Wednesday, 20 August 2014

There Are Worse Things Than a Caning, Dear!

“Now, dear; some ground rules:  This is not a NORMAL hospital; this is a mental hospital.  And you are here because you are a mental patient – it’s as simple as that.  I don’t want to hear any of that blathering about how you are ‘normal’, how you’ve been put in here because someone wants you out of the way…  because if that’s the case, they’ve very much succeeded.  This place is very much ‘out of the way’.  No, as far as I’m concerned, if you’ve been placed in here it is because you, girl, are a mental patient; end of story! 

Nobody wants to listen to the ramblings of a mental case, nobody will take a blind bit of notice of anything you say, so you might as well get that in your head right away.  You will not speak unless spoken to, and you will do so only in a whisper.  You will address me as Matron and you will do EXACTLY what I tell you; immediately and without argument.  And you can start by learning how to stand properly; a mental patient does NOT make eye contact with ANYONE…  EVER.  You make eye contact with ME, girl, and you’ll taste my cane across your backside…  Oh yes!  Don’t look so shocked.  I’m fully authorised to use corporal punishment if that is what it takes to tame you!  And I’ve already warned you about eye contact; on the rare occasions you’re allowed out of bed and I speak to you, you will look down at your feet, keep your head slightly bowed at all times. 

I will have no defiance; you will learn to submit to my authority to an extent and in ways you can’t even imagine…  Ok let’s have you bend and touch your toes;  I’m going to give you your first introduction to institutional corporal punishment… And before you think about refusing, think about THIS:  One word from me, one bad report or recommendation, and you could well find yourself going down the path to having a lobotomy carried out.  How do you think you will feel then – not just a mental patient but a LOBOTOMISED mental patient? ”

Tuesday, 19 August 2014


Hi Chaps and chapesses!  Another of those jolly little pictures that jump-starts the little grey cells.  And they really DO need jump-starting at present!  Of course it alludes in some way to the latest outpourings I have been working on, but whether that particular project will come to fruition is another matter.  

I have several part-finished projects on my hard drives, and usually it is because I have just lost interest or taken a dive into depression and not resurfaced until the original concept has sort of gone out of focus; with the way I work momentum is everything, and as it is I am also working closely with Roger Benson on an art project of his which means there are already breaks in my productivity.  The latter is not helped by the fact that my home Internet connection has been clobbered by a bad phone line (noisy, crackling - it has been raining!), is running BELOW the old-style dial-up speed and I'm dealing with 4-5+ Mb files with Roger's drawings which means I'm having to go the pub to receive new work from him at upload the finished product (which in turn means I have been drinking FAR to much, which is not a good thing).  But none of this is what is REALLY putting the kibosh on my writing projects.  

What is really getting under my skin is my having discovered my stuff being offered  free, gratis and for nothing on some sort of file sharing site!!!  Now, I make precious little out of this lark as it is - but I DO like to think I make SOMETHING out of it... 

Sorry I've not got back to you, Non-Victorian Chick.  I will do - very soon, maybe even today if I don't get TOO pissed, I promise (inebriated, not necessarily angry - although I might well manage both!).

Friday, 8 August 2014

She Runs a Tight Ship

Outside it's 3 o'clock in the afternoon, the scorching early-July sun is still high in the sky - it wont get dark 'till nearly 10PM. The Saturday afternoon shoppers buzz like bees around the stalls in the market place in front of The Corn Exchange, holidaymakers lounge beneath red and white umbrellas outside picturesque pubs lazily supping cider, ales and wine. Incensed, the locals steam behind the steering-wheels of their cars bemoaning the permanent near-gridlocked tailback snaking back and forth through the narrow streets from one end of the market town to the other - a constant carnival parade of tourists; horns sound, angry remarks rend the air, a police siren screams irritatedly. And all this against the background of the constant rumble of the motorway which was built far too close to the edge of the chocolate-box hamlet.

In here, on HER ward, all is deathly quiet, only the tap, tap, tap of her heels on the lino and the hollow, resonant tock, tock, tock of the wall clock she had installed - the time it gives is what SHE calls 'hospital time'; it has nothing to do with the world at large; 'bedtime' here is when SHE says it is, when the 'night bell' rings, a healthy dose of sedetives and sleeping pills helping to ensure sleep comes quickly. The routine has little to do with circadian rhythms and much more to do with staffing levels and shift patterns.

All is neat and tidy and stripped of anything and everything not ENTIRELY essential to the care of 'difficult' girl's in their late teens to early twenties. Thus there are six caged beds with six plastic chairs, one alongside each, and six enamel bedpans, one perched on each chair. There is a desk and chair at one end forming the nurse's station - and that's about it. There IS ONE other thing present - on a hook on the wall behind the nurse's station hangs a slender, wickedly pliant crook-handled cane. Under HER influence corporal punishment has been introduced - they've given her a free hand, so why not? Glancing up at the clock, presently showing ten thirty, she smiles to herself. She knows that strident, insistent ticking is driving certain of the girls to distraction, but if that encourages certain individuals to accept the medication she is keen to introduce, so be it

Tuesday, 5 August 2014

SILENCE IS GOLDEN – OR: AN ORTHODONTIC INTERVENTION (with apologies to the original artist)

 Yes, silence was indeed golden as far as Julia's guardian was concerned, and where the strap and the cane might have failed in enforcing her strict no-talking rule...

Well, once her young, headstrong, ward, Julia, discovered she was now saddled with a pronounced lisp and was barely coherent she felt sure things were going to change – and when she looked in the mirror! One way or another she was going to get her own way with the girl. Career on the stage? Ha! She'd see about THAT!

(A scenario inspired by an event alluded to in one of my books)
In case any of you had been wondering as to my absence of late, I have been on holiday in Sardinia (where it bloody well rained on three days, I experienced gale force winds and I suffered from a chest infectiion for the first four day!!!). But  I'm back now and normal service will soon be resumed, which includes a new addition to the 'The Original Institute / Beyond The Barred Window' website which I have neglected for a long tme now (far TOO long).  Today and tomorrow I shall be working on some artwork for the spanking arist Roger Benson but I also hope to be adding to a new work I started on while away, a kidnap / hostage taking story which is intended to be a little more mainstream than my previous stuff, although rest assured that there will still be spanking, discipline and much mental anguish.  Some of the themes I have been hinting at for some time now and there will continue to be teasers from time to time published here...  SO WATCH THIS SPACE!!!

Friday, 20 June 2014

A Girl, a Uniformed Nurse and a Slippering - and Perhaps a Whole Lot More: You Decide!

The juxtaposition of a strict, no nonsense uniformed nurse with what appears to be a domestic environment is a compelling image I always think, an image in this case which could easily have come straight from the pages of a new book I'm working on:

“No, I’m NOT joking, young lady!  If you take in to account the early bedtime I’ve introduced, that we have this rule you stay in bed until I come to get you and you have your afternoon nap time, it hardly seems worthyou getting dressed.  So get those things off – and get back in your pyjamas.  THIS INSTANT!  And not those old ones you’ve been wearing either – those new ones I brought you a couple of days ago from that place I used to work in.  Yes, I’m sure they ARE embarrassing, or they would be if anyone else saw you in them.  But no one else IS going to see you in them, are they?  You’re not going anywhere. 

I’ve told you before; now that I run this household, things have changed; I’M in charge.  There’s no more gallivanting around the shops and arcades, no more mixing with friends, talking to boys – no going out; period!  No - you stay in nowadays.  Ok, up until now we’ve had our little walks in the garden – so long as you hold my hand – but I’m going to put a stop to that as well; too much sun is bad for the complexion you know.  In fact from now on I don’t even want you going downstairs any longer; I’m going to keep you hidden away up here, on the top floor, when people come.   You’re an embarrassment!  And you’ll embarrass yourself if you come swanning down wearing those new pyjamas I got you.  But you’re not GOING to come swanning down, are you?  No you’re not – because you’re going to be sitting quietly in your room writing lines at your desk or kneeling facing the corner with your hands on your head when people come.  I’M the only person you should be thinking about nowadays – how to please ME.  And the best way you can please me right now is by getting those pyjamas on. 

As I said; there seems little point in you getting dressed nowadays…  So I’ve decided from now on it’s going to be pyjamas all day, every day.  The rest of your stuff can go to the charity shop to join all those things I took off you when I first arrived, all those ridiculous ‘designer’ frocks and fripperies you’d been allowed  to get away wearing, the makeup, the hair ‘products’ and sprays.  I expect you’ll be glad to see the back of that school uniform I’ve had you wearing day in day out – but I think I’m going to have to BURN that; I can’t imagine there being much call for something like that in such a large size… 

No, no – slip the knickers on first; they go with the outfit... And fasten the top button of the jacket for heaven’s sake – the jacket is supposed to button high, so it has a peter pan collar; it gives it a little femininity; it’d look like you’re wearing a rather ugly set of men’s pyjamas otherwise…  Yes, I KNOW there is a badge embroidered on the breast pocket, that’s the name of the place where I used to work - and the word under it, that’s just a clinical term, applied to the woman who last wore those pyjamas; it just lets the staff know not to listen to a SINGLE thing the woman says, that she talks nonsense, rambles… Just like you do dear, when you talk about going to university, meeting a boy, getting married and all that – oh no, no ,no you’re not; you’re staying right here!  So I thought it rather apt…

Smelly?  The pyjamas?  Well… I suppose they are – a bit.  That woman I told you about got a new pair - they’re changing the style apparently - that’s why you got these; I don’t expect they got sent to the laundry before they got thrown out…  The knickers are fresh though – brand new… Stop all that fussing and get them on – that’s NOT rubber on the inside, it’s medical grade PVC, polythene if you will, quite soft and comfortable; the outside is nylon; the waistband is so stiff because there is a spring steel band running through it with a little clasp and loop arrangement poking out through the fabric at the rear where I can slip a neat little padlock, make sure you’re all locked away snugly with no ‘tampering’ allowed. 

Yes, I’ll unlock it if you need the toilet – if you ask nicely – but you know the house rules by now; I have to watch; I’m not having you using it as an excuse to play with yourself;  you KNOW I don’t allow masturbation.  If you want THAT kind of relief I’ll do it for you!  All you have to do is come ask me nicely, drape yourself across my lap, part your legs – and I’ll bring you off in no time with my fingers; I’ll have you squirming across my lap in minutes, reduced to a sobbing puddle of sweat and gibbering like the imbecile it says you are on that badge. 

And once we’ve broken through THAT barrier you’ll find you’ll be coming begging… BEGGING… for me to bring you off that way again and again and again.  I can make it VERY addictive for you  And then…  And THEN… we’ll have to see if we can’t teach you to do a few things for ME!  Oh, I beg to differ – I think you’ll find you WILL, you know. 

Now come and lay yourself across my lap – I’m going to give you a good hard slippering to break you in wearing your new pyjamas:  And I’m just wondering whether I need to shave you again ‘down there’ – yes, I think I’ll fetch the bowl, soap and razor afterwards.