Wednesday, 6 May 2009
A New and Intriguing Story to Check Out
Sunday, 3 May 2009
A New Art Link (Bondage) by Coco & a Little Bit of Stranger than Fiction Inspiration
Hi folks; Its a so called 'Bank Holiday' here in the UK which basically means a few folk get Monday off of work (those lucky enough to still have jobs that is - unlike yours truly). It used to mean practically every one got the day off but nowadays a lot of folk still have to work - just as they now do on Sundays and every other day of the week (and year, before long, I'd wager!). Mind you; if that means the pubs are kept open, then I'm all for it! (but pubs are going down like flies too - crushed beneath the heel of the credit crunch). I was hoping to go to an antiques fair at Alexandra Palace today, but got dragged instead to help run a stool at a car-boot sale in Hertfordshire - a sort of casually arranged bric-a-brac sale usually held in a field wherein folk sell their old junk brought in their car's boot (automobile trunk - for all you State-side people). Now I'm back to the final stages of proofreading, while still considering whether to split volume 2 into two books - and if so - how much extra work, and thus time, that would entail. If I can do so, sensibly, inside one week, then I may still do so - as long as the split ends the first and begins the second part in a sensible way; and a way that makes the story enjoyable to follow on without confusion.
Meanwhile; I have just been sent a new link (for which, much gratitude) to the excelent bondage art of Coco (click on artwork above or on the title highlighted in blue to link - or check out the sidebar resource list over on the right). And on the subject of 'truth stranger than fiction' (and something that should come as a source of inspiration for 'Judith's Aunt' - a contributor from a while ago now and from whom we have heard little of late...hint, hint... as regards the disciplining of her niece) no sooner did I add a little descriptive work to a section of volume 2 dealing with a form of shame-dress discipline (you will see what I mean if and when you read it) then I came across the following text...And I thought I was being so imaginative!
"We sometimes wore itchy woollen combinations, which were really uncomfortable, with sleeves down to the wrist, and our Liberty bodices were fastened with buttons to our knickers, so that meant unfastening them every time we went to the lavatory! On top of the petticoats we wore cotton frocks in summer, or kilts in winter, and sometimes these long shapeless jersey dresses. I had a navy coloured reefer coat and we had to wear laced ankle boots because my mother believed they helped to strengthen the ankle. But my older sister made such a fuss about them, we stopped wearing them in the end. I had a straw hat for summer and a velour winter hat." "Many young teenage girls were still [kept in] corsets [then]: "[That] was before roll-ons and corselets became popular, and [teenage girls had corsets that hooked up at the side. We wore two pairs of knickers, with navy blue bloomers on the outside and a white cotton 'liner' on the inside and at school we wore a black alpaca tabard pinafore over our uniform dress. We had house shoes for indoors, and lace-up shoes outdoors and on Sunday we wore patent leather house shoes. {A tabard seems an interesting idea - lots of possibilities there! But I'm not sure about alpaca, though - Garth}
"At home we wore these ghastly knitted dresses, they were absolute horrors with a belt threaded through round the hips, just where we were fattest, at a time when we were at our least shapely anyway. These dresses were knitted for us by somebody, and they had absolutely no shape whatsoever, and we hated them." Quoted and adapted from http://www.aohg.org.uk/twww/clothes1.html).
Thursday, 30 April 2009
Dietary Discipline & Harassment Therapy: A Reader's Account (Part 4) - Of Nappies, Leg Braces and Psychological Bondage
I have to admit to having spent far too long overthe last couple of days investigating the selection of real ales on sale in various London branches of that marvellous pub chain, Wetherspoon's (they have had a 'beer festival 'running since the beginning of April with 50 different ales on sale of which I've been attempting to sample as many as possible). That I am back at the desk finishing off a little work on volume 2 and fiddling around with the text of volume 3 – I've also managed to enlist the much welcomed aid of an e-mail correspondent chum in proofreading volume 2 so all is rushing ahead nicely now. As you can imagine am a little to push the time to write anything much myself today so I thought I would just post the concluding part of the account of sent in by a correspondent regarding her time in a mental hospital. As you probably remember from last time; this takes the form of a series of questions posed by e-maile, by yours truly, along with the anonymous correspondent's responses and so has something of the tone of an interview. With the exception of the use of nappies (diapers) the parallels with the happenings portrayed in INSTITUTIONALISED volume 1 and the treatment meted out to our hapless young volunteers under the guise of an experimental psychology study is remarkable. Along with the accounts that one comes across out there on the Web of life in those wonderful church run institutions, Ireland's industrial schools, with their strict cane or strap wielding nuns, and equally strict dowdy uniforms (is just so much mileage there for the writing of fiction, with a little imagination) and those highly dubious and of the unethical psychology studies carried out in past times; it all goes to show that truth really is stranger than fiction. Click here for part 3 ... here for part 2... and here for part 1... And here to read the original letter that started the ball rolling. Now, as they say, read on:
“In the average small hospital ward (and I imagine the ward you were confined to would have been quite compact) there are usually only one or two (if that) toilet cubicles. A weird subject I know but one with many disciplinary connotations, particularly under the circumstances you describe, as once in a cubicle the patient could be out of sight for example and might choose to regurgitate an unpleasant meal. And bearing in mind the regimentation of the dietary procedures you describe one can't help wondering whether such toilet visits were regimented in any way (I make mention in volumes 1 and two of my book of bedpan use, both for convenience and for ' medical ' reasons - to allow for easy monitoring of waste output, shall we say (humiliating for the patient, I know, but perhaps necessary).”
“The hospital must have been built in the late 1800's and while it did have running water and electricity (would these mod-cons have had to be added after it was built I wonder) nobody had thought to include toilets - unless the staff had access to toilets somewhere within their private domains. But I certainly never saw a toilet. We used pots that were kept under our beds and we were expected to use them when we got up and when we went to bed. The dormitories were kept locked during the day, but we would be taken, in small groups, to use our pots once during the day, usually after the (nominally) midday meal. I know for a fact that great attention was paid to our output - there were charts of volume, weight, colour and consistency and any irregularity would be treated with laxatives, enemas, dietary changes and punishment.It only took an increase in liquid intake and the withholding of potty privileges once or twice and a girl was bound to be found standing in a puddle of her own making in the dayroom or she would wake up with a wet bed.
Such events, whether deliberately induced, entirely accidental, or just written up on paper, were the usual precursor to the loss of potty privileges (called toilet privileges) altogether. That meant having to wear nappies - at least during the day and maybe at night too. If you were one of the retarded girls they might be regular nappies, but those of us who were deemed to 'know better', or be aware of our 'actions', were often made to wear punishment nappies... (the pictures, I think, evoke quite nicely the sort of thing that would be considered suitable garb for such a patient once ensconced in the experimental psychology department, deep within the secure wing of the institution I depict - Garth).
The basic punishment nappy was comprised of large thick nappy pads made from old sheets quilted together - and might have canvas or hessian liners that were incredibly abrasive and itchy. They would [on ocasion] be fastened on already soaking wet. After all, the nurses were [often] heard to say, “why bother drying them when a little shit like you is just going to pee in them”. And then to stop them sagging we had to wear a panty-girdle like garment - but made from stronger elastic than any panty girdle I have ever seen and with laces up the back. Big thick brown rubber bloomers finished off the arrangement - unless you had to wear another lighter 'panty girdle' over the rubber pants. Believe me, you could do little more than waddle by the time they were done with you. And it wasn't long before the urine, and whatever else that overflowed from the nappy. would pool in the bloomer legs. There were times that I was put into punishment nappies - and only ever escaped when the rash became so bad that I had to be allowed out - though there was no guarantee that you wouldn't go right back in them as soon as the rash improved.It was on one of the occasions when I was consigned to punishment nappies that I was taken down to the brace shop to have a crotch plate made. The design is a little hard to explain. Firstly my body brace was modified and the waist was reduced even further - making me look more like a wasp than a girl. Then a narrow and most uncomfortable strap was attached to the back of my body brace and passed between my legs and tightly buckled to the front of my body brace. Then a wide rigid plate was made, rubber covered steel I think, and that was similarly attached, by multiple straps, to the back and front of my body brace. By the time all the straps were pulled as tight as the nurses could manage (the narrow understrap could still be tightened after the crotch plate was attached because the crotch plate did not cover the buckle) I was barely able to walk, for the crotch place was about 5 inches wide at its narrowest, and unless I moved very gingerly it would leave me with wheals where it rubbed against my thighs - even through the rubber bloomers, 'panty-girdle', and layers of nappy. Believe me - the panty girdles were very unpleasant, the way they held the sodden nappies in constant contact with your crotch, but the crotch plate was many times worse. Not that I escaped that - I still had to wear a panty girdle, both under and over the rubber bloomers.
If you were unlucky enough to be moved to the 'dirty dormitory' then your nappies were usually only changed at bedtime each day. Your dirty nappy and liner were removed and replaced with a 'clean', but still urine soaked, nappy and liner. The dirty nappy was [sometimes] not placed in the nappy bucket until the next morning.We deviants had our own dormitory, and normally we would never be moved to another - they didn't want any chance of our corrupting the other girls - but the 'dirty dormitory' was an exception - we could be transferred there, and often were.
But punishment nappies were not usually the first disciplinary measure, of that type, a new girl would encounter. They would usually work up to it. My own first experience was when I came back from the bathroom, shivering from a long cold bath. On this occasion I was not wearing a jacket - though often we would wear our jackets in the bath - and as I stood next to 'my' bed the nurse pulled down the cover, and the rubber sheet below it, to reveal the bed made up with urine soaked, sheets and pillowcases - obviously sopping wet, not just damp. It was a very unpleasant experience indeed, though it became even more unpleasant when I was instructed to remove my nightgown and take the gown from beneath the pillow and put it on. Besides being wet and very cold, it too, was saturated in urine. Getting into it was no easy task because the material would keep sticking to itself and the nurse had to help me, much to her annoyance. When told to get into the bed I soon found that the indentation I made rapidly filled with cold urine. It was only an introduction, but that night, and the following nights pent in that bed were very unpleasant”.
"Yes, I was always kept in a locked ward and would have had to pass through a large number of locked doors to get out. The windows in the dayroom were beyond the line that demarked where we could go so I could not see very much out of them, but on a couple of occasions I was able to sneak a look. On at least one of those occasions I could see patients being taken for a walk outside - but I was never afforded that privilege. We were high up - the 3rd floor I'd guess and the windows were barred, so there was not much chance of getting out that way.The only times I ever left my ward, where I ate, slept, performed my ablutions, and recreated, was to visit my therapist, the therapy room, or the brace shop - and on all such occasions I was securely fastened into a wheelchair that had a top similar to a pram that could be pulled up, and in my case, pulled down, so that I could see nothing of my surroundings as I was moved between locations.
But I could usually still hear what was going on and it was clear that the nurses from my ward were not able to open many of the doors themselves - they were dependent upon getting assistance from others who would only do so if they recognized 'my' nurse. In fact when there was a new nurse on my ward she would have to leave the ward with one of the old-time nurses in order to be introduced to and later recognized by these 'gatekeeper' nurses.
So stealing keys would not have taken me very far. Besides, escape attempts were punished. One girl was already in a full bodycast for attempting to leave the ward when I arrived and she spent another 2 or 3 months in it before she was released. After that she wore heavy leg callipers (click to view pic on Eric Kroll's site) and only moved around with great difficulty. I don't know if the callipers were necessary because she had lost muscle strength or whether they were just an additional punishment or precaution against any future escape attempt. If it was punishment, she wouldn't have been the only girl punished in that way - there were several girls wearing leg braces and other orthopaedic devices that were made for them in the brace shop as punishment for some infraction or other.
I suppose I could have tried asking if I could go out for a walk, but I knew the answer would be no. And the nurses on the ward did not encourage questions (my oft gagged state bore silent witness to that) and we soon learnt that asking questions would lead to punishment. Equally my therapist did not welcome questions, and even in my sessions I was usually gagged. She would say that she had no interest in my opinions, or my lies, only in the measurable results of my treatment. She said that nodding yes or no when she asked a question was quite sufficient. Of course as you might imagine, not being able to ask questions, or even try to clarify what she meant by a statement or question, and not be able to give a more complex answer than yes or no was incredibly frustrating, and I would often leave those sessions screaming to myself from frustration and the feeling that I had been manipulated into nodding yes or no to something I didn't really agree to. For instance I might have to answer yes or no to a general question and then she would assume that I had said yes or no to a much more specific question - one that I would have answered differently had the more specific question been asked.
The only book we deviants were allowed to read was the bible and I had little interest in it or religion. The closest I came to 'education' was writing assignments where I had to copy out tracts from the bible - often the same tract every day for a month. I wasn't very keen on the extended prayers we had to say before bed - which was just one reason I sometimes found myself strapped to the climbing bars the next day. I have no idea why the dayroom would have climbing bars in it - maybe in the original hospital design (I'm sure it was designed as a mental hospital) it was a gymnasium - or perhaps the architect thought climbing bars in the dayroom would be a good idea - but whatever the reason they were there - but no longer used for their original purpose. Now they were a useful place to 'plant' troublesome patients. I often found myself being 'planted' there for the day. I would have to kneel facing them while I was securely strapped to them - with nothing to look at besides the wall behind them, and then my lower legs would be folded up behind me and strapped there so that I was left kneeling on my knees all day.For the girls on regular diets, being restrained somewhere for the day meant that you would miss a meal or two - meals that were sorely missed judging by their reactions. But for anybody on a 'special' diet, their meals would be saved for them and they would have to eat any missed meals the next day. After a two-day fast, or longer, the 'extra' food might take a couple of days to consume.
"The possibility of the nurses manipulating the results of the tests is a particularly interest aspect; along with denial being virtually taken as symptom and backed up by results guaranteed to prove the point and assuming that the length of stay is dependent on a cure (of a condition not present in the first place) it must have been quite difficult to get out once admitted in one can't wonder whether one or two inmates (for want of a better term) may simply been admitted as a matter of convenience (or even amusement perhaps) to some one or other.""Well, for me it proved impossible until the program was ended - and even then it was difficult. As for people being admitted as a matter of convenience, you might almost consider me one. Of course there is almost always an excuse - or at least a veneer of an excuse - but when you scratch it you often find there is nothing really there. There is no doubt that people were committed for the most trivial reasons - you only have to read the newspapers from the years when the hospitals were being closed to find long lists of people that had been committed for 'being at risk' (aka too pretty) or difficult (didn't get on with new stepmother). The lists went on and on. And it's probably only because the hospitals have closed down that people are no longer being committed for trivial reasons and as a matter of convenience. Of course there are other avenues available nowadays. There are plenty of 'schools' and 'programs' available for 'troubled' teens in far-flung corners of the world, where the authorities cannot intervene. And some of them sound little better than my program. Well, ok, they do sound a bit better than that. "
Tuesday, 28 April 2009
A Site to Vistit and Some (Adult) School Uniform Musings
I was particularly taken with this blouse, or more to the point the detail piping around the arms and collar - the latter, although a little thing, adds markedly to that critical 'uniform' feel. In its present form I imagine it as a jumping off point, in the early stages of the imposition of a new disciplinary regime, perhaps introduced in the early summer so that the coming of winter provides excuse for stricter dress restrictions, the young lady having by that time become somewhat acclimatised to the idea of having to wear a school uniform about the place. The next couple of steps or so I have to confess I haven't yet stumbled upon commercially and at present seem to exist only in my imagination - although with a good seamstress under one's wing implementation would be simple enough. First would be the provision of a long-sleeved version, then it being worn with a proper striped school tie of a suitable colour. Then would come a modification to the collar, it would button higher, be stiffened and starched, have a wider spread.
Similarly, where possible, the skirt, gymslip (jumper, if you will) or dress should conform as closely as possible to her curves while incorporating all those deliciously childish little details that her master, mistress or governess or nurse or whatever might care to choose. The dress (or jumper) I came upon described as a 'charm school dress' - and charming it undoubtedly is. The buttoning at the front is a nice, tiresomely fiddly, little detail. But even more tiresome, and even more fiddly - almost certainly requiring assistance in dressing if properly implemented - would be to have it fastening by way of buttoning of the shoulder straps themselves, three buttons in a line across at each shoulder and positioned some three inches or so down the back. The skirt as it stands at the moment has a far too free and easy look about it and although, like the blouse, as it is it makes a starting off point for a young lady being entered into the initial stages of a strict disciplinary regime. In the later stages I would suggest that one might head in one of two directions; either the skirt should remain at knee-length, as it is in the picture, but be dramatically tailored and taken in to pencil-skirt dimensions - resulting, along with suitably
restrictive corsetry worn beneath and with her feet squeezed into tiny high heeled Victorian button-fastening ankle boots - a pleasantly feminine, if tiresome for the girl, tiny-stepped, hip-swinging gait.
There is obviously much to be said in favour in keeping the young filly bare legged, especially if short skirted - there is the benefit of the rapid access to the back of the thighs, if nothing else, for the palm of the hand or the tawse (allowing a closer psychological relationship to be formed between the behaviour to be eradicated and punishment). If under male supervision - if perhaps she is to be trained to reconsider her sexuality - then the temptation might be to say that if bare legged she might be made more vulnerable when bent across his desk or over the back of her own chair. But even if suspended over her knickers - an approach that of course requires her to have two unfasten and refasten her suspenders at each toilet visit and thus reinforces that all-important sense of being under control -it should still be possible to roll down the waistband of her knickers far enough at least to give access to her behind. If those old-fashioned back-opening 'draws', or a modern equivalent, were to be worn then it would be a simple enough task acquire intimate access to her person - whether it be to take pleasure from the plump ripe peach of her backside or more conventionally. She can simply be required to unfasten the back of those school 'draws', and bend over the back of her chair with her hands on its seat - the cane left casually lying before her eyes should she hesitate or get thought to disobedience. Once 'used' in that manner she can be sharply told to pull up and refasten tightly her knickers and retake her place at her desk - any unsightly stains arising can be washed out by hand by the girl herself later, a delightfully galling task.
The incorporation of a rubber knicker liner, of course, would take care of such considerations - but then consideration must be given to any unpleasantness arising should it be required to 'use' her subsequently throughout the day. A couple of hours or so of her sitting stickily in a combination of her sweat and result of his pent-up pleasure at her cramped desk on a hot summer's afternoon in old-fashioned full school uniform and in a stuffy little attic room made up as classroom could make for some modicum of unpleasantness the next time she is bent across the master's desk. Imagining such a uniform filled out with the burgeoning plump curves of late teenage and enforced with the threat of the cane or strap - both frequently applied in any case - one can easily imagine the effect in curbing a young lady's spirit.
Similar considerations might even apply if under female supervision. She might easily be required to stand alongside her governess's chair, with legs spread, hands on head with fingertips touching and elbows smartly out to the sides, or remain bent across her nurse's lap after the hairbrush has been liberally applied to her bare chubby buttocks while skilled and knowledgeable fingers idly toy and take intimate liberties, drawing soft sighs between heartbroken sobs, before being sent back, unfulfilled hot eyed and damp, to her little desk or to stand rubbery-legged with nose pressed to the wall, in the corner. A suitable pair of school knickers fitted with a plastic lining and absorbent pad or towel can be seen to the right - an ideal solution for both scenarios, moping up sweat and all manner of secret unspeakable messes while the humid airtight plastic environment ensures everything remains just damp enough still act as a constant humiliating reminder of her helpless exploitation.
Either way, I have no doubt that stockings would be best. Old-fashioned opera-length lyle stockings, over-warm and scratchy, in black or better still a suitable school colour such as bottle green or navy blue. And held up all round by broad elastic suspenders, short and taut and pressing into the thighs and having uncomfortable metal clips that dig into the flesh where her weight spreads across the tiny, hard, child-sized wooden school chair that she is obliged to sit upon for the majority of her day - when not corner standing, performing punishment P.E. in her skintight leotard or being drilled, marching on the spot or up and down the staircase with a heavily weighted backpack.
I happened across this picture of an overall on an auction site - at first I considered it as a starting point for a school summer dress but it would be fine in its original function, albeit if dyed to a suitable school colour - and better still if it was available with long sleeves and buttoned cuffs. The sober frumpiness of the thing and the modestly high buttoning neck would contrast nicely with rationale behind the girl's wearing of it and the intentions of her master or mistress.Getting back to my book, just for a moment: it has burgeoned to an incredible 260-odd pages. The trouble with that is; LULU, the self-publishing site that I use, charges more as the page number increases and if I am not careful the thing will end up costing too much to actually sell any copies at all. I'm not sure how many people have found the glossary helpful or even looked at it in INSTITUTIONALISED volume 1 so I am considering taking that out of volumes 2 and 3 - any opinions? I'm all so seriously considering splitting into two books - it'll take a little extra work but perhaps a week or so no more. Once again, anyone out there have any opinions? Please let me know. The next blog entry will likely be the forth and last instalment of the contributor's experiences of aversion and harassment therapy that I have been serialising...any thoughts?
Friday, 24 April 2009
Dietary Discipline, Harassment Therapy & Sexual Reorientation – A Reader’s Account Revisited (Part 3 – Walking Down the Aisle…Again & Again & Again
Click here to read part 1 (if you haven’t already) Something to keep you going while I get on with my proof reading and amending of INSTITUTIONALISED volume 2 (I had to go back to research some stuff about fabrics today, but the result was some fascinating revisions made to a certain young lady's uniform that I'm afraid can only have made it more irksome for her - we try to be kind, but its all good discipline and it is for her own good after all).Also, while your still there: If you enjoy (as I do, quite unashamedly) reading accounts of strict discipline - hands on heads with legs spread - Spartan regimes, late teen girls put back into juvenile uniforms and privileged young ladies brought down to the level of servants and made to wait on table then I can’t recommend enough a story I have just come across on The Spanked Girls Weblog::::: Gymslips & Dormitories (click title to read story or site name to go there – although, as always, it has been added to the sidebar blog list). Also take a look at Spanking Bethie Blog (click) why don't you?...and the yahoo group - Bound Brides (brides in bondage - needless to say...its where I got the bride pic).
Dietary Discipline, Harassment Therapy & Sexual Reorientation – A Reader’s Account Revisited (Part 3 – Walking Down the Aisle…Again and Again and Again)“Something else [I came across while researching the basis of my treatment] that I found very interesting was something called 'shame aversion therapy'. Apparently it is/was very closely related to chemical and electrical aversion therapy. I had always assumed that my aversion therapy only related to those physical aversives that took place in the treatment room where I was shown the slides, and that the constant ridicule, humiliation and harassment heaped upon me (and the others) while on the ward, was simple meanness and ignorance combined with a desire to control us and keep a 'tight ship'. But now I wonder if these techniques may have been used in concert with the physical therapies such as chemical and electrical. Certainly something for me to ponder and research further.
The nurses would belittle us and tell the other members of the ward how perverted we were and that God hates us and that we would be going to hell. They would make us stand on a table and recite nursery rhymes. Or makes us recite a prayer aloud for hours on end - often all day, without any break for lunch. Other times we would have to make public confessions about why we were there - our lesbianism and what that meant - and that our parents had disowned us. I had to make stuff up and it was still horrible humiliating - even though it was mostly lies. These 'confessions' usually had to be made at Sister's weekly 'gatherings' where she held up the undergarments of any girls who had failed to meet the required standards of hygiene - and it was on those occasions when even the drooling girls would receive their shares of strokes if they were deemed slovenly - or otherwise failed to meet the standards expected of them.
And there were times that we were dressed up in some costume designed to humiliate us. Not that it was always the costume that was inherently humiliating - it was the circumstances. Had it been a dress-up party, or even a regular party, it might have been ok - but being dressed up unwillingly for the sole purpose of humiliating us and amusing the nurses and other patients made me want to crawl away and die. Often it was just a party dress - albeit one better suited to a seven-year old - but I remember that one time I was dressed as a bride - not in some quick dress-up kind of way - but in a properly fitted wedding dress and veil. I was made to do circuits around the dayroom all day as the nurses told everybody who would listen that this was as close as I would come to being a bride.Oddly, some years later I saw The Clockwork Orange and didn't associate the aversion therapy with my own. Talk about repressing unpleasant memories. But now it occurs to me that in The Clockwork Orange they took care to make sure that Alex could not avert his gaze from the images on the screen - they used those funny little gadgets to hold his eyes open. Although they took care to make sure that my head was locked into position consistent with looking at the slideshow they didn't use any similar devices to keep my eyes open or make sure I wasn't averting my gaze. Of course I probably wasn't particularly resistant to looking at the slideshow - it's not as if I was trying to protect my supposed deviancy. I do remember being told to 'look at the screen' from time to time - and not looking may have been part of my therapist's complaint that I was uncooperative, but I don't really know.”
Although they initially used the same aversives that would later be used in my therapy for lesbianism, they did not bother using any kind of imagery or measurement - so to that extent it was entirely different. They would just tell me that they would continue the sessions until I could 'eat like a normal person'. In that respect it was entirely punitive and did not incorporate any of the 'scientific' ideas used in aversion therapy - which I assume was meant to be based on the same idea as Pavlov's dogs.”
“Nobody wore any clothes from home. The hospital seemed o have a plentiful supply of clothing that was made on the premises and they strove for a certain degree of uniformity - but you have to bear in mind that for most of the time we 'sexual deviants' were part of a larger teenage ward that had all types of patients - whether mentally retarded, catatonic, psychotic etc. and it would have been difficult to have us all look uniform.
They didn't trust the sexual deviants - they expected us to molest anybody we could get out hands on - whether it was each other, the 'normal' patients, or even ourselves. So we weren't allowed to socialize in the dayroom or move about without some form of restraint - usually what they called jackets, but weren't much like some of straitjackets I have seen elsewhere. There were a lot of variations because they were made for each person in the hospital's brace shop and the nurses could ask for whatever design variations they thought would be helpful. But mostly the arms were laced to our sides unlike the Houdini style jackets that have the arms in front. Many of the other patients were allowed to move about and use their arms so long as they didn't cause any problems. So you would have a number of patients with full use of their arms and then others, apparently armless, moving around the dayroom, looking quite un-uniform. But they did make some attempt to have us properly and modestly attired - perhaps with an added emphasis on modesty given the presence of potential molesters in their midst. Those unrestrained generally wore a mid-calf mid-grey cotton dress, belted at the waist and with slightly puffed sleeves at the shoulder, a white detachable peter-pan collar, white detachable cuffs, and a plain white pinafore. It was neat enough, being tailored to fit each patient, but looked a little incongruous on some of the obviously retarded patients. I take that back - it looked a little incongruous on everybody - but like anything else you get used to it and before long it begins to look normal.
Those of us who were wearing jackets wore 'slips' over them - sleeveless tubes made from the same mid-grey cotton as the dresses. They had the same peter-pan collars and the pinafores were replaced with tabards. There were no belts since we essentially had no waists to speak of.
And then there were a lot of variations. For instance I saw some girls wearing the 'arms crossed in front' style of jacket who were wearing their normal dresses over them - the jacket arms inside the arms of the dress. The jackets were a lot tighter than I have seen elsewhere - presumably because they were custom fitted in the brace shop - either from scratch or modified from an old, often greasy, one. This tightness, especially in the sleeves when they were the 'arms-in-front' kind allowed them to be worn under our dresses instead of over them. So, as you can see, uniformity, if it was a goal, was only partially achieved.
I think I mentioned that I managed to bite one of the nurses when I was being admitted and that turned out to be a big mistake, because throughout my stay the nurse continued to make sure that I 'paid-for-it'. And I 'paid-for-it' in any number of ways. One of them was having to wear a hessian slip under all my clothes and restraints. It was as itchy as any hairshirt must have been and they were always looking for. proof that I must be finding ways to masturbate - and that was in spite of the considerable measures that they always took to ensure that we didn't masturbate. That meant a trip to the brace shop for a very elaborate (and uncomfortable) orthopaedic brace to better ensure my future good behaviour.
I could never really understand why we wore pinafores and tabards. I suppose it was a hold-over from a prior era when such things were more fashionable - maybe when the building first opened - but by the early sixties they were something of an anachronism for anybody but a little girl - an age we teenagers were trying to dissociate ourselves from. They must have been a nightmare for the laundry and we were always getting in trouble for smudging them. But they also served the purpose of identifying us. Every girl on the ward had her number printed in large numerals on both the front and the rear of her pinafore or tabard and the deviants also had 'DEVIANT' printed in large capital letters beneath the numbers, letting everybody know to give them a wide berth - just in case they missed our stubbly heads.”
“I'm not sure how long the average stay might have been. I was there for three years - when the program was phased out - and I don't think that I was unusual. I was lucky to be released rather than remaining a patient in one form or another. The problem was that the results of the program and my own treatment were considered inconclusive and the hospital was reluctant to discharge me, still a possible danger to society, only a teenager and with nowhere particular to go.
Dietary Control and Enforced Weight Gain?
“Still on the subject of diets: was there any attempt to weight control? Perhaps weight loss or even enforced weight gain (something that occurs in volume 2 of my book)?”
“I should apologize for not having read your book yet and for not having read very much of your blog. It is very high on my list of things I must do, but things have been very hectic ever since I found your blog - and writing this letter hasn't helped! As for weight control, I'm not quite sure. I do remember overhearing a conversation between two nurses that were discussing what to do about a particular patient. She was extraordinarily beautiful and I think she had been admitted because it was feared she would become promiscuous because she had a number of older boys pestering her. Anyway, the nurses were talking about what might be done and the question of fattening her up or making her too skinny to still be attractive was discussed - but I'm not quite sure what the outcome was. Somehow I think she may have been moved off our ward.
“I'm not sure if this counts, but I do remember that we were often made to wear the braces, and other devices that were made for us in the brace shop, long after they were comfortable. At our age many of us periodically grew quite rapidly. I don't think it was a cost saving measure because most of the people that worked in the brace shop, and certainly almost everybody who worked in attached sewing shop, were patients, and I assume they had to work for nothing. Besides, they showed absolutely no reluctance to take us down anytime they wanted to get us a more 'difficult' brace or jacket or make a modification to our existing brace. So I'm inclined to think that our wearing of braces that we had outgrown was just one more little way in which they needled us. Incidentally I was the recipient of an elaborate brace within a few days of admittance - ostensibly to cure my stooping. Nobody had mentioned it before and I suspect that the nurse I bit was behind it. Of course after a week or so it didn't seem so bad - but it made moving and bending much more difficult - and in that respect I was always conscious of it.”...to be continued...
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
An Essential Blog and a Teaser
Well I'm afraid, for the answer to that one you are going to have to wait for the next posting - if institutional humiliation is your thing, you wont be disappointed! But then again, this charming little offering on the right lower down (from little brides) may give a clue of the potential.
Now for the latest Blog I've come across: I had to do a little research today - just to check one or two things that I have incorporated into INSTITUTIONALISED volume 2 (that's what proof reading is all about - yes, I'm at that stage now). As so often proves the case, I got a little side-tracked (but only briefly; I'm being kind of strict on myself at present). Anyway, to cut a long story short, I have just added a new blog to the blog list (see side bar) - very much corporal punishment / discipline orientated. There's a hell of a lot to explore and it
You might also like to explore the bondage art of Ciro Coco (An artist I was recently tipped off about by a correspondent, just click to go to his work hosted on a commercial site - let me know if you find other sources of his work, because I would like to see more).
Monday, 20 April 2009
Commentaries, Comments, Opinions & Proof Reading
On the subject of commentaries and comments; another anonymous contributor has left a new and fascinating comment on the previous post "Dietary Discipline, Harassment Therapy & Sexual Reorientation – A Reader’s Account Revisited (Part 2) (Click here to read the comment) or go to the bottom of the article and click on link - it really is worth reading: There is a part about a hapless young woman being placed under legal guardianship and thus placed quite legally under the authority of another, that, being directly related to one of the events occurring in the upcoming INSTITUTIONALISED volume 2, very much belongs under the heading of 'truth stranger than fiction'!




