Wednesday 18 June 2014
Tuesday 17 June 2014
A Girl in an Amazing Place - and a Procedure Unspeakable
A Procedure To Groom A Girl By
IMAGE REMOVED TO CIRCUMVENT POSSIBLE COPYRIGHT ISSUES - ORIGINAL IMAGE BY SARDAX MAY BE VIEWED HERE - http://femdrawings.tumblr.com/post/84707159424 - AND A HIGHER RESOLUTION ONE ON THE LINK POSTED BY 'ANONYMOUS' AS A COMMENT TO THIS POST; JUST VISUALISE A FEMALE BOTTOM IN YOUR MIND'S EYE; AND A FEW CANE STRIPES OF COURSE!
“What an amazing place this is! So quiet, so… secluded. You’d never know it was here. But I do wonder if they’re looking after her a little TOO well – just look at the size of that bottom.
Mind you, that examination gown
doesn’t hide much… Oh look! She must
have misbehaved again – someone has already warmed up her bottom; and recently
by the looks of things. That must really
smart; well, it’s going to smart a lot more in a minute!”
“Don’t you think she’s going to sign today then, aunty?”
“Not a chance, Cynthia! She was
trying to get a message to you, trying to get you to come here, help get her
out, get a message through to her fiancé…
Would YOU like to do the honours, Cynthia? After all – you’re the one she trusts,
apparently.”
“Gosh, really aunty?”
“Yes, of course. “
"But… I don't know. She hasn’t done anything wrong… I mean… Perhaps she’d sign
if I told her what has happened… I’m not so sure I should…"
“What you SHOULD do is as you're told! Besides, you shouldn’t think of it as
punishment - it’s therapy, all part of her therapy. Now, I want you to give her a damn good thrashing,
Cynthia, really hard - you just think of all the problems she has created for YOU in the past… And THEN you can tell her the good news – I know you’ve been dying to
- all the events that have happened while she’s been in here, how fickle that
young man of hers really turned out to be, how he is your husband now. I’m sure she’ll be grateful you saved her
from all that heartache…”
"And the baby? Should I tell her about the baby? I know it shows now but... Well, you said she'd been... you know... had a procedure... I mean how terrible for her - I didn't know they did that sort of thing in these places nowadays... I mean, I know they USED to. But nowadays? To be... to have that procedure... to see someone in MY condition and know that she won't ever be able to... "
"It was the cost of her outburst last time - that's all - don't let it worry your pretty little head. If you MUST know; no, it is NOT the kind of thing that happens nowadays, not without good cause. I had it done, it was my idea. You'll find there are a great many things one can get done if one has sufficient influence. So, yes, I WANT her to know about the baby - but don't say anything. Just let her see for herself and draw her own conclusions when the nurses let her up at the end. I want to see her eyes when it dawns on her - it's the perfect time.
As for the procedure itself - only I and one other knows exactly what has been done, though the stitches and soreness should be a clue... You know - I don't think I'm even going to ask her to sign anything today. I think I'll just have you give her a damn good caning. and we'll go. We'll come back after the tour, in three months, see how she's faring then. With what I've done - or rather, had done - I doubt there will be any need for a signature at that point! Now, off you trot, go over there and play your part - you know you want to, you can't fool me; I can see it by the gleam in your eyes, sheer glee"
.........................................
Storyline - Garth Toyntanen. The picture origin I am uncertain of - but aint it great! Could have been straight out of my INSTITUTIONALISED series! Or at least inspired by it. )
Monday 16 June 2014
Shame Clothing 2 – Extending the Skirt, Extending the Concept
Wow, but that last article on 'The Imbecile Dress' has proved popular on Tumblr, already re-bloged several times! And one of those blogs it got re-bloged to had this, which I know you'll have seen before - but it made me think just how versatile those jingle bells could be:
Shame Clothing 2 – Extending
the Skirt, Extending the Concept
Yes, she has been nicely posed, and soundly
caned before hand – an exemplary example of the disciplinarian’s zeal; the
juvenile-looking uniform is to be applauded too. And now she has been left to reflect on her
‘sins’, left all alone - you don’t have
all day to stand around, there are other things to occupy your mind.
But how do you know she’ll be holding that charming pose as soon as you’ve turned your back? How do you know she won’t relax, hurriedly take up the stipulated posture when she hears the key in the lock or the handle turning? Perhaps rattling, jingling bells sewn on the skirt hem, the blouse collar and cuffs an so on? Some way of monitoring the sound? Both easy enough.
True, if she were to be careful enough, moved slowly enough, she might be able to lower that skirt, drop her hands and arms to her sides without attracting attention – and punitive consequences – but could she resume that posture quickly enough, as you step into the room, without a jingle-jangle cacophony? Doubtful!
But how do you know she’ll be holding that charming pose as soon as you’ve turned your back? How do you know she won’t relax, hurriedly take up the stipulated posture when she hears the key in the lock or the handle turning? Perhaps rattling, jingling bells sewn on the skirt hem, the blouse collar and cuffs an so on? Some way of monitoring the sound? Both easy enough.
True, if she were to be careful enough, moved slowly enough, she might be able to lower that skirt, drop her hands and arms to her sides without attracting attention – and punitive consequences – but could she resume that posture quickly enough, as you step into the room, without a jingle-jangle cacophony? Doubtful!
In essence any
dress or outfit, within reason - and there should ALWAYS be SOMETHING which
sets the wearer apart from her contemporaries and associates, however subtle
that ‘something’ might be – can become ‘The Imbecile Dress’ for the purposes of
corner time or other forms of what we might call ‘posture discipline’ with a
little though and imagination. Those
jingle bells really are available at any traditional haberdashers stores and
haberdashery departments, even today.
They are cheap, unsophisticated yet surprisingly effective in curtailing
or moderating unseemly boisterous behaviour, and can be sewn on any part of any
garment in minutes, converting something which might otherwise be merely a
little embarrassing into a seriously humiliating instrument of discipline and
control capable – with a little diligence and forethought – of affecting real
psychological change in the longer term, given the right circumstances and a
well thought-out disciplinary regimen covering other areas of her life. And.
isn’t the latter what the disciplinarian is setting out to achieve when her or
she takes some headstrong young thing in hand or guides – in one way or another
– perhaps a more sheltered, naive, shy and self-conscious sort through the
metaphorical gates of a secure and strict institution of some form or other? Rows of little jingle bells can be sewn
around the cuffs of a school blouse, the hem of a gymslip (school jumper in the
US of A, I believe) or pleated school skirt or the tops of frilled turn-over
ankle socks as easily as to a purpose designed punishment dress (see last
entry) or indeed night attire.
Yes, the cane,
the strap, the Scottish tawse and the riding crop can be effective. But in isolation, can corporal punishment
alone really bring about the sort of radical change in psychological makeup the
serious disciplinarian is out to wring from his or her charge, given that the
disciplinarian’s agenda and motives may well go beyond short-term behavioural
control? I think to the latter question
the answer is a resounding no! Indeed
corporal punishment per se can lead to a hardening of the resolve if seen and
used almost as an end in itself. A
rather unfortunate side effect! In the
right hands the role of corporal punishment is to bolster and enforce those
other forms of discipline, punitive impositions such AS corner standing
repetitious line writing and so on –
onerous, irritating, pointless tasks, restrictions, stipulations and exercises
which grate on the nerves like a dripping tap or an itch one cannot reach (or
more like a toothache which will not go away and which awakens the sufferer at
night) and which, given time, actually ERODE the girl’s resolve.
Now the dripping
tap… now there’s a thing… Whether she be stood in the corner, nose to the wall,
sat stiffly upright and straight-backed on a high stool, toes just touching the
floor and left staring at a blank white wall or her reflection in a mirror
(particularly effective, especially if teamed with ongoing repeated discussions
of the shortcomings of her features) or squeezed into a juvenile school desk writing
lines, if it can be arranged that the
imposition takes place in a quiet room someplace with perhaps a hand basin or
metal sink in a corner or against a wall with a slowly dripping tap… Well tedium is the thing – and nothing quite
adds to the tedium of such impositions as these as a dripping tap she can do
nothing about. Oddly enough, in some
ways it is even better if she is aware that with little more than a slight
twist of the wrist that tap can be stopped dripping. This is where those jingle bells come in,
combined with a baby monitor and a healthy respect for the repercussions of
disobedience. The latter might not
necessarily be limited to receiving a bottom braising from the cane, more
efficacious might be the disciplinarian simply starting the imposition again,
from scratch – and of course setting that tap drip, drip, dripping again!
…To be
continued…
Friday 13 June 2014
Shame Clothing: And She Shall Have Music... The use of Bells to Enforce Corner Time Discipline
Everyone is familiar with the traditional
conical dunce’s hat, a large letter ‘D’ printed in black on the front. But how many would appreciate the value of a
jingle bell sewn on a short tassel attached at its apex? How many have even thought of such an
embellishment? Jingle bells are easily
acquired from any traditional haberdashers or haberdashery department of some
larger stores. So why not? (See article below).
Another thought -today’s ‘social
media’ actually makes it easier to drive a wedge between a headstrong young
thing and her compatriots if properly managed and manipulated. Ever thought about that?
So... The use of bells to enforce corner time
discipline? Nothing paticularly to do with my INSTITUTIONALISED series of
novels, but an interesting concept nonetheless.
THE IMBECILE DRESS
The Imbecile
Dress is designed with a view to the enhancement and augmentation of the
benefit to be derived from such traditional disciplinary impositions as corner
standing and other forms of discipline requiring the maintenance of some manner
of prescribed posture. In the first
instance the dress itself is designed to draw attention to the wearer, by way
of its idiosyncratic styling and short skirt; to this end the sailor collar and
integral neck scarf provide for a suitably juvenile aspect. Variations, such as the high stiffened collar
lend scope for even greater disciplinary vigour, in correcting poor posture for
example. The addition of jingle bells on
the points of the collar, around the cuffs and hanging from the hem of the
skirt allow for an extraordinarily high degree of control to be exerted over
the young lady, even in the absence of direct supervision, when the discipline
of corner standing is backed up by the threat of corporal punishment. She can be arranged in any number of postures
as a refinement of the discipline - such as with arms folded in the small of
her back, hands on head or fingertips on shoulders and elbows out to the sides
for example – and the disciplinarian can retire to his or her writing desk or favourite
reading chair safe in the knowledge that the slightest deviation from the
imposition will ring out like alarm bells.
Outside of
corner standing and so on, worn for extended periods the sound of jingling
bells, especially those mounted on the points of the collar in the high collar
variation, can be expected to become tiresome in the extreme to the pretty
young thing, becoming a form of discipline in itself, encouraging her to
‘glide’ rather than stride, keep her arms down by her sides and her head
straight and looking forward and discouraging any sudden energetic movements. No more her gaily dancing around or rushing
about as if on the tennis court, she will be restricted to slow, deliberate and
unhurried movements, a tiresome state of affairs for an energetic young thing,
but a constant reminder to her that she is under control, that her affairs are
no longer her own.
There is
absolutely no reason why the disciplinarian should not take advantage of this
aspect of the outfit’s design, after all he or she is unlikely to want to be
bothered by jingle jangling bells. A few
days of listening out for the tell-tale tinkling and quickly backing it up with
a stroke or two of the cane or crop across the back of her thighs or across her
bottom given in a timely manner so that she associates it with the jangling
will pay dividends in the long term.
As far as
refinements go, the dress already features a pair of metal loops, one at the
rear of the belt, the other at the rear of the collar to which a leash can be
attached much in the manner of a
toddler’s ‘reins’. Alternatively this
feature can be used to fasten her in a high, straight-backed chair to enforce
maintaining a long-term seated posture for disciplinary purposes, whether for
line-writing impositions or simply to keep her out of the way or as a
punishment in itself. It has been shown
that simply being left facing a blank white wall in a quite room for an
extended period can have a very satisfying salutary effect on a wilful girl and
is a good starting off point for the recalcitrant, pouting, foot stamping
headstrong type who refuses to submit to corporal punishment and who threatens
to run away.
A further
refinement can be the addition of a name badge similar to the type sometimes
worn by shop assistants, either pinned over the breast, as illustrated, or
directly embroidered on to the fabric.
This can give her name or can have any one of many words or phrases
calculated to add to the feeling of humiliation the dress itself is designed to
engender written on it. In the case of
the illustration above, that word is ‘IMBECILE’, a term likely to capsulate how
she feels with all those bells jingling like a court jester. Another variation, shown above, has the word
‘IMBECILE’ embroidered across the rear of the collar – which is why it is
called ‘The Imbecile Dress’ - where of course it might be covered by her hair,
unless, that is, she is threatened with a haircut! The word ‘imbecile’ is preferred over
‘dunce’ say, in that it better implies simple-mindedness and yet does so more
fully than ‘simpleton’, say, in that it also implies some manner of mental
instability or mental incompetence. The
use of the traditional dunces’ cap, incidentally, perfectly compliments The
Imbecile Dress for corner standing.
Refined by the incorporation of a bell on a tassel attached at its apex,
the traditional conical Dunce cap can be expected to magnify any movement of
her head causing any attempt to look to the left or the right to result in
tell-tale jingling, and a hard slap across the back of her thighs.
While
essentially shapeless, to play down the wearer’s figure and thus not risk
bolstering her self-esteem in that manner while adding to its juvenile
appearance, nevertheless The Imbecile Dress is designed to be worn over heavy,
rigidly boned, corsetry of the most restrictive type. Whether that corsetry supports stockings is
up to the disciplinarian. There is a
school of thought that says she should go bare legged, apart from a tiny pair
of ankle socks or anklets and childish T-bar ankle strap shoes.
The Imbecile
Dress is designed to go with flounced short-legged bloomer-style knickers, the
frilled legs of which – gathered into deep rubber lined leg openings just above
the knees - are designed to show below the abbreviated skirt, and this works
well with ankle socks. On the other hand
there is the view that stockings provide a juxtaposition with the juvenile
appearance of the rest, which actually makes that childishness even more
apparent. Either way, the corsetry is
key and in fact is key to ensuring the wearer is not tempted to divest herself
of the outfit. The Imbecile Dress
possesses a feature – a metal ring – hidden discreetly beneath the bow, scarf
or tie (which is integral with the dress) – which is designed to lock together
with a matching ring mounted on the busk of the corset by way of a small
padlock. The design of the corsetry
which goes with this outfit is outlined elsewhere.
Conceptually The
Imbecile Dress is as adaptable to the institutional environment as it is
suitable to the domestic one, whether it be for the girl continuing her
education at home, the new young wife who needs to learn her place or the
runaway who, given room, board and shelter, proves reluctant to show her
gratitude.
Thursday 12 June 2014
Caned In Their Regulation School Leotards
The regulation school issue leotards were
delectable when filled out by the mature figures of the young women placed in
his charge, young women old enough to know their own minds under different
circumstances, even marry – albeit with parental consent in certain cases –
yes, quite divine! But this was no
school. The cane was banned in British
schools – but not here. Here corporal
punishment could be legitimised by a special dispensation if need be. But there was no need for special
dispensation, no need to invite the interference of those busy-body social
services types… And then there were all those ethics committees and such,
endless protocols and checks to navigate.
No, it was best kept this way, discrete, quite, well away from scrutiny,
public or otherwise, no need to legitimise it further.
These idiots had actually VOLUNTEERED for this,
after all, although he doubted any of them had expected to be detained as long
as they had been thus far - nor as long as they were going to be. He’d heard that fresh papers had been drawn
up, that the extension they would be agreeing to this time was going to be for
a full year, and that the wording was set out in such a way as to pave the way
to eventually obliviate the need to put pen to paper altogether, if so desired;
basically invoking the mental health act.
VERY clever, it explained why ever greater emphasis was being placed on psychological
appraisal and record keeping. He hoped
that when the time came he would be the one overseeing their signatures. Most probably the sheer force of Miss
Swanley’s indomitable personality and will was going to win out – it had done
before – but there was always the chance that one or two of them might require
‘encouragement’.
And then there was that fifth girl; she’d been here
longest of all, two years already, and he was pretty sure ‘choice’ had played
no part at all in HER coming here, however misguided. They had something special lined up for HER
to sign – now, she WAS going to require some encouragement once she’d read
through it!
But for now he had the cane in his hand – and the
unassailable, unquestionable authority to use it. And all that temptation spread out before him,
the glossy stretch nylon fabric of those school leotards adhering to every
contour, outlining every dimple, every tempting nook and cranny somehow with
greater clarity than if they were actually naked, the cut, fit and styling
leaving the majority of the bottom uncovered to bounce and wobble and gyrate in
front of his blazing eyes as he had them repeatedly touch their toes or perform
those wide-stance deep squats that were such a favourite of his, almost as if
DESIGNED to inflame his senses, his lust.
Of course he wasn’t allowed to ‘interfere’ with them, touch them in any
way – he could only ever watch with mounting frustration the sheer fabric
becoming slick with girl-sweat and ‘feminine staining’ as the backseam slipped
deeper where he’d like to slip something else, the shiny dampening gusset
worked ever more intimately in contact with...
But no, he wouldn’t use THAT, he’d slip it between those luscious bottom
cheeks that tortured him so effectively, taunted him; the girl’s had
frustration of their own to endure; and he wouldn’t want to deny them THAT by
elevating their passion with his own.
At an age when their hormones were raging, it took
the closest supervision to ensure no unauthorised ‘tampering’ took place, that
they were spared the temptations of their own bodies. He could go home and take it out on his wife,
bend her over any which way he wanted and take his pleasure – and HE was an old
man in comparison. He could only guess
how it must feel at that age for a girl to have no outlet for her sexuality
whatsoever, to not even be allowed to go to the toilet alone, to have her most
basic bodily functions closely scrutinised, to not even be allowed to wipe her
own bottom lest she use it as an excuse to ‘touch’ herself.
Yes he was frustrated, frankly BURNING with lust,
the obvious result of which was clearly bulging out from his slacks, despite
his years. But he had that cane they had
given him in his hand. He had absolute
authority over them, these fat-bottomed temptresses, these little…. harlots! He couldn’t touch them, but he could slake
his thirst in other ways, take out his frustration beating a tattoo across
their bottoms, he could thrash and thrash and thrash them mercilessly until his
arm went numb, his breath came in agonised gasps – and that infernal throbbing
had died down in his loins. Why
not? Why shouldn’t he, just because he’d
held back in the past, just because they’d rarely given him an excuse, just
because they hadn’t given him an excuse today?
In fact their obedience had been exemplary, a tribute to Miss Swanley’s
discipline and strength of purpose. But something
about that very meekness, that head-bowed submissiveness, for some reason
inflamed him more than ever. And he HAD
the cane, right here in his hand, the cane Miss Swanley herself had provided
him with. And SHE obviously intended for
him to use it! He didn’t NEED an
excuse. Why NOT use it? Why not… yes… enjoy himself…. Yes, he would enjoy it, enjoy watching them
squirm, hearing them cry out, perhaps beg!
Yes… yes he would… he WOULD
thrash them, all four of them… girl’s like that had to learn… girls like that
had to learn not to be so provocative, to have modesty…
“Ok, I was not happy with your performance today –
I think six each across your fat little bums… to begin with! Then we’ll have those leotards peeled right
down, and we’ll see which of you needs to go to matron to be shaved again… yes,
and right between those bottom cheeks too – matron has asked me to check there
as well. We don’t want any bottom fluff,
now do we?”
Tuesday 10 June 2014
Studying the Effects of Toileting Under Close Supervision
I call this one: 'Lesbian harassment in
a private secure psychiatric unit'. An image forged from an amalgam of
three computer generated images originally produced by Angela Fox and put
together by Garth Toyntanen. The images were originally destined for a
comic book or adult graphic novel loosely based on scenes taken from all three
novels of the INSTITUTIONALISED series (which may yet go ahead, prompted
by the fact that I worked on this one fresh today). The enema chair comes
from an earlier set originally intended for an illustrated version of
INSTITUTIONALISED VOLUME 3: A CONTINUUM OF DISCIPLINE. The wall board I
created today. If I say INSTITUTIONALISED VOL 1 was subtitled 'BEYOND THE
STANFORD EXPERIMENT' you might get some idea of what is going on. Of course, nothing is ever as simple as meets the eye, all is not as 'voluntary' as it might have started out - and there are shadowy figures in the background conspiring to ensure... Oh well, I expect you can guess... Or make your own storyline up - that is often much more fun. But let me in on it - that is why I started writing my own stuff in the first place.
"Fully supervised toileting means
exactly what it says - close scrutiny throughout! But it must feel nice to get out of those
smelly old pyjamas, hmm? They make you
look like a real mental patient - you look almost normal like this. Now, what's all that squirming about? Ahh, what's this, these raised weals? Has Miss Swanley had to cane you again? Sting do they? Even when I brush my fingertips across your
bottom THIS gently? But you like my
finger going up your bottom like this, though, don’t you, hmmm? And my hand running across your breast? ...
get those hands back on your head!
Now, why don't you wiggle your bottom against my hand, help my finger
slide deeper in there? Come on - wriggle
that bottom! There's going to be
something MUCH larger going up there in
a minute - and then hold back as much as you want but you're going to be
evacuating your bowels in a metal bucket while I watch. How do you think THAT will make you feel,
hmm? Yes, I'm going to make you into
SUCH a nice quiet mental patient!"
Friday 6 June 2014
Seeing with the Benefit of a Blindfold?
If you have not noticed already, I have added another entry, dated 29th May tittled 'Another Unconventional Case' and which you may not have seen, as I'd had it saved as a draft copy until today. It's a kind of mind control piece: scroll down to read! Sort of two posts in one day - sort of!
Now, blindfolds
have never really been my ‘thing’. It
can be – and has been – argued that the use of a blindfold increases the
disciplinary effect or efficacy of a caning by depriving the subject of the
knowledge of when the next stroke is going to arrive – and yes, there are
visual cues the miscreant can pick up on.
But such cues can be minimised even in the absence of a blindfold. For example the subject can be secured facing
down and away from the disciplinarian, lighting can be designed and arranged to
either be shadowless (fluorescents are good for this, especially if diffused)
or to cast the disciplinarian’s shadow back away from the subject and finally,
there is a lot to be said for a girl being obliged to observe her own features
in a mirror as she undergoes correction.
The latter can be achieved by the simple expedient of laying a mirror on
the floor and works even if she is over the lap receiving a hand spanking – in
which case keeping her eyes open throughout can form part of the discipline,
with extra punishment dished out for disobedience.
Obviously, when
across the lap it is very obvious when the next slap or whatever is coming –
not so much when secured over an ottoman or even a purpose-made spanking bench
or low padded horse. A padded massage
table can be purchased which has an opening at one end for the face. Laid face down on this, with a cylindrical
cushion under the hips to raise the bottom, she can be obliged to remain facing
the floor - and thus the mirror, - throughout by the simple addition of a broad
leather strap buckled tightly and passing across the back of her pretty
head. If the mirror is angled
thoughtfully the disciplinarian is able to view the girl’s contorted features
and thus ensure she keeps her eyes open throughout without her being able to
glimpse anything of the rise and fall of the cane etc. Better still is for a witness to be stationed
in front to supervise that part of the disciplinary procedure, although of
course that person mustn’t flinch or give away any other clue that the cane or
the riding crop is about to fall.
All this can be
done – Whispers or Blushes or another of that stable of spanking magazines
produced a nice set many years ago, and I myself have handed out a hand
spanking with a girl across my lap hanging over a mirror – and can produce an
exemplary effect on a headstrong young filly.
But the real enemy – even given the use of a blindfold – is sound. Never mind the whhhooop of the cane or switch
swishing through the air, the rustle of clothing, the shifting of weight on the
floor, shoes squeaking, boards creaking – all these things are unmistakable
clues that the next stroke is on its way.
Yes it is true that you can create apprehension and confusion by pulling
up short from time to time, taking practice swings that do little else but
produce noise or providing the occasional harmless ‘range finding’ tap, but it is still difficult to disguise
the actual stroke. No, rather than
blindfolding what is really required is to block out those sound cues.
Ear plugs work –
up to a point – but have one or two drawbacks, and miss out on the opportunity
to introduce some quite devious refinements that become possible when certain
other alternative methods are put to use.
Nothing terribly sophisticated is being advocated her – nothing that
hasn’t been available since the fifties or sixties. What I am advocating is simply the provision
of a pair of descent, padded headphones and a white noise source. The latter is easy enough – an FM radio tuned
off-channel, preferably with its aerial (antenna) removed or unplugged will
suffice. Failing that, a looped
recording of surf on a beach or even a clacking diesel engine will suffice.
Now, if care is
taken the girl will have no idea whether or not the disciplinarian is even
still in the room with her or not – and to that end, I see nothing wrong with
the disciplinarian retiring for anything up to an hour, once she is secured,
before commencing the punishment.
Utterly caught by surprise in such a manner and totally unprepared I
would be surprised if she wasn’t reduced to tears within three strokes or so,
possibly even by the very first stroke!
And now the
devious refinements I promised. One
thing now possible – and difficult with earplugs – is that arrangements can be
made for her to hear the disciplinarian’s voice, easily arranged by mixing in
the output of a microphone switched on and off as required (voice activation
would also be easily achievable nowadays).
But THAT is all she’d hear – the disciplinarian’s voice, above a
continuous babble of white noise. Imagine her nerves shredding little by
little. ‘Oh my god… when is the next
stroke coming?... when?… oh god! When?’ Perhaps three strokes might fall in machinegun
rapidity… craaack!, carack!,craaack!
Right across the centre line of her buttocks, with barely a split second
between each and landing so close together as to almost land on top of one
another… And then nothing… just the crackle of meaningless static
filling her ears… perhaps in anguish, perhaps trying to concentrate to hear
past, hear through, the all-blanketing rushing, hissing noise she closes her
eyes… Crraaaackk! The cane has been
swung up and under the heavy overhang of her bottom, landing right at the point
where the flesh is most tender, where the tops of the thighs swell in meeting
meet the buttocks, right in that crease that forms there! “Keep those eyes open, keep looking at
yourself in the mirror – THAT stroke doesn’t count!”
On the other
hand, perhaps the disciplinarian wouldn’t have left the room at all. Perhaps, if he or she has the patience, she
is content to just sit, perhaps for half an hour, perhaps longer, waiting for
the moment the girl closes her eyes or tries to look away from her own
reflection – and then…. Crrrraaaack! The
punishment starts.
A second
refinement: Most disciplinarians would
agree on the value of having the miscreant count aloud the strokes. And I think most would agree penalty strokes
or other, further forms of punishment should be awarded for failure to count,
miss-counting, losing count – that sort of thing. Similarly when it comes to the recitation of
various formulae, such as giving thanks for her correction and so on, which of
course should be given in some tightly stipulated manner, the later having an
element of humiliation providing great disciplinary value. All well and good, when she can actually hear
her own voice, a little more difficult when she is deprived of that feedback by
the constant rush of white noise filling her ears and seemingly, after a while,
her head. This becomes a LOT more
difficult, requiring no little concentration, when she DOES hear her own voice,
but delayed by half a second to a second – easily achieved with a directional
microphone set close to her mouth and a tape delay; and it really comes in to
its own when a group of several strokes are given together spaced by a roughly
similar period to the delay and is exacerbated in any situation in which the
girl is required to recite an extended formula along with the stroke
number: “….th,th,three…th, th, thank
y,you miss – thank you for correcting
me, miss…. Four, th, th, th,ank thank
you, you for correcting…” “Wrong girl –
start again: The next stroke is number
one!”
Her nerves are
shredded. Her mind confused…. It is the
second time the punishment has been restarted – and she can’t take any
more… But of course she will have to…
By finally it is
over – and THEN it is time for the blindfold.
If a small enough device is available the white noise can be continued
on her way back to her room. This is
where the blindfold comes in to its own.
Whether strapped into a psychiatric hospital wheelchair, or made to
walk, led uncertainly along the meandering corridors, that lack of sight is a
major contributor, both to disorientation and to a feeling of dependency on the
person whose job it is to see her safely back where she came from. And several twist and turns can be added to
the journey, perhaps several turns around the floor, perhaps passing the actual
door to her room several times before being led in.
In bygone times
there was a treatment available in some psychiatric hospitals which involved
strapping a patient in to a chair which was then continuously revolved. If such a device happened to be still in situ
in some old disuse room somewhere thereabouts, and given the girl is kitted out
in her blindfold and headphones or earplugs than there would be nothing wrong –
and a lot might be gained - from
breaking the journey and popping her in the rotating chair for a short
period. Then on leaving, perhaps heading
the other way, assuming a circular arrangement of corridors, back to her room
the long way, thus making her disorientation complete. And disorientation is the reason the
Victorians built their psychiatric hospitals and workhouse with such long,
convoluted, winding and maze-like corridors and passageways – it made running
away more difficult and left the inmate easier to control. And therein is a sort of another advantage of
blindfolding – kept blind folded when not in her room or on the ‘ward’ – if
kept with a small number of others – and only ever interacting with a very
limited number of individuals, the girl can’t know if she is in some sort of
huge rambling complex inside some large institution, or in some small network
of cellars or suit of rooms under or within a private house.
But why have
been prompted to write this when I say I’m not THAT keen on blindfolds. Well it all boils down to yet another of
those re-bloged images from Tumblr.
Except this one I never actually re-bloged. It was one of a pair and I downloaded this
one (picture above) but now I can’t remember where from. Years ago I had the idea of taking a girl out
essentially blindfolded, but in a manner not obvious to the public. It was all about developing psychological
dependency of course and my wife of the time and I came up with the solution of
procuring for the girl we had living with us – and who was very much under my
wife’s wing, as my wife liked to put it – a pair of very strong reading
glasses, which of course the girl didn’t need.
These were of such a strong prescription that with them on the girl had
to have her nose practically pressed to the page to read a book; her distant
and mid-distance vision was hopeless and I gather all she could make out was a
blur of shifting shapes – most disconcerting one would imagine – a bit like
looking out through frosted or misted glass, except where she could see around
the edges and down along her nose, that sort of thing. And so we’d take her out – and of course
she’d quickly kick up a fuss and take them off.
So how did we fix this? Well, my
wife did to tell the truth. Our girl was
proud of her hair back then (that was ‘fixed’ too, but at a later date – and
another story). My wife had tried fixing
elastic to them, like they sometimes do with young children’s glasses to stop
them falling off, which went around the back of her head, where it tucked under
her ponytail out of sight. And of course
we are out, and she pops to the toilet, and she comes back with them tucked in
her dress pocket (no – she wouldn’t have dared throw them away or break them;
she knew how far she could push us!).
So… and here
comes the clever part… the next time my wife made her put the glasses on she
popped a piece of the gum she had been chewing out of her mouth and pressed a
bit of the gum around the elastic at the rear and pressed a small part of it in
to the hair at the back of her head.
Just in case the woolly-headed thing didn’t grasp the implication my
wife quickly told her what she’d done – and what would happen if she tried now
to pull the elastic over her head and that pony tail of hers without help from
one of us, how the gum would undoubtedly ‘string out’ spreading and gumming up
her hair, and high-up where there would be little option other than to take
drastic action with the sheers. THAT did
the trick…
From that day
on, each time we all went out together the glasses went on, and then a blob a
chewing gum to keep ‘em on. There was no
popping into shops or wandering away on her own after that, when we were out! Not if she had those glasses on. She was like a puppy brought to heel with
those things on – she couldn’t even go to the toilet unaccompanied.
But can you
imagine what could be done with THIS little innovation (see above). Completely
opaque contact lenses! Now these would
definitely make the best kind of blindfold.
If only they had been around in the eighties!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)