone bill. Ahem.
More about the other shenanigans to follow...
Thursday, 15 October 2009
Mine
I'm kneeling on the bed trying to sit still as I wait. Seamed stockings carefully straightened, frilly french knickers and a pretty bra. Lots of make-up, he likes it when it runs. I can see myself in the mirror and sit up so my tummy looks better but nervously appraise that I look pretty hot. Good.
He comes in, looks me up and down and strokes my hair. I purr and then wince as he slaps me across the cheek, feeling a bit silly
"Not yet." He laughs, forcefully drawing me over his lap and yanking my knickers to my knees. The sarcastic part of my brain questions why I'd bothered when losing them was inevitable. To make sure it was inevitable I suppose in a bizarre way. One hand crushes my neck into the bed as the other plays across my bottom and thighs and my breathing becomes more shallow.
"You know that you deserve this." He says quietly, more of a statement than a question. I nod slightly and hide my face and gasp as he painfully uses my hair to yank my head up and asks me again.
"Yes sir." I whisper, feeling my cheeks start to burn with shame. He releases my hair and resumes his grip on my neck, which is strangely comforting. I take a deep breath and cross my ankles in reflex to playing the waiting game. When his hand smacks down hard upon my bottom it's almost a relief, no more waiting. I lie there quietly as he none too gently warms me up and try not to make too much of a fuss.
He indicates I should kneel up and slides out from under me before pointing at the bed. I give him puppy dog eyes but kneel on the bed with my knees slightly apart and shoulders all the way down, making myself available. He taps at the insides of my thighs with his crop and I reluctantly shuffle them apart, shivering slightly.
I'm not surprised when he strikes my bottom hard with the crop, it was always going to happen - both what I want and what I need. What we both want. He's not holding back though, laying it on hard and relentlessly covering my bottom with fiery welts as I whimper and try not to wriggle. There's no point counting and I try to focus on my breathing as the pain builds, yelping as a stray stroke strikes my thigh and then groaning as the next one hits the other thigh and it's obvious it wasn't a mistake. I claw at the duvet as he dishes out a few more, I can see in the mirror the vivid red against my white thighs through eyes that are beginning to water.
Then the crop is flicking teasingly against my inner thighs and I shudder nervously. Suddenly it's not so teasing and I'm squirming in pain as he hits them harder. Just as I reach the point of struggling to stay still he runs the crop across my pussy, making me moan as he teases me and then gasp as he slaps me there lightly. The message that he can do what he likes couldn't be any clearer.
He runs the crop down my spine and I shiver suspiciously. His hand is rubbing my shoulders and he's whispering that I'm a good girl and I relax a little. Then he squeezes my nipple hard and I gasp and then sigh as he massages it between his fingers, stroking my hair with the other hand. Suddenly he pulls me up by my hair and seeing the clamps laid out on the bed I bite my lip and close my eyes, sometimes it's better not to look.
"Look at me." He insists and I open my eyes and look into his as he tightens the clamps around one nipple and then the other. I try not to whimper but from the sparkle in his eye my face is obviously a giveaway - it bloody hurts. He pushes me back down onto the bed so my breasts are against the sheets and gives the chain a little tug. I can hear him rummaging around and then a swish I know only so well - the cane.
"Two dozen. Count." He decries and I nod but almost jump up after the first one sets me on fire, I can tell it's the dragon cane and that was hard. I count off the strokes obediently, fingers tight on the covers as I try to keep my back arched and not to yelp. Even the slightest movement increases the pain in my nipples, until I don't know what's worse - that horrible aching pain or the burning fire in my bottom. He stops after twelve and traces the welts with his fingernails as I focus on my breathing and try to compose myself. I sob as he pulls on the chain and laughs before slipping his hand between my legs and laughing again and I try not to blush.
"Bad girl." He teases, running his finger through my wetness and casually slipping one inside me. It's embarrassing but that doesn't stop me moaning as he begins to gently tease my clit with one hand and play with my sore nipples with the other. I shift my hips slightly and he slaps me hard on the bottom for being lascivious, I know I'm pouting as I fight to stay still.
Then it stops and the caning resumes. My bottom's cooled down a bit and the first one takes me by surprise and I almost jump up but stop myself in time. If I jump up it doesn't count. I mutter out the count between yelps and cries, it's hurting too much now, past the point where I have full control over my reactions. Without looking I know my bottom is a mess of welts and there's still six more to go, and that they'll be the hardest. He starts high and true to form they are harder, it's like being branded and I start to tear up and have to point my toes to keep still. The next three are placed neatly an inch below the one before with about a minutes gap for me to roll my hips and breath it out before resuming my white knuckle grip on the duvet for the next one. The fifth one lands right on the crease and I shriek and kick my feet but stay down, deep breaths almost choking me as I close my eyes and wait nervously for the last stroke. He swishes the cane through the air a few more time and I tighten my grip in anticipation as my world explodes with white hot pain.
My breathing slows and suddenly I'm aware of the awful pain in my nipples again, he is touching them gently and even that is agony. Slowly he pulls them off one at a time and I sob as the blood rushes back in and wriggle around in response. Roughly he forces himself inside me, squeezes them hard and whispers "Mine."
He comes in, looks me up and down and strokes my hair. I purr and then wince as he slaps me across the cheek, feeling a bit silly
"Not yet." He laughs, forcefully drawing me over his lap and yanking my knickers to my knees. The sarcastic part of my brain questions why I'd bothered when losing them was inevitable. To make sure it was inevitable I suppose in a bizarre way. One hand crushes my neck into the bed as the other plays across my bottom and thighs and my breathing becomes more shallow.
"You know that you deserve this." He says quietly, more of a statement than a question. I nod slightly and hide my face and gasp as he painfully uses my hair to yank my head up and asks me again.
"Yes sir." I whisper, feeling my cheeks start to burn with shame. He releases my hair and resumes his grip on my neck, which is strangely comforting. I take a deep breath and cross my ankles in reflex to playing the waiting game. When his hand smacks down hard upon my bottom it's almost a relief, no more waiting. I lie there quietly as he none too gently warms me up and try not to make too much of a fuss.
He indicates I should kneel up and slides out from under me before pointing at the bed. I give him puppy dog eyes but kneel on the bed with my knees slightly apart and shoulders all the way down, making myself available. He taps at the insides of my thighs with his crop and I reluctantly shuffle them apart, shivering slightly.
I'm not surprised when he strikes my bottom hard with the crop, it was always going to happen - both what I want and what I need. What we both want. He's not holding back though, laying it on hard and relentlessly covering my bottom with fiery welts as I whimper and try not to wriggle. There's no point counting and I try to focus on my breathing as the pain builds, yelping as a stray stroke strikes my thigh and then groaning as the next one hits the other thigh and it's obvious it wasn't a mistake. I claw at the duvet as he dishes out a few more, I can see in the mirror the vivid red against my white thighs through eyes that are beginning to water.
Then the crop is flicking teasingly against my inner thighs and I shudder nervously. Suddenly it's not so teasing and I'm squirming in pain as he hits them harder. Just as I reach the point of struggling to stay still he runs the crop across my pussy, making me moan as he teases me and then gasp as he slaps me there lightly. The message that he can do what he likes couldn't be any clearer.
He runs the crop down my spine and I shiver suspiciously. His hand is rubbing my shoulders and he's whispering that I'm a good girl and I relax a little. Then he squeezes my nipple hard and I gasp and then sigh as he massages it between his fingers, stroking my hair with the other hand. Suddenly he pulls me up by my hair and seeing the clamps laid out on the bed I bite my lip and close my eyes, sometimes it's better not to look.
"Look at me." He insists and I open my eyes and look into his as he tightens the clamps around one nipple and then the other. I try not to whimper but from the sparkle in his eye my face is obviously a giveaway - it bloody hurts. He pushes me back down onto the bed so my breasts are against the sheets and gives the chain a little tug. I can hear him rummaging around and then a swish I know only so well - the cane.
"Two dozen. Count." He decries and I nod but almost jump up after the first one sets me on fire, I can tell it's the dragon cane and that was hard. I count off the strokes obediently, fingers tight on the covers as I try to keep my back arched and not to yelp. Even the slightest movement increases the pain in my nipples, until I don't know what's worse - that horrible aching pain or the burning fire in my bottom. He stops after twelve and traces the welts with his fingernails as I focus on my breathing and try to compose myself. I sob as he pulls on the chain and laughs before slipping his hand between my legs and laughing again and I try not to blush.
"Bad girl." He teases, running his finger through my wetness and casually slipping one inside me. It's embarrassing but that doesn't stop me moaning as he begins to gently tease my clit with one hand and play with my sore nipples with the other. I shift my hips slightly and he slaps me hard on the bottom for being lascivious, I know I'm pouting as I fight to stay still.
Then it stops and the caning resumes. My bottom's cooled down a bit and the first one takes me by surprise and I almost jump up but stop myself in time. If I jump up it doesn't count. I mutter out the count between yelps and cries, it's hurting too much now, past the point where I have full control over my reactions. Without looking I know my bottom is a mess of welts and there's still six more to go, and that they'll be the hardest. He starts high and true to form they are harder, it's like being branded and I start to tear up and have to point my toes to keep still. The next three are placed neatly an inch below the one before with about a minutes gap for me to roll my hips and breath it out before resuming my white knuckle grip on the duvet for the next one. The fifth one lands right on the crease and I shriek and kick my feet but stay down, deep breaths almost choking me as I close my eyes and wait nervously for the last stroke. He swishes the cane through the air a few more time and I tighten my grip in anticipation as my world explodes with white hot pain.
My breathing slows and suddenly I'm aware of the awful pain in my nipples again, he is touching them gently and even that is agony. Slowly he pulls them off one at a time and I sob as the blood rushes back in and wriggle around in response. Roughly he forces himself inside me, squeezes them hard and whispers "Mine."
Wednesday, 14 October 2009
Three's a crowd?
Living in a kinky girls' flat the issues surrounding poly and it's many permutations never stay out of the conversation for too long. Of the four of us I have the boy interest (though it's probably more accurate to say he has me :) ) and we can play with other people, one girl has a vanilla monogamous boyfriend (which causes all sorts of problems - particularly because she's very minxy and he is horribly possessive), another has a boyfriend but they play and have sex with other people and the fourth was in a poly relationship with a couple.
'Was' being the definitive word above as the last few days have been fraught with the break-up. Things hadn't been good for a while - they alternated between voicing their adoration and ignoring her when life got busy and so the poor girl's been up and down like a yoyo. At a party at the weekend they pretty much ignored her to play with another girl (henceforth to be called skanky ho bag) and talked about skanky ho bag visiting them and being their pet, which understandably really upset lovely flatmate.
All of this got me thinking about how well various dynamics do or don't work. I have several friends who have been badly hurt by being the third in a collapsed poly dynamic. I think the problem is that unless all three people meet at once the original couple have a shared history and tendency to divert to looking after each other when things get tough. You also have the issue of roaming eyes - if they spot something newer and more novel there's a fairly high risk that the third gets pushed away to make room in the cupboard for a new toy. Not pushed out, just pushed away, at which point self-protecting types walk away and take their independence over a dusty corner (aka most of my friends).
Don't get me wrong - I do think poly can work but am not sure about proper poly relationships - I do know people who have them but generally not all dynamics are equal, which seems to help. Please comment if you have your own thoughts! Some friends I have are a couple and have multiple girlfriends and special friends and coordinate it all via complex diaries, a ginormous bed and strict divisions of time - they swear by it. Others keep the emotional stuff monogamous but play and physical things are more flexible. Don't even mention all the various shades of grey!
What's great about our house is that we can talk about these things - so if someone has a problem with a playmate or kink influences relationship issues there are no barred topics. We can convivially discuss increased risk of STIs, problems with bruising between sessions and how to deal with someone's boyfriend wanting to have a threesome with a girl they don't like as we can problems at work or whose turn it is to clean the bathroom. Actually, I think threesomes are easier than the dreaded cleaning chat!
Thoughts, insights or experiences very welcome. I think it is quite an individual thing and dynamics very much depend on the personalities involved. What I know I don't like is people hurting my friends. The question is - is it pleasure doubled or sorrow doubled?
'Was' being the definitive word above as the last few days have been fraught with the break-up. Things hadn't been good for a while - they alternated between voicing their adoration and ignoring her when life got busy and so the poor girl's been up and down like a yoyo. At a party at the weekend they pretty much ignored her to play with another girl (henceforth to be called skanky ho bag) and talked about skanky ho bag visiting them and being their pet, which understandably really upset lovely flatmate.
All of this got me thinking about how well various dynamics do or don't work. I have several friends who have been badly hurt by being the third in a collapsed poly dynamic. I think the problem is that unless all three people meet at once the original couple have a shared history and tendency to divert to looking after each other when things get tough. You also have the issue of roaming eyes - if they spot something newer and more novel there's a fairly high risk that the third gets pushed away to make room in the cupboard for a new toy. Not pushed out, just pushed away, at which point self-protecting types walk away and take their independence over a dusty corner (aka most of my friends).
Don't get me wrong - I do think poly can work but am not sure about proper poly relationships - I do know people who have them but generally not all dynamics are equal, which seems to help. Please comment if you have your own thoughts! Some friends I have are a couple and have multiple girlfriends and special friends and coordinate it all via complex diaries, a ginormous bed and strict divisions of time - they swear by it. Others keep the emotional stuff monogamous but play and physical things are more flexible. Don't even mention all the various shades of grey!
What's great about our house is that we can talk about these things - so if someone has a problem with a playmate or kink influences relationship issues there are no barred topics. We can convivially discuss increased risk of STIs, problems with bruising between sessions and how to deal with someone's boyfriend wanting to have a threesome with a girl they don't like as we can problems at work or whose turn it is to clean the bathroom. Actually, I think threesomes are easier than the dreaded cleaning chat!
Thoughts, insights or experiences very welcome. I think it is quite an individual thing and dynamics very much depend on the personalities involved. What I know I don't like is people hurting my friends. The question is - is it pleasure doubled or sorrow doubled?
Tuesday, 13 October 2009
Love Our Lurkers Day!
Today is the fourth annual 'Love our Lurkers Day' organised by the wonderful Bonnie of My Bottom Smarts. So a chance for any shy, embarrassed or simply rather quiet people to say hello and delurk - I would love to hear from you. Why not just say hi, ask any burning questions you may have (please not why is your posting so erratic - yes I am a bit lazy!) or just give a big wave. The spanking community is wonderfully friendly and it would be great to hear from any new people...in fact if I don't I shall feel unloved and downright pouty!
As for delurking and blogging a bit more myself -later this week I promise :)
As for delurking and blogging a bit more myself -later this week I promise :)
Tuesday, 6 October 2009
ERECTION SPECIALISTS
I know men like to let each other know that 'mine's bigger than yours' but surely this is taking penis envy a bit far? Amusingly the bloke in the van tried to stop me taking a picture but failed miserably...What will we see next?
'TRAMLINE EXPERTS
'MARKS GUARANTEED'
'I HAVE THE BIGGEST PADDLE'
'BRATS PULVERISED'
Feel free to add your own suggestions (yes, I am a little bored today!)
Monday, 5 October 2009
Back to School
For real rather than play for once. Having sorrowfully graduated, packed my bags, bought a suit and moved to London for a grown-up job three years ago it's more than a little surreal. I'm not full-time, as my job is 5 days a week (and more when I'm travelling) it's just one evening a week for three hours, plus at least as much reading again. All in all pretty manageable but when you factor in the job, friends, exercising, coaching and music making I have some worries about whether I'll make time.
Despite involving a manic dash across town after work and increasing fixation on dinner as the class progresses the whole process is quite nostalgic. Repeatedly going back to the union to see if my card was ready, photocopying journals in the library at lunchtime, hiding the last copy of the book I wanted because my library card hadn't come through (naughty by necessary), taking the piss out of the really annoying girl in the class, stocking up on shiny new highlighters, pens and paper - lots of things. The deadline deja-vu hasn't arisen yet as the first essay isn't due for weeks - a huge difference from my first degree when I was expected to churn out 3,000 words three times in two weeks! I am fully anticipating that I will still procrastinate gloriously over it though!
Another big difference is that I'll be in trouble if I don't do the reading or make deadlines - with the boy interest off to study to be a Master (ho ho) a long way away we've made some rules. I'm determined to be good and keep *that* particular rule as the course is something I really want to do for me...as for some of the others...we'll see...rules and Rebecca have a somewhat rocky relationship (hence the blog title). Still it is rather brave of him - the first guy who spanked me in my last year at Uni didn't dare impose rules around me studying, not that I'd have let him if he'd wanted to! It does feel a little like I'm living in interesting times as rules and me don't tend to mix but I think it's important to have some to help us maintain our dynamic over a distance - I'll probably live to regret it!
Despite involving a manic dash across town after work and increasing fixation on dinner as the class progresses the whole process is quite nostalgic. Repeatedly going back to the union to see if my card was ready, photocopying journals in the library at lunchtime, hiding the last copy of the book I wanted because my library card hadn't come through (naughty by necessary), taking the piss out of the really annoying girl in the class, stocking up on shiny new highlighters, pens and paper - lots of things. The deadline deja-vu hasn't arisen yet as the first essay isn't due for weeks - a huge difference from my first degree when I was expected to churn out 3,000 words three times in two weeks! I am fully anticipating that I will still procrastinate gloriously over it though!
Another big difference is that I'll be in trouble if I don't do the reading or make deadlines - with the boy interest off to study to be a Master (ho ho) a long way away we've made some rules. I'm determined to be good and keep *that* particular rule as the course is something I really want to do for me...as for some of the others...we'll see...rules and Rebecca have a somewhat rocky relationship (hence the blog title). Still it is rather brave of him - the first guy who spanked me in my last year at Uni didn't dare impose rules around me studying, not that I'd have let him if he'd wanted to! It does feel a little like I'm living in interesting times as rules and me don't tend to mix but I think it's important to have some to help us maintain our dynamic over a distance - I'll probably live to regret it!
Saturday, 3 October 2009
Vulnerability
Vulnerability is a huge part of what we do. Vulnerability for subs in really letting themselves go and submitting to someone else's whims but also vulnerability for Doms in exercising what the mainstream labels as misogynistic or abusive. I've had some interesting discussions with guys who've always had urges to spank their girlfriend or tie them up but found it really hard to accept because they were 'nice guys' and it wasn't really socially acceptable. Likewise as a tough and independent girl sometimes part of my head questions what I'm doing in giving someone such power over me.
Having the confidence to let myself be vulnerable is a difficult thing it contradicts almost everything that I am. We moved a lot when I was a kid so I was often 'the new girl on the block' and learned to stand up for myself or be stood on. In a rough secondary school I struggled with being bright in an environment where that was a very negative thing - when you added an interest in music, drama and sport (it wasn't the done thing to be interested in anything) I was a natural target for bullies. I took up judo and earned a reputation as a bad person to pick a fight with because I'd hit back hard and was capable of being just as foul-mouthed as anyone who wanted to have a pop at me. Amusingly I gathered a bit of a following - I remember my Mum sitting in horror as I bought home kids who spoke solely in four letter words and would pick fights on my behalf. University was fabulous but I was socially a bit out of my depth as most of the others were from much more privileged backgrounds, my Director of Studies made comments about having problems with people from 'schools like yours' and was unable to understand that I *had* to work two jobs all summer if I wanted to come back next year at all. I've made my mark by my ability to stand on my own feet and still do - I'm ten years younger than anyone else in my current job, and confidence and presence are crucial for pulling it off - sometimes I laugh at how on earth I'm doing this job.
So, letting myself be vulnerable isn't easy and takes a great deal of trust. On a subconscious level it's probably a big part of why I'm wired to be sexually submissive - something has to give somewhere. It takes time for me to feel comfortable letting myself go with people, which is why I role play a lot. In big scenes like schools I don't have to be vulnerable - Rebecca at school certainly isn't. Some people I've played with probably don't think of me as being submissive at all. The boy interest and I did something new recently and afterwards he commented that he thought I'd fight more and I explained that I didn't need to as it was his choice and I wanted to make him happy and I trust him.
Being vulnerable really comes into play when you're one on one or in small groups. Letting myself stop fighting, whimper when something hurts or purr when I'm happy is important - it's part of the intimacy of what we do. Being vulnerable is really letting my playmates in, through all the barriers to a part of me that lies deeper inside. As I've grown as a sub it's something that I can do more easily but it's still a very personal part of myself that I can only relax into with people that I really trust and feel safe around.
You don't have to go to that part of your head to enjoy play - it's just another aspect - a bit like the fear factor. If I'm socialising with friends and someone jokingly pulls me over their lap or tells me off it's not an issue. As a bit of a masochist sometimes I don't want to be vulnerable and play quite tough characters - resistance is fun and the banter that goes with it can be very sexy and make for a great scene. But the bit where the resistance falters and I crumple and yield and let myself go is special and something I can only do with people I feel totally comfortable with.
Having the confidence to let myself be vulnerable is a difficult thing it contradicts almost everything that I am. We moved a lot when I was a kid so I was often 'the new girl on the block' and learned to stand up for myself or be stood on. In a rough secondary school I struggled with being bright in an environment where that was a very negative thing - when you added an interest in music, drama and sport (it wasn't the done thing to be interested in anything) I was a natural target for bullies. I took up judo and earned a reputation as a bad person to pick a fight with because I'd hit back hard and was capable of being just as foul-mouthed as anyone who wanted to have a pop at me. Amusingly I gathered a bit of a following - I remember my Mum sitting in horror as I bought home kids who spoke solely in four letter words and would pick fights on my behalf. University was fabulous but I was socially a bit out of my depth as most of the others were from much more privileged backgrounds, my Director of Studies made comments about having problems with people from 'schools like yours' and was unable to understand that I *had* to work two jobs all summer if I wanted to come back next year at all. I've made my mark by my ability to stand on my own feet and still do - I'm ten years younger than anyone else in my current job, and confidence and presence are crucial for pulling it off - sometimes I laugh at how on earth I'm doing this job.
So, letting myself be vulnerable isn't easy and takes a great deal of trust. On a subconscious level it's probably a big part of why I'm wired to be sexually submissive - something has to give somewhere. It takes time for me to feel comfortable letting myself go with people, which is why I role play a lot. In big scenes like schools I don't have to be vulnerable - Rebecca at school certainly isn't. Some people I've played with probably don't think of me as being submissive at all. The boy interest and I did something new recently and afterwards he commented that he thought I'd fight more and I explained that I didn't need to as it was his choice and I wanted to make him happy and I trust him.
Being vulnerable really comes into play when you're one on one or in small groups. Letting myself stop fighting, whimper when something hurts or purr when I'm happy is important - it's part of the intimacy of what we do. Being vulnerable is really letting my playmates in, through all the barriers to a part of me that lies deeper inside. As I've grown as a sub it's something that I can do more easily but it's still a very personal part of myself that I can only relax into with people that I really trust and feel safe around.
You don't have to go to that part of your head to enjoy play - it's just another aspect - a bit like the fear factor. If I'm socialising with friends and someone jokingly pulls me over their lap or tells me off it's not an issue. As a bit of a masochist sometimes I don't want to be vulnerable and play quite tough characters - resistance is fun and the banter that goes with it can be very sexy and make for a great scene. But the bit where the resistance falters and I crumple and yield and let myself go is special and something I can only do with people I feel totally comfortable with.
Friday, 2 October 2009
The Fear Factor
The 'Fear Factor' can be one of the biggest rushes in a scene BDSM in general. The slightly sick, out of body feeling when you hear that tone of voice and the build-up has been just right. The looming realisation that something's going to happen and it's going to hurt and you deserve it. For me the fear factor is greatest in role play scenes as in reality tangible fears don't hold much sway over me (but don't get me started over the intangible fears). Be it the strict headmaster, the reformatory warden who is clearly a real sadist or a vengeful slave master someone people who can go with me to a place where I'm genuinely scared and subsequently repentant or at the very least cowed are wonderful.
There was a time in the not so distant past when the fear factor rose more quickly. In a couple of very memorable scenes when I was first dipping my toes into the waters of 'the scene' and BDSM as opposed to kinky games with a boyfriend I actually fainted. The fear (and shock) factors of being in a real dungeon with real implements I'd only heard about in books with someone I barely knew scared the hell out of me but in a really hot way. In all honesty the actual fainting wasn't hot but that level of nerves whenever someone so much as spanked me was.
The fear factor doesn't necessarily kick in because you're going to play really hard - it's a mindset. It's the build up, the uncompromising tone of voice, the unyielding nature of having to be in a certain position or respond in a certain way, the relentless hand forcing your head further down and the associated feeling of helplessness. The indicators that someone means business kicking in and you senses hitting a heightened level meaning less can even be more. I love it and the sick feeling in my stomach that comes with it.
Thinking about recent play it's not something that has been kicking in so much. The boy interest and I are experimenting with Ds and playing more as us (which is both scary and wonderful in a completely different way) and I don't seem to have got round to playing that type of imbalanced mind-fuck of a scene. This led to me thinking about why and I think part of it is being rather stressed with real-life issues and physically away, which has left me with less time to plot evil scenes and ferment bad behaviour - I haven't been playing so many 'formal' scenes and those I have played have been hot and fun rather than scary. I also have been too taken with the boy to meet new people. I'm not sure if you tend to have these scenes more with someone new but I think sometimes it can make it more scary but then as Emma Jane rightly pointed out if a scene is going to push your limits as part of the fear factor the trust of being with established playmates is absolutely crucial. Thinking about it has given me the urge to plan some scene that will push the 'fear factor' as looking back those scenes have historically been some of my favourites (and I may write about a few) but I throw the floor open - what gives you the 'fear factor'?
There was a time in the not so distant past when the fear factor rose more quickly. In a couple of very memorable scenes when I was first dipping my toes into the waters of 'the scene' and BDSM as opposed to kinky games with a boyfriend I actually fainted. The fear (and shock) factors of being in a real dungeon with real implements I'd only heard about in books with someone I barely knew scared the hell out of me but in a really hot way. In all honesty the actual fainting wasn't hot but that level of nerves whenever someone so much as spanked me was.
The fear factor doesn't necessarily kick in because you're going to play really hard - it's a mindset. It's the build up, the uncompromising tone of voice, the unyielding nature of having to be in a certain position or respond in a certain way, the relentless hand forcing your head further down and the associated feeling of helplessness. The indicators that someone means business kicking in and you senses hitting a heightened level meaning less can even be more. I love it and the sick feeling in my stomach that comes with it.
Thinking about recent play it's not something that has been kicking in so much. The boy interest and I are experimenting with Ds and playing more as us (which is both scary and wonderful in a completely different way) and I don't seem to have got round to playing that type of imbalanced mind-fuck of a scene. This led to me thinking about why and I think part of it is being rather stressed with real-life issues and physically away, which has left me with less time to plot evil scenes and ferment bad behaviour - I haven't been playing so many 'formal' scenes and those I have played have been hot and fun rather than scary. I also have been too taken with the boy to meet new people. I'm not sure if you tend to have these scenes more with someone new but I think sometimes it can make it more scary but then as Emma Jane rightly pointed out if a scene is going to push your limits as part of the fear factor the trust of being with established playmates is absolutely crucial. Thinking about it has given me the urge to plan some scene that will push the 'fear factor' as looking back those scenes have historically been some of my favourites (and I may write about a few) but I throw the floor open - what gives you the 'fear factor'?
Friday, 25 September 2009
War and Peace
The boy interest jokingly told me last week (following the fighting back incident) that if I was a book I'd be 'War and Peace'. My response to this was "What - thick and boring?!", which he tactfully assured me wasn't the case. Apparently it's because I alternate between being very feisty and all mellow and mewly and am a little hard to read, which is actually rather clever of him.
You see I am very peaceful sometimes, lying and purring happily as the boy interest (or if we're honest anyone - I'm a bit of a sensation slut) strokes my hair or back. Being all good when he wants to do something horrible to me and doing as I'm told even if I know it's going to hurt. Cuddling up with my head on his chest after we've played and it's over and I'm a 'good girl' again. If you extend the 'peace' thing beyond the bedroom it's me cleaning the kitchen tonight, even though I'd rather go out or cooking nice meals when I'm tired or listening to my flatmates when I've got in from an awful day and just want to curl up in a heap. I also do my bit to keep the peace - I make a visible effort to be nice to people, even if I have no real reason to, give up my seat on the tube to old ladies and am learning to bit my tongue - that sort of thing.
Then there's the warlike Rebecca, who can be downright scary. Not just 'fighting back' in scenes but more often than not in my vanilla life. I'm off for an alumni weekend with university friends that involves us taking on other alumni teams and reliving the college rivalry, and the messages about 'not just beating them - breaking them' and 'shattering their dreams' have been flying thick and fast. I'm terribly, terribly excited as this has been on the cards since January and I'm organising our team and can't wait to get out there and give them hell (even though I'm not technically allowed but I'll tell my physio I was lifting a box...or something). Truth be told I love the thrill of the fight - giving everything and then a bit more to win and I always have, my friends joke about us having 'Rebecca power' because when I set my mind to something I have a tendency to beat the odds and pushing that is a huge rush. Having a hated rival (as we do this weekend) makes it even more fun because it gives that extra little frisson to drive you a bit harder. Warlike...me...never!
Still it's an interesting combination - war and peace that in some way parallels my kinky and vanilla lives. In my vanilla life I go out to bat against the world and usually win - having had to fight for everything I've ever achieved it's instinctive to do so. I'm a very good friend to those I care about (and will always drop everything if a friend needs me - no questions asked) but in battle I show my rivals no quarter because I know all too well if I do they'll overtake me, supersede me, replace me. That's why my submissive side is so important because it lets me yield without feeling weak, submit to someone else and enjoy a different set of values. If I want to sit with my head on the boy interest's lap during a party and go all subby and mewy I can...and if he wants to use and abuse me he can...unless he's trying to kidnap me. Yep - 'War and Peace' sums it up pretty well :)
You see I am very peaceful sometimes, lying and purring happily as the boy interest (or if we're honest anyone - I'm a bit of a sensation slut) strokes my hair or back. Being all good when he wants to do something horrible to me and doing as I'm told even if I know it's going to hurt. Cuddling up with my head on his chest after we've played and it's over and I'm a 'good girl' again. If you extend the 'peace' thing beyond the bedroom it's me cleaning the kitchen tonight, even though I'd rather go out or cooking nice meals when I'm tired or listening to my flatmates when I've got in from an awful day and just want to curl up in a heap. I also do my bit to keep the peace - I make a visible effort to be nice to people, even if I have no real reason to, give up my seat on the tube to old ladies and am learning to bit my tongue - that sort of thing.
Then there's the warlike Rebecca, who can be downright scary. Not just 'fighting back' in scenes but more often than not in my vanilla life. I'm off for an alumni weekend with university friends that involves us taking on other alumni teams and reliving the college rivalry, and the messages about 'not just beating them - breaking them' and 'shattering their dreams' have been flying thick and fast. I'm terribly, terribly excited as this has been on the cards since January and I'm organising our team and can't wait to get out there and give them hell (even though I'm not technically allowed but I'll tell my physio I was lifting a box...or something). Truth be told I love the thrill of the fight - giving everything and then a bit more to win and I always have, my friends joke about us having 'Rebecca power' because when I set my mind to something I have a tendency to beat the odds and pushing that is a huge rush. Having a hated rival (as we do this weekend) makes it even more fun because it gives that extra little frisson to drive you a bit harder. Warlike...me...never!
Still it's an interesting combination - war and peace that in some way parallels my kinky and vanilla lives. In my vanilla life I go out to bat against the world and usually win - having had to fight for everything I've ever achieved it's instinctive to do so. I'm a very good friend to those I care about (and will always drop everything if a friend needs me - no questions asked) but in battle I show my rivals no quarter because I know all too well if I do they'll overtake me, supersede me, replace me. That's why my submissive side is so important because it lets me yield without feeling weak, submit to someone else and enjoy a different set of values. If I want to sit with my head on the boy interest's lap during a party and go all subby and mewy I can...and if he wants to use and abuse me he can...unless he's trying to kidnap me. Yep - 'War and Peace' sums it up pretty well :)
Wednesday, 23 September 2009
Preparations...
My school shirt has gone in the wash and I've freshly polished my school shoes. I've laid out my school skirt, knee high socks, tie and a fresh pair of white knickers. It was the knickers that created something of a dilemma because they are plain and white but there's a lace band around the waist and I normally prefer my school knickers completely plain. They are pretty and new and still really quite chaste, no lace on the bottom area, maybe he won't even notice.
Tomorrow I will iron the shirt quickly when I get home from work and take off my work 'face'. Put my hair in bunches with black tartan bows and anxiously fiddle with them in an attempt to get them even. I'll sit on the bed and check my email but my mind won't be on it, pat at the duvet and fiddle with my hair and tie again. Sebastian will be most displeased if I'm anything less than perfect when I report to his study you see, the head boy has very high standards.
Too high if you ask me, I mean who really cares if your shirt is tucked in, you walk in the corridors and always raise your hand? I can guarantee no one will die if you don't but Sebastian takes these things very seriously, he obviously has nothing better to do. He takes some things even more seriously as he will impress upon me tomorrow.
The bizarre thing being I also have to prepare Sebastian's study - make the bed, put away the clothes and books strewn on the floor and all that. Rebecca may have a messy room from time to time but Sebastian certainly doesn't. Maybe I'll innocently ask him again if the pink flowery bedspread is a sign that he prefers boys as he sits upon it and takes me across his lap, tell him it's ok to like boys and that I won't tell anyone. Then lie there and whimper as I suffer the consequences. Maybe he'll decide to prove to me once and for all that he isn't gay...if I'm lucky.
Tomorrow I will iron the shirt quickly when I get home from work and take off my work 'face'. Put my hair in bunches with black tartan bows and anxiously fiddle with them in an attempt to get them even. I'll sit on the bed and check my email but my mind won't be on it, pat at the duvet and fiddle with my hair and tie again. Sebastian will be most displeased if I'm anything less than perfect when I report to his study you see, the head boy has very high standards.
Too high if you ask me, I mean who really cares if your shirt is tucked in, you walk in the corridors and always raise your hand? I can guarantee no one will die if you don't but Sebastian takes these things very seriously, he obviously has nothing better to do. He takes some things even more seriously as he will impress upon me tomorrow.
The bizarre thing being I also have to prepare Sebastian's study - make the bed, put away the clothes and books strewn on the floor and all that. Rebecca may have a messy room from time to time but Sebastian certainly doesn't. Maybe I'll innocently ask him again if the pink flowery bedspread is a sign that he prefers boys as he sits upon it and takes me across his lap, tell him it's ok to like boys and that I won't tell anyone. Then lie there and whimper as I suffer the consequences. Maybe he'll decide to prove to me once and for all that he isn't gay...if I'm lucky.
Tuesday, 22 September 2009
This one fights back...
I want to blog on the somewhat sensitive topic of 'fighting back' or resisting in scenes and in this I include verbal resistance as well as more physical struggling. It's a sensitive topic because it tends to divide people into those who are horrified at the concept of a sub resisting (or resisting themselves) and those who enjoy it in context. I fall into the latter category and enjoy waging a battle that I will inevitably eventually lose to the Dom. Some scenes lend themselves better to this than others - truculent reformatory girls, recalcitrant school girls and captured girls condemned to a live of slavery spring to mind. Whilst playing scenes I am generally rather cheeky and I enjoy the banter and verbal sparring that works well in certain role plays - generally if I'm still being cheeky it means I'm up for more play and gives the scene a sense of impetus. Most Doms enjoy this - it gives their stern school teachers or wardens an excuse to bollock me and keeps the scene moving and lets them know that even though they're being really horrible I'm enjoying it. The inevitable 'breaking' in some scenes is the hottest bit but only somewhere I go with people I really trust. There are people that want their school girls to be terrified and obedient but we're generally a bad match so wouldn't play anyway.
The issue of physical struggle is even more difficult. As a qualified self defence instructor with years of martial arts experience I shy away a little from full-blown physical resistance because if I actually fought back there would be broken bones and blood - not exactly hot or sexy. Plus I want the Dom to win in the end. Some of my characters do resist physically - I once did a prison scene with a Dom and another girl and every time he tied one of us up we undid ourselves while he was restraining the other - very funny and no one got hurt. Sometimes struggling physically is fun but I probably only go for it with about 20% force - wriggling a bit and kicking playfully or putting my hand on their crotch to show that I could have hit if I'd wanted to rather than giving them true hell. To be fair 20% of Rebecca is more than most men can restrain anyway but I'd never actually hit anyone or do too much damage because it's not fun and I'm too scared of really hurting someone. I once did an incredibly hot scene with a 6'4" athletic playmate who had done some martial arts - he tied my hands behind my back and my ankles together (coward) and then told me to fight back properly...I rolled us both off the bed, elbowed him in the face and kneed him in the balls before he choked me out and I had to behave - incredibly hot as I knew I wouldn't really hurt him and then he got to punish me for being so difficult and it was all a total surprise.
I had a very surreal experience a couple of weeks ago during the kidnap scene that we organised for Jessica. I knew what was happening and had been involved in the planning but had always been a bit nervous about how I'd react. I was very good and let them restrain me and then when we were lying on the floor started fighting back and got a few good kicks in the shins in before we were transferred to the van (where I was too busy feeling sick to do more than kick at my captors occasionally) and was also good about being transferred to our secure venue (except for refusing to put on my shoes) because I didn't want to influence anyone else's play. It was later (after we were rudely interrupted by a the boy interest's Dad) that I kicked off. I let wrist cuffs be put on but then started fighting the ankle cuffs and despite my hands being restrained and the fact I wasn't hitting hard or doing anything that might really hurt anyone it took 3 guys to finish restraining me. I then proceeded to repeatedly try to escape as the poor boy interest dealt with me, answer 'Are you being to behave now?' with 'Fuck you!' and get more and more irate as the poor boy struggled to work out where his sweet girlfriend had gone and who this hellion was. I got angrier, he got more frustrated and it didn't work - if we'd kept going he would eventually have won but there was a time limit. All very stressful and a bit confusing.
On reflection I realised that the problem was that Rebecca rather than an alter ego had been kidnapped. Rebecca who was very sensible and well behaved to facilitate the kidnap but as soon as she got into headspace recognised she was being kidnapped. And being kidnapped was bad. Rebecca had years of martial arts training to empower her so started kicking off. If I'd been playing someone else it would have been fine - Molly or Dorothea would have been feisty but terrified but Rebecca isn't like that - she fights. There was a sanity to it as my subconscious told me not to throw someone down the stairs and into a cabinet when I had my leg behind theirs on the stairs and not to punch hard or go for any proper self defence targets like eyes but still it was scary because I've never reacted quite that furiously before in a scene.
Lesson 1 - Do not try to kidnap Rebecca unless you have at least 4 men to restrain her.
Lesson 2 - Recognise that conditioning runs deep and is part of you and not something to be altered. When planning scenes that require a different outlook be someone else. It doesn't matter if I quite happily am a good girl and let the boy interest punish me - if in headspace the conditioning will win through.
Lesson 3 - Real life kidnappers (Middle Easterners included) beware - Rebecca is a rubbish target and you would not get many camels at all - you would probably end up giving someone camels to take her!
Lesson 4 - Boy interest is lovely and long suffering!
The issue of physical struggle is even more difficult. As a qualified self defence instructor with years of martial arts experience I shy away a little from full-blown physical resistance because if I actually fought back there would be broken bones and blood - not exactly hot or sexy. Plus I want the Dom to win in the end. Some of my characters do resist physically - I once did a prison scene with a Dom and another girl and every time he tied one of us up we undid ourselves while he was restraining the other - very funny and no one got hurt. Sometimes struggling physically is fun but I probably only go for it with about 20% force - wriggling a bit and kicking playfully or putting my hand on their crotch to show that I could have hit if I'd wanted to rather than giving them true hell. To be fair 20% of Rebecca is more than most men can restrain anyway but I'd never actually hit anyone or do too much damage because it's not fun and I'm too scared of really hurting someone. I once did an incredibly hot scene with a 6'4" athletic playmate who had done some martial arts - he tied my hands behind my back and my ankles together (coward) and then told me to fight back properly...I rolled us both off the bed, elbowed him in the face and kneed him in the balls before he choked me out and I had to behave - incredibly hot as I knew I wouldn't really hurt him and then he got to punish me for being so difficult and it was all a total surprise.
I had a very surreal experience a couple of weeks ago during the kidnap scene that we organised for Jessica. I knew what was happening and had been involved in the planning but had always been a bit nervous about how I'd react. I was very good and let them restrain me and then when we were lying on the floor started fighting back and got a few good kicks in the shins in before we were transferred to the van (where I was too busy feeling sick to do more than kick at my captors occasionally) and was also good about being transferred to our secure venue (except for refusing to put on my shoes) because I didn't want to influence anyone else's play. It was later (after we were rudely interrupted by a the boy interest's Dad) that I kicked off. I let wrist cuffs be put on but then started fighting the ankle cuffs and despite my hands being restrained and the fact I wasn't hitting hard or doing anything that might really hurt anyone it took 3 guys to finish restraining me. I then proceeded to repeatedly try to escape as the poor boy interest dealt with me, answer 'Are you being to behave now?' with 'Fuck you!' and get more and more irate as the poor boy struggled to work out where his sweet girlfriend had gone and who this hellion was. I got angrier, he got more frustrated and it didn't work - if we'd kept going he would eventually have won but there was a time limit. All very stressful and a bit confusing.
On reflection I realised that the problem was that Rebecca rather than an alter ego had been kidnapped. Rebecca who was very sensible and well behaved to facilitate the kidnap but as soon as she got into headspace recognised she was being kidnapped. And being kidnapped was bad. Rebecca had years of martial arts training to empower her so started kicking off. If I'd been playing someone else it would have been fine - Molly or Dorothea would have been feisty but terrified but Rebecca isn't like that - she fights. There was a sanity to it as my subconscious told me not to throw someone down the stairs and into a cabinet when I had my leg behind theirs on the stairs and not to punch hard or go for any proper self defence targets like eyes but still it was scary because I've never reacted quite that furiously before in a scene.
Lesson 1 - Do not try to kidnap Rebecca unless you have at least 4 men to restrain her.
Lesson 2 - Recognise that conditioning runs deep and is part of you and not something to be altered. When planning scenes that require a different outlook be someone else. It doesn't matter if I quite happily am a good girl and let the boy interest punish me - if in headspace the conditioning will win through.
Lesson 3 - Real life kidnappers (Middle Easterners included) beware - Rebecca is a rubbish target and you would not get many camels at all - you would probably end up giving someone camels to take her!
Lesson 4 - Boy interest is lovely and long suffering!
Thursday, 17 September 2009
Who do you think you are?
And other assorted nineties anthems...
Emma Jane recently posted an interesting blog about Balance. This is a topic that is very close to my heart, as someone who often has to choose between three or four vanilla engagements on a Saturday night before you even start to factor in kinky happenings. One of the things that I find difficult about 'the scene' is the difficulty in not becoming so drawn in that I abandon other friends who mean a lot to me. The challenge is that with kinky friends often being in closer proximity it's easy to fold to concerns about 'feeling left out' and skip occasions that are further afield. It's bad but 'being left out' has always been a great fear of mine so sometimes it's hard to stand my ground. It's equally important that I do, because although part of me needs to be sweet and mewling and abused, part of me needs to be alumni president, or a competitive sporty type or whatever other hat might appear on any given day.
As a lot of my vanilla gatherings with uni friends are scheduled a good six months in advance I tend to make myself stick to existing commitments, this becomes difficult when a couple of months later kinky friends make plans on the same weekend and I manage to factor both in, only to find more friends come up with something a month later. The problem is I don't want to let anyone down but have yet to obtain a time turner (anyone who has any ideas on this let me know!). As geographically my kinky friends are more together it can be hard to hear people planning things that I'll miss but to bail out on vanilla events with friends I only see once or twice a year would actually be worse. As I won't see them a week later to hear the gossip - it could be months but it can still feel hard at the time.
Then you have issues of balancing your 'subself' with the girl competing with people a decade older in the workplace or having a burning need to fight it out on the sports field. I found out yesterday that I have to pull out of the half marathon due to problems with my knee (bloody physio was like 'just because you're fit enough to ramp up your mileage that quickly doesn't mean your joints will follow suit') and am really gutted. There's a short race I'd like to do a week later but I'm supposed to be visiting the boy interest (also important as he's lovely) so what I can I do?
It's even a case of balancing my 'playself' between my 'good girl' headset that genuinely wants to please her Dom and playmates and make them proud and my 'bad girl' headset that wants to protest as she's punished or abused and to struggle against this (and actually gets off on this). The 'good girl' bit is the part of me that sweetly bares my thighs for playmates to smack in public and quietly gets off on doing what she's told and the knowledge that people are watching, or the bit of me that wants to sit quietly with my head on the boy interest's lap but the 'bad girl' takes three Doms to pin her down as part of a scene even when she's not really fighting or gives poor reformatory officers verbal hell.
I don't think it's schizophrenia - it's not as if I have separate people in my head - these mindsets are all parts of me but sometimes it's hard to juggle things and work out exactly who I am. However, I know this much - I like chocolate, ritualised punishment scenes, wine, playing on the dance mat with my crazy flatmate, being smacked and abused, being a sensation slut (slightly scary someone recognised this within 30 seconds of meeting me), winning whatever the cost, giving as good as I get, climbing the career ladder, being stroked, fussing over other people, climbing mountains and being a good little girltoy in pretty knickers and a corset. Ooooh and the seaside....Confused...me...never!
Emma Jane recently posted an interesting blog about Balance. This is a topic that is very close to my heart, as someone who often has to choose between three or four vanilla engagements on a Saturday night before you even start to factor in kinky happenings. One of the things that I find difficult about 'the scene' is the difficulty in not becoming so drawn in that I abandon other friends who mean a lot to me. The challenge is that with kinky friends often being in closer proximity it's easy to fold to concerns about 'feeling left out' and skip occasions that are further afield. It's bad but 'being left out' has always been a great fear of mine so sometimes it's hard to stand my ground. It's equally important that I do, because although part of me needs to be sweet and mewling and abused, part of me needs to be alumni president, or a competitive sporty type or whatever other hat might appear on any given day.
As a lot of my vanilla gatherings with uni friends are scheduled a good six months in advance I tend to make myself stick to existing commitments, this becomes difficult when a couple of months later kinky friends make plans on the same weekend and I manage to factor both in, only to find more friends come up with something a month later. The problem is I don't want to let anyone down but have yet to obtain a time turner (anyone who has any ideas on this let me know!). As geographically my kinky friends are more together it can be hard to hear people planning things that I'll miss but to bail out on vanilla events with friends I only see once or twice a year would actually be worse. As I won't see them a week later to hear the gossip - it could be months but it can still feel hard at the time.
Then you have issues of balancing your 'subself' with the girl competing with people a decade older in the workplace or having a burning need to fight it out on the sports field. I found out yesterday that I have to pull out of the half marathon due to problems with my knee (bloody physio was like 'just because you're fit enough to ramp up your mileage that quickly doesn't mean your joints will follow suit') and am really gutted. There's a short race I'd like to do a week later but I'm supposed to be visiting the boy interest (also important as he's lovely) so what I can I do?
It's even a case of balancing my 'playself' between my 'good girl' headset that genuinely wants to please her Dom and playmates and make them proud and my 'bad girl' headset that wants to protest as she's punished or abused and to struggle against this (and actually gets off on this). The 'good girl' bit is the part of me that sweetly bares my thighs for playmates to smack in public and quietly gets off on doing what she's told and the knowledge that people are watching, or the bit of me that wants to sit quietly with my head on the boy interest's lap but the 'bad girl' takes three Doms to pin her down as part of a scene even when she's not really fighting or gives poor reformatory officers verbal hell.
I don't think it's schizophrenia - it's not as if I have separate people in my head - these mindsets are all parts of me but sometimes it's hard to juggle things and work out exactly who I am. However, I know this much - I like chocolate, ritualised punishment scenes, wine, playing on the dance mat with my crazy flatmate, being smacked and abused, being a sensation slut (slightly scary someone recognised this within 30 seconds of meeting me), winning whatever the cost, giving as good as I get, climbing the career ladder, being stroked, fussing over other people, climbing mountains and being a good little girltoy in pretty knickers and a corset. Ooooh and the seaside....Confused...me...never!
Wednesday, 16 September 2009
Corsets and vintage daydreams
I love this photo, mostly because it doesn't look very much like me. The black and white graininess somehow make it look quite vintage and I love the way the light is reflecting on my shoes.
It got me thinking about who I might have been...
A showgirl who had displeased her employer and was abasing herself to save her job, knowing full well she'd feel his crop for messing up her number after a few too many drinks...
An upmarket call girl, who knowing her client's tastes had laced herself tightly into her corset, using the door handle to tighten the laces before kneeling down and arching her back to wait...
A player in a 'Carrie's Story' esque world of slaves and auctions and obedience. Carefully preparing herself to await inspection from a potential master.
Or actually just Rebecca playing dress-up on holiday. I do love corsets though, something about the way they constrict your breathing and movement and force you to sit up straight and stand shoulders back, breasts forward is very sexy. Not to mention the flattering effect on waist size (trust me it's the only way I'll ever achieve a 24" waist!). All in all they tend to make me feel submissive in a very sensual way that wants to be stroked and abused and obedient and a 'good girl'. This contrasts fairly sharply to some of the characters I play during scenes who are very feisty (more about fighting in scenes later this week).
I think corsets are also evocative of a different era, long before the invasion of hoodies, trainers and jeggings. They weren't supposed to be comfortable and when worn for a long period of time could cause all sorts of health problems but they looked sexy and forced women to carry themselves in a certain way. They also restricted their activities - you could hardly row or climb mountains or play rugby very effectively in a corset. In real life I would have been the teenager repeatedly cutting her stays and evoking her governess's wrath but in a play sense they are fun and very effective for putting you into a certain part of your head.
So girlies is it just me or do corsets (and pretty knickers and stockings and all the other accoutrement's) make you feel different?
Sunday, 13 September 2009
Love your curves...
I am not renowned for loving my body. Not that there's anything significantly wrong with it, it's just not quite as teeny tiny and muscle bound as I was in the height of my sporting days, when my mother used to jokingly refer to me as 'the hipless wonder'. It's also a 'girl thing' as by nature we're never happy with our bodies - we want bigger boobs, smaller boobs, more curves, less curves, hate our wonky little toe.
Having just got back from a few lovely days in the sun with the boy interest, which were mostly spent on the beach or by the pool I am feeling a hundred times better about my body. It's bizarre what a bit of sun and being justified in walking about in a bikini and tiny sarong and posing as a mermaid on rocks can do for your confidence. Enjoying your body reminds you why you love it, much like the glow you get after a good workout in the gym. The government should clearly prescribe beach holidays for all those with confidence issues...immediately!
Having just got back from a few lovely days in the sun with the boy interest, which were mostly spent on the beach or by the pool I am feeling a hundred times better about my body. It's bizarre what a bit of sun and being justified in walking about in a bikini and tiny sarong and posing as a mermaid on rocks can do for your confidence. Enjoying your body reminds you why you love it, much like the glow you get after a good workout in the gym. The government should clearly prescribe beach holidays for all those with confidence issues...immediately!
Home and Away...
Have had a bit of a whirlwind ten days that have made for an action-packed week of work. Rebecca went to school last Saturday, Molly made another appearance at the reformatory, I went on holiday with the boy interest for four nights and then we conspired to pull of a surprise kidnap scene for a lovely friend. So apologies for not blogging but sometimes life has to take over...and at least I have a few stories to tell and things to muse on.
Thursday, 3 September 2009
Reality vs. fantasy
I have recently realised that I find it very difficult to write about real scenes, even when sometimes I want to. Other bloggers seem to find this a lot easier, or at least are more disciplined about doing it. Whilst I ramble on quite happily about the ideas and headspaces that come from scenes, or fantasy scenes and images I struggle a bit on writing up actual scenes. When I do I'm rarely happy with them or don't like the way they've come out so they often never make it onto the blog, which is actually quite frustrating.
It's odd because I'm pretty comfortable in writing fiction and thoughts from scenes but seem to have a bit of a stumbling block over write-ups. So I put it off and the moment passes, or drafts are consigned to the rubbish bin. Part of me wonders if it's a little bit to do with being a bit uncomfortable about getting that far inside my own head when putting pen to paper. I also have a bit of a tendency to lose sight of the details when I'm playing - I'll probably remember being caned but probably not how many for example. Not unless it's a very rigid and formal play where the number is a focal aspect.
Strange though, and I must try to get better as it would be nice to record certain things for posterity...
It's odd because I'm pretty comfortable in writing fiction and thoughts from scenes but seem to have a bit of a stumbling block over write-ups. So I put it off and the moment passes, or drafts are consigned to the rubbish bin. Part of me wonders if it's a little bit to do with being a bit uncomfortable about getting that far inside my own head when putting pen to paper. I also have a bit of a tendency to lose sight of the details when I'm playing - I'll probably remember being caned but probably not how many for example. Not unless it's a very rigid and formal play where the number is a focal aspect.
Strange though, and I must try to get better as it would be nice to record certain things for posterity...
Tuesday, 1 September 2009
What's in a name
As a kinky girl who likes to indulge in a little role-play with her slap, slap harder and please don't tickle I sometimes face something of a challenge in coming up with names. This weekend was no exception, after a stressful week I'd failed to email details of my character for the reformatory to my playmates (insert note - bad Rebecca) because I hadn't had the kink energy to come up with someone. The problem being that I already have a reformatory character that I love - but she is really not stupid enough to get sent to the reformatory for a 4th time. I came up with one name and then realised that I'd already used that name and got rather confused. As many of my friends also have multiple identities I also can't use their names and it really gets very complicated at times. Especially when you add real names into the mix...
So who are my various alter-egos?
Rebecca Williams:
Rebecca is my school play character and sort of invented herself when a couple of years ago on short notice I decided to be brave and to to Lowewood Academy for the first time. Rebecca is probably one of my more developed characters and unlike me at school is not overly bothered about anything but also isn't overly badly behaved (as a real schoolgirl I went all night clubbing on school nights, blackmailed the deputy head and almost got arrested on a school trip to Germany so total mayhem isn't that novel). She is just a bit gobby and often rather disinterested in lessons which doesn't always go down too well.
When I first came onto 'the scene' I also introduced myself as Rebecca at Hades and a couple of other club nights before deciding that I might as well use my real name. So Rebecca was an obvious identity for this blog when it started.
Rebecca also occasionally comes out to play as a medieval inn keepers daughter who gets horribly abused by the Lord of the Manor (and loves every minute of it whilst struggling and kicking up a great fuss).
Cassie Abbotts:
For those that used to read Lowewood Academy Cassie was my blog character. Cassie came about because when I auditioned for the blog I didn't want people (many of the writers were already friends) to know that it was me and so created another name. Cassie as a character was also different to Rebecca in many ways. Whilst as school days we can't all be extreme all the time in the blog you needed quite distinctive character traits. In many ways Cassie is closer to me as a person than Rebecca - writing about things you understand and places you've been is easier and produces more realistic scenarios and so it wasn't incidental that Cassie had some of the adventures that she did. Writing Cassie was a lot of fun but she was primarily a fictional character, although I have played as her on occasion and it's fun as she takes few prisoners. The problem being by the time she emerged Rebecca had already slotted into school days and made friends I felt it would be odd to suddenly play someone else.
Tessie Blackmore:
Tessie is my main reformatory character and one of my favourite characters to play. Tessie hates authority but is half accepting of the reformatory and just wants to get it over and done with. Tessie is the leader of a gang of thieves and urchins and got dobbed in by a rival, who she will probably kick the sh*t out of upon escaping the reformatory. In a later play she had attempted to hijack a ship in order to go and find her father who was deported when she was four. The hijack was a great success but unfortunately her gang made better pirates than sailors! Tessie is bright but uneducated and has no interest in a 'straight' occupation. Attempting to run away, stoicism and generally wrecking havoc are Tessie's favourite past times.
Lady Henrietta:
Aka Hetta was my first regency character. Henrietta was born in America and educated at one of the first female universities so is extremely outspoken. Until her parents died she was unaware that she was in fact the grand daughter of the Earl of Charnwood. Following his son's death he recalled her to England (and was somewhat shocked that she travelled there via Paris and Rome) but was horrified to discover that she was fiercely independent, managing her parents business and not the gentle manipulable flower that he had hoped for. Hetta is fun but the period correct women's lib can be quite challenging. One of her finest moments was possibly wrestling a gun from the hands of an intruder. Surprisingly Henrietta does enjoy needlework!
Dorothea:
Is my new, somewhat more mellow regency character for this year. Sweeter and more mellow and being educated by the formidable Miss Anstruthers, her full profile is here
Millie Blackstock:
Millie was a factory girl character that I created for a play with Jessica in which we were threatening a strike unless we got better working conditions. Millie and her counterpart unfortunately created a bit of a stalemate with the overseer in that they were mostly right...
Molly Cranleigh:
Was my new reformatory character, an eighteen year old who attempted to stow away on a ship in order to avoid marriage to the baker's son. Her father owned a general shop. Molly was quite nervous in the reformatory and ended up pretty much agreeing to work at her fellow inmate's 'lodging house' in order to earn her passage to New York.
Sophia:
Was a harem girl character who was not generally too keen on being in a harem so a bit of a handful (not that being a bit of a handful is characteristic of me at play at all...)
Posie Locke:
Posie came into being with an ex-boyfriend who wanted to try a play in which I was a bit younger (I don't really go younger than 16) and so Posie was 12 and a 40s girl and very sweet and shy. It was quite fun but as ageplay isn't a big thing for me isn't a character that I've really explored.
You see it's very difficult because when you create a character the name has to 'feel' right and I'm begining to run out of names...
So who are my various alter-egos?
Rebecca Williams:
Rebecca is my school play character and sort of invented herself when a couple of years ago on short notice I decided to be brave and to to Lowewood Academy for the first time. Rebecca is probably one of my more developed characters and unlike me at school is not overly bothered about anything but also isn't overly badly behaved (as a real schoolgirl I went all night clubbing on school nights, blackmailed the deputy head and almost got arrested on a school trip to Germany so total mayhem isn't that novel). She is just a bit gobby and often rather disinterested in lessons which doesn't always go down too well.
When I first came onto 'the scene' I also introduced myself as Rebecca at Hades and a couple of other club nights before deciding that I might as well use my real name. So Rebecca was an obvious identity for this blog when it started.
Rebecca also occasionally comes out to play as a medieval inn keepers daughter who gets horribly abused by the Lord of the Manor (and loves every minute of it whilst struggling and kicking up a great fuss).
Cassie Abbotts:
For those that used to read Lowewood Academy Cassie was my blog character. Cassie came about because when I auditioned for the blog I didn't want people (many of the writers were already friends) to know that it was me and so created another name. Cassie as a character was also different to Rebecca in many ways. Whilst as school days we can't all be extreme all the time in the blog you needed quite distinctive character traits. In many ways Cassie is closer to me as a person than Rebecca - writing about things you understand and places you've been is easier and produces more realistic scenarios and so it wasn't incidental that Cassie had some of the adventures that she did. Writing Cassie was a lot of fun but she was primarily a fictional character, although I have played as her on occasion and it's fun as she takes few prisoners. The problem being by the time she emerged Rebecca had already slotted into school days and made friends I felt it would be odd to suddenly play someone else.
Tessie Blackmore:
Tessie is my main reformatory character and one of my favourite characters to play. Tessie hates authority but is half accepting of the reformatory and just wants to get it over and done with. Tessie is the leader of a gang of thieves and urchins and got dobbed in by a rival, who she will probably kick the sh*t out of upon escaping the reformatory. In a later play she had attempted to hijack a ship in order to go and find her father who was deported when she was four. The hijack was a great success but unfortunately her gang made better pirates than sailors! Tessie is bright but uneducated and has no interest in a 'straight' occupation. Attempting to run away, stoicism and generally wrecking havoc are Tessie's favourite past times.
Lady Henrietta:
Aka Hetta was my first regency character. Henrietta was born in America and educated at one of the first female universities so is extremely outspoken. Until her parents died she was unaware that she was in fact the grand daughter of the Earl of Charnwood. Following his son's death he recalled her to England (and was somewhat shocked that she travelled there via Paris and Rome) but was horrified to discover that she was fiercely independent, managing her parents business and not the gentle manipulable flower that he had hoped for. Hetta is fun but the period correct women's lib can be quite challenging. One of her finest moments was possibly wrestling a gun from the hands of an intruder. Surprisingly Henrietta does enjoy needlework!
Dorothea:
Is my new, somewhat more mellow regency character for this year. Sweeter and more mellow and being educated by the formidable Miss Anstruthers, her full profile is here
Millie Blackstock:
Millie was a factory girl character that I created for a play with Jessica in which we were threatening a strike unless we got better working conditions. Millie and her counterpart unfortunately created a bit of a stalemate with the overseer in that they were mostly right...
Molly Cranleigh:
Was my new reformatory character, an eighteen year old who attempted to stow away on a ship in order to avoid marriage to the baker's son. Her father owned a general shop. Molly was quite nervous in the reformatory and ended up pretty much agreeing to work at her fellow inmate's 'lodging house' in order to earn her passage to New York.
Sophia:
Was a harem girl character who was not generally too keen on being in a harem so a bit of a handful (not that being a bit of a handful is characteristic of me at play at all...)
Posie Locke:
Posie came into being with an ex-boyfriend who wanted to try a play in which I was a bit younger (I don't really go younger than 16) and so Posie was 12 and a 40s girl and very sweet and shy. It was quite fun but as ageplay isn't a big thing for me isn't a character that I've really explored.
You see it's very difficult because when you create a character the name has to 'feel' right and I'm begining to run out of names...
Monday, 31 August 2009
Minxyness
It has been a bit of a playtastic weekend (she says with a smile). On Friday evening the boy interest and some other friends of ours went to the London Munch. I was wearing a very short skirt, though not the shortest one I own. To prove that it was short Jessica and the boy interest started slapping the fronts of my thighs in the busy pub and this somehow morphed into a competition to see who could leave the best handprint. Sadly they were both trounced by another good friend, Lady Emma who won 'hands down' with this rather impressive print!
Things went downhill from there (or uphill in the case of my skirt). An acquaintance of Jessica's 
then proceeded to beat me across the bottom with his walking stick, though thankfully not very hard. He then commented on the marks on my thighs and the boy interest chivalrously demanded that I give him some 'fresh flesh'. This led to me standing blushing furiously in the pub as the random man ordered me to spread my thighs and then smacked the insides really hard. Then the boy interest smacked me again for good measure. The marks are rather impressive - lots of fingerprints. Let's hope they're gone by the time I go on holiday next week!
then proceeded to beat me across the bottom with his walking stick, though thankfully not very hard. He then commented on the marks on my thighs and the boy interest chivalrously demanded that I give him some 'fresh flesh'. This led to me standing blushing furiously in the pub as the random man ordered me to spread my thighs and then smacked the insides really hard. Then the boy interest smacked me again for good measure. The marks are rather impressive - lots of fingerprints. Let's hope they're gone by the time I go on holiday next week!The boy interest and I staggered home (this was accompanied by much moaning over sore feet from me) and were very pleased that my school skirt had arrived. I tried it on and he spanked me pretty hard, I think this may have been for being a bit late for dinner but don't actually remember (ahem!). The skirt is very cute though. Then we cuddled up and did some other things, all a good start to my much needed three day weekend. More about the rest of the weekend later...
Wednesday, 26 August 2009
Reaffirmation
I have noted a 'positive' for the feeling more grown-up, namely that it's bought back some of the self-confidence that has suffered a bit during a nightmare couple of years. That in turn has me racing after life's technicolour goodness and the training for the half-marathon has taken a huge leap forward. Suddenly I don't just want food, I want good food. I don't just want to exercise I want to go through the pain barrier and send my heart rate skyrocketing into the 200s and I don't want that to somewhat reluctantly match my training plan - I want to do it every day. I don't just want to go out, I want to see and do new exciting things. I want life's brightest and boldest colours right now.
So that's the vanilla side - I have bored you all a lot recently with oodles of vanilla ice cream and a bit of kinky coulis, largely because I don't really have two personas - I'm me and different aspects come out at different times. Part of the reason that I wanted to start a blog was to create a record of how it all comes together and what I'm thinking and feeling at the time, and to give myself a platform for some of my pervy fiction (which I'm being a bit shy about right now). Therefore if what I'm thinking about is mostly vanilla that's what you'll get I'm afraid...but I do promise you some splendid filth soon - I've just been a bit preoccupied with not getting shot.
AAaannyway, there are all these cravings for the afore mentioned vanilla things - athletic masochism (which will always be a favourite flavour of mine), good food, music, theatre, quality time with friends, walks in pretty places with trees and flowers. Thankfully my kinky motor has gone into hyperdrive too, which has resulted in far too much time spent looking for new school uniform and corsets. Exciting news for all girls - Tammy now do a 'gorgeously generous' range which has the same heights but bigger hips and waists - apparently I'm the equivalent of a generous 12/13yr old (hurrah!). New school skirt alert! I suppose at least one good thing has come out of kids getting bigger.
My play cravings are also returning. The boy interest and I played last weekend and he was giving me a 'jokey' punishment that he actually intended for me to enjoy as a bit of a 'welcome home'. Some yummy play followed and he finished with the cane and I kept being like 'no it's ok, you can hit me harder than that and I'll still like it' which was quite funny. I had some pretty stripes. I am also having the urge to be a bit experimental and explore things that I've been curious about but not engaged with in the past - more rope work, needles and some more head-fuckery seem particularly appealing. I also quite want to do some heavier scenes and push myself because I feel a bit safer about potentially allowing people to break me a little bit, which is something that can be very powerful, very hot but also quite intimidating. So feeling more Rebecca like in general helps with knowing that underneath I'm grounded and will find it hot afterwards, something which isn't always the case when you're feeling a bit down.
Basically I want rainbow colours right now :)
So that's the vanilla side - I have bored you all a lot recently with oodles of vanilla ice cream and a bit of kinky coulis, largely because I don't really have two personas - I'm me and different aspects come out at different times. Part of the reason that I wanted to start a blog was to create a record of how it all comes together and what I'm thinking and feeling at the time, and to give myself a platform for some of my pervy fiction (which I'm being a bit shy about right now). Therefore if what I'm thinking about is mostly vanilla that's what you'll get I'm afraid...but I do promise you some splendid filth soon - I've just been a bit preoccupied with not getting shot.
AAaannyway, there are all these cravings for the afore mentioned vanilla things - athletic masochism (which will always be a favourite flavour of mine), good food, music, theatre, quality time with friends, walks in pretty places with trees and flowers. Thankfully my kinky motor has gone into hyperdrive too, which has resulted in far too much time spent looking for new school uniform and corsets. Exciting news for all girls - Tammy now do a 'gorgeously generous' range which has the same heights but bigger hips and waists - apparently I'm the equivalent of a generous 12/13yr old (hurrah!). New school skirt alert! I suppose at least one good thing has come out of kids getting bigger.
My play cravings are also returning. The boy interest and I played last weekend and he was giving me a 'jokey' punishment that he actually intended for me to enjoy as a bit of a 'welcome home'. Some yummy play followed and he finished with the cane and I kept being like 'no it's ok, you can hit me harder than that and I'll still like it' which was quite funny. I had some pretty stripes. I am also having the urge to be a bit experimental and explore things that I've been curious about but not engaged with in the past - more rope work, needles and some more head-fuckery seem particularly appealing. I also quite want to do some heavier scenes and push myself because I feel a bit safer about potentially allowing people to break me a little bit, which is something that can be very powerful, very hot but also quite intimidating. So feeling more Rebecca like in general helps with knowing that underneath I'm grounded and will find it hot afterwards, something which isn't always the case when you're feeling a bit down.
Basically I want rainbow colours right now :)
Sunday, 23 August 2009
When I grew up
It's been a funny couple of months - not so much a storm as seemingly living in the middle of a tornado. A new job, which finally is worthwhile and has real purpose but has seen me take in four countries in the last five weeks and dumped me back down feeling washed out, if ultimately pleased. Throw in a few scary situations - a shooting outside the hotel, machine guns on every street corner, dodgy people and coping with the culture shock and jet lag of doing London and back several times and I'm a little bit broken.
It also feels like suddenly I've grown up a lot almost over night. It was when running that night in the gym that the realisation hit me. I felt pretty angry but stood my ground and did my session, staring myself down in the mirror facing the treadmill. I've watched myself sweat my way through numerous sports sessions over the years but this felt quite weird and a bit like I didn't know the girl staring back at me so well any more. Somehow, somewhere she'd grown up and it's a bit scary. I'm finally doing what I've always wanted to do and making a difference, and when those two little girls got on the treadmills and started running when I'd finished I felt proud, even if their father did make them stop. I don't think I quite bargained that it would all make me feel older though and am feeling a little bit sad.
I think I shall have to take it an excuse to plot lots of fun and mischief and debauchery though - to just let go...
It also feels like suddenly I've grown up a lot almost over night. It was when running that night in the gym that the realisation hit me. I felt pretty angry but stood my ground and did my session, staring myself down in the mirror facing the treadmill. I've watched myself sweat my way through numerous sports sessions over the years but this felt quite weird and a bit like I didn't know the girl staring back at me so well any more. Somehow, somewhere she'd grown up and it's a bit scary. I'm finally doing what I've always wanted to do and making a difference, and when those two little girls got on the treadmills and started running when I'd finished I felt proud, even if their father did make them stop. I don't think I quite bargained that it would all make me feel older though and am feeling a little bit sad.
I think I shall have to take it an excuse to plot lots of fun and mischief and debauchery though - to just let go...
Saturday, 22 August 2009
Bad Rebecca...
Between travelling with work and attempting to recover I have not had time to post but fear not people I have not been shot, kidnapped or sold into white slavery (phew!). In the meantime if you haven't seen it go and book tickets for Avenue Q immediately - the most brilliant, funny and true show I have seen in a while. The boy interest and I went on Friday and I want to go again.
After all...
The internet is FOR PORN...
I wish I could go back to college...
Everyone's a little bit unsatisfied...
YEAH!
After all...
The internet is FOR PORN...
I wish I could go back to college...
Everyone's a little bit unsatisfied...
YEAH!
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