Two New Blogs, a Couple of Changes and Some News and Views

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Institutional and Domestic Discipline: An Illustrative Collaboration

Hands up who would like to see an illustrated version of the new volume when it appears. Over the last couple weeks or so I have been developing a collaborative project with a guy from across the pond who works with 3-D rendering - and who is on a similar wavelength, to boot - with an eye to doing just that. Actually you have met him and his work before in the blog entry dated the 17th April 2010 entitled Another Day, Another Barred Window (click to view) under the name of ‘Snoozz’. It's still early days in the creative process yet, but it's an exciting concept I'm sure you will agree - even so I thought it would be interesting to garner opinion; so let me know what you think! It is ‘Snoozz’ we have to thank for today's pictorial offering (above left). Although representing just one scene, in what is a fairly complex storyline, I feel that it really embodies that all-important sense of oppression and the feeling that here is a buried, private and secluded little world outside the reach of conventional society and beyond the control of meddling ethics committees, busybody social workers and the rest. Quite wonderful! To see more of this guy's work click here.

While on the subject of illustration: the pic on the bottom right is something I pinched from a site I am affiliated to (see bottom of page) and that I think illustrates beautifully a scene I've been working on for the new volume which harks back to an earlier period when one of our characters, prior to being brought to the clinic, had first gone to live with her aunt - a strict, overbearing ex psychiatric nurse who begins to dominate her from day one.

Actually, now that I come to think about it; an opinion poll is something I have yet to do. I've never really been that excited about the idea, simply because there have been so many others carried out in the past on the various other websites, blogs and forums etc that populate the spanking world. Nevertheless it would be interesting to know, for example, which implements my readership prefer to imagine used, what types of scenario are favoured or which fetishes people think might work within the story arc of the series or would like to see included in some manner. At the end of the day this blog has never been entirely about spanking nor is it purely about BDSM in the conventional sense. With that in mind, perhaps a poll or questionnaire could work, if it were presented in a new non-stereotypical way and the questions were structured in such a way as to reflect both the spirit of the books and gain inspiration while stimulating the imagination of the participants.

Towards the end of last week I managed to acquire a chest infection - well to make matters worse while away this past weekend it developed into some sort of full-blown chest complaint, making it difficult to breathe. I have asthma and to be honest it is quite common for a simple cold to develop into a breathing problem - sometimes a sneeze will set off on asthma attack; which is fine if I have an inhaler to hand, which quickly sorts it out. On other occasions - and this looks to be one of them - a secondary infection sets in a whole thing becomes problematic until I can get my hands on some antibiotics. Those of you who regularly followed my ramblings will already know that I rely to a great extent on voice recognition software to dictate my work into the computer as I am as dyslexic as hell, easily distracted and incredibly slow at typing (not in any particular order of importance). Well, in addition to making me nauseous, I'm sure you can imagine how fits of uncontrollable coughing not to mention a blocked nose and wheezing can play havoc with voice dictation software - all sorts of gobbledygook results unless I quickly turn off microphone. To make matters worse the wheezing and blocked nose, together, seem to have affected the character of my voice so that more than ever this perverse little software package seems to be deliberately working against me - and I've often thought that it deliberately misunderstands me in any case… this computer hates me, I am sure of it! Bye for now!

How Might She Punish Herself: A Random Thought for the Day

A random thought brought about by working on the new book and through an email correspondence: The idea of the victim having to train their tormentor is potentially interesting in the extreme. In a way this could be a secondary matter - for example; if through some weakness of will our young heroine might allow her tormentor some sort of insight into her subconscious that might then in turn be used against her to extract yet more information. Then again, consider this: How about a trainee nurse been placed in charge of our suffering young woman, who in turn has been instructed by her nemesis - the young woman psychiatrist under who’s strict disciplinary ‘care’ she bristles – that she must lead the nurse, step-by-step, through some humiliating procedure being carried out on her person. The trainee nurse will then be tested and any failure in her knowledge paid for by several strokes of the cane – but not laid across the nurse’s backside, but rather across our hapless patient’s bottom.

Then again, perhaps the caning might even be carried out by the trainee nurse herself - the patient having to explain exactly how she should be caned, the number of strokes the doctor would expect to see awarded under those particular circumstances - that sort of thing – and all under threat of yet more punishment to come should the trainee nurse then not carry out the caning to the doctor's satisfaction.

Actually this point is quite interesting in itself as it might well be used as a lever by the doctor to overcome any reluctance on the trainee nurse's part to inflict a sufficiently severe caning. After all is said and done; should the trainee feel any sympathy for the patient - and alter in any way the procedure dictated for the punishment - then ironically all she will have succeeded in doing is to earn the subject of her sympathy an even more severe, repeated punishment. What do you folks think? Hmmm?

A Little Reiterated Reassurance

What with all the discussion recently about padded cells, baggy institutional pyjamas, nappies, plastic pants and psychological punishment in various forms, it occurred to me that it might be a good idea to reiterate something that I wrote a few moments ago as a comment on an earlier post. I'm quite keen to avoid the impression that the new book - and even the previous two volumes - is purely focused on various forms of institutional incarceration; there is plenty dealing with domestic discipline also. This is particularly the case in the new volume I am working on, wherein we gain insight into one of the character's previous life under the domination of her aunt - a woman who believed in strict discipline, petty rules and restrictions…and in the imposition of a strict and restrictive uniform for her charge as an aid to her achieving those aims. We learn more too of the subtle forms of psychological manipulation the woman - along with her psychotherapist acquaintance - employed in bringing the girl under her control. But then again, perhaps that is obvious from what I wrote a couple of postings ago.

What I'm really keen to avoid - when it comes down to it - is giving the impression that we're talking about hardcore BDSM here. In many ways nothing could be further from the truth. One thing I set out to avoid at the outset is an over-emphasis on ever escalating, ever more sadistic, corporal punishment - you know, the type of thing one sometimes reads in other novels of the genre, notably - but not restricted to - Victor Bruno et al: 100 strokes of the cane followed by smelling salts and the continuation of the vicious beating, copiously bleeding buttocks, that type of thing. By now: I have to nip off and do a couple of chores - all the way out in darkest Epping - and I have an important e-mail to deal with first.

Spanking Machines and an Italian Spanking Forum to Visit

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A Sunny Monday Update (Posted on a Tuesday) and a Bottle-green Gymslip

I am ashamed to say that I spent most of yesterday in a pub. I'd taken my computer with me and decided to do a bit of work on the book before getting round to answer my e-mails. I actually got quite a lot written for the new book but then got sidetracked by a conversation with a fellow regular and it got all a little too late in the day. As you may know if you been following this blog; for one of my characters in the new book she is about to trade in the institution's somewhat idiosyncratic take on the good old-fashioned 1950s or 1960s style school uniform for a pair of ill fitting baggy stripey institutional pyjamas and plastic pants.

As she had been taken straight from the so-called 'schoolroom unit' to the section psychiatrist's consultation room for her customary interview and analysis session this provides a good excuse for a long winded (hopefully not too long) and typically fetishistic discussion of the highly restrictive, juvenile school uniform they have her dressed in.

As she will not be returning to the schoolroom - she is going to be placed in a small secluded room leading straight off of the doctor's consultation room enabling her to have the doctor's full attention 24/7 - she will be required to strip and change into her new and perhaps in some ways even more humiliating garb in situ, thus providing full scope for a detailed description of some of the more devious refinements that have been made to the girl's uniforms.

In addition, she receives a good long hard caning while still in her school uniform by way introducing her to her new regime and to encourage her compliance when told to get changed and to go into the tiny room that is to become her new home. Of course she is reluctant even to get changed in the first place; the pyjamas are so ill fitting that she is going to have to continually employ one hand to hitch up the trousers and it doesn't help that she has been told that the whole point is to help her to "feel more like a mental patient". You can imagine her extreme reluctance when, with her wrists in leather restraint cuffs and gingerly clutching at her baggy pyjama bottoms to stop them from simply dropping around her ankles, she is ordered into a teeny bare room in which the only furnishings are the usual standard hospital bed and a small desk and chair combination - both rather sinisterly equipped with restraints. By this point she has received a second caning for not changing straight away into her new garb and is still wildly weeping when she makes a break for it.

She gets no further than the consultation room door, which is of course locked from the outside. She rushes at the drapes behind the doctor's desk but what she finds there behind the heavy fabric only results in her becoming more frantic. Finally the problem is dealt with in the doctor's own unique inimitable style - but not in the way one might think. Without giving too much away it involves her being taken for a little sojourn beyond the institution's walls and a demonstration of psychology that leaves her docilely shuffling back to her new home with the triumphantly smiling domineering psychiatrist bring up the rear, cane in hand - the girl now knows there had never been any point in her running, but she tried to run and so must be punished in any case.

And there you have it, pretty much. Other than that I also use one of the caning sessions as an excuse for a series of flashbacks to her aunt's home and the uniform that woman made her wear while she lived there, which in turn allows me to introduce some new ideas which to be honest are not entirely 'my bag' but which introduce some interesting discipline possibilities: So we hear about her hot and rather uncomfortably sticky summer dress and the heavy bottle green gaberdine raincoat that she wears at all times when out of the house no matter the weather.

It all leads to a nice little quandary, that one: It turns out that her aunt doesn't actually insist that she wear the thing but she does dictate that if it is to be worn then it must be worn correctly, fully buttoned up, tightly belted and with the hood up. Of course in hot weather this is both impractical and looks somewhat ridiculous, but the only other option is for others to see the uniform that she has on underneath it, the fully buttoned blazer, the long-sleeved school-style summer dress - a design of her aunt's own devising - and beneath that; the full-length thick nylon slip and high-waisted long-legged school knickers.

As it is she finds it bad enough being obliged to remove her raincoat so as to sit in her aunt's car - but that's her aunt's rule and she is a very strict, very overbearing woman. The latter point is very interesting and there is some discussion as to how the girl, once quite outgoing - even outspoken - and spirited came to be so dominated by this woman that she finds herself weighed down by petty rules and restrictions, subject to corporal punishment, taken to see a psychotherapist for a series of conditions, most of which seem to have been fabricated by the woman herself, and finally told, without a by or leave or having any say in the matter whatsoever, that she is to be entered as a volunteer patient in an experimental psychology program. The rest as they say is history and I can't wait to write it!

But for now: The only person who ever speaks to young heroine or as much as acknowledges her existence is the good doctor herself and the only breaks the girl has from the tedium of her isolation are the long hours of psychoanalysis and questioning sessions she spends with the that woman. All the time all she ever hears talked about is her 'mental condition' or her 'psychological state' and if she ever speaks out about any of the ideas the doctor discusses with her or attempts to change the subject then the doctor is not shy of introducing the cane or the strap to the girl's behind. As the weeks turn into months we can only watch as she is gradually ground down by a series of procedures, some quite subtle, others less so, and a regime akin to brainwashing and designed to actually turn her in to a docile mental patient. Cruel, I know but there you have it!
Remember, though: as always this is only part of the story - there's loads more going on behind the scenes for us to learn about. Talking about 'shame clothing' and 'dress discipline' which we were - sort of - how about this little combination I recently came across (See top).

Another Day, Another Barred Window

Hi there again from a blindingly bright sunny London where the sky, once again, remains free of the blemish of contrails or vapor trails or whatever folk call them these days. As you may or may not know, all thanks to a volcano in far-off Iceland there are still no flights in or out of the UK – we've pulled up the draw bridge. You find me once again comfortably seated in my local Wethespoon pub. Well, to be honest, its not the closest geographically speaking; it just the closest branch to my home from which i am yet to be barred. See what I did there? A whole different usage of the word 'barred'. The latter brings me full circle to the unfair, undeserved and exploitative symbolism I would usually attach to the word; I'm thinking narrow high windows cringing behind sinister black steel bars here of course. Saying that gives me the excuse I need to present a lovely little piece of 3D-rendered art sent to me recently and apparently inspired by my first two books – thanks, 'Snoozz'.

When first I set eyes on this little composition my first thoughts were that in the world I have attempted to evoke that window would have been covered over or at least whitewashed, surely – there is far too much scope for our young lady to distract herself there. So is allowing her an attractive panorama to gaze at compatible with the imposition of a regime of strict discipline? Well it's worth reconsidering that viewpoint, especially considering the direction I have recently – and coincidentally – been exploring in the section of the new book I have been working on.

Perhaps we can permit our heroine this one small distraction, particularly when that distraction is both ephemeral and - through it being her only avenue of escape – has the potential to assume an importance to her greater even than food or drink, however bleak or mundane the vista. Perhaps a few months, perhaps a year or more, who knows? Maybe it becomes necessary to transfer her to a new room – a windowless, bleak, despairing space. Then again; maybe a new security edict necessitates the fitting of a tough, plastic opaque security shutter. Maybe it's left more overt than that, perhaps it is an issue of discipline, a privilege than may be withdrawn or reinstated as thought necessary...Of course there is a cost attached to reinstatement. Perhaps that cost is extracted physically, in the form of a tough leather belt, folded double and laid vigorously across her plump bare behind. Then again, perhaps the cost is of a psychological nature - the latter entailing her being coerced into cooperating with some therapy or procedure she knows full well is intended to ensure she is drawn ever deeper into the web that has been set for her. Well; what do you think?