Showing posts with label straitjacket bondage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label straitjacket bondage. Show all posts

Tuesday, 15 August 2023

Futher Down That Silent Treatment Road

 I think she's tried to beg to stay at that wndow just a litte longer but it's clear that in addition to having had her face slapped she's also been the recipient of a fair dose of the cane...I've done a bit of work on the straitjacket too in the hope that Angela might feed it back into her AI thingy to try and get a better and more realistic version...BTW The nurse has a new head


 I'm not sure about the face slapping and that she's had a dose of the cane. In hindsight I think her treatment perhaps ought to be restricted to simply being totaly ignored...Any thoughts?

Tuesday, 25 May 2010

Victorian Straitjacketed Cruelty: You Couldn’t Make It Up - Well I could...

Coming firmly under the general category of ‘you couldn't make it up’ I came across this (slightly edited) newspaper article while pondering the thorny subject of how one might have ‘put away’ a troublesome young ward or heiress. Of course one might, as Elizabeth Jane Cochran wrote way back in 1887 “…take a perfectly sane and healthy woman, shut her up and make her sit from 6 a.m. until 8 p.m. on straight-back benches, do not allow her to talk or move during these hours, give her no reading [matter] and let her know nothing of the world or its doings, give her bad food and harsh treatment, and see how long it will take to make her insane. Two months would make her a mental and physical wreck”. But how to get her there in the first place? HmmmBut then way back, there were all those possibilities embodied in the marvelous Magdalene Laundries (left) and as has been said, once even young girls who were considered too promiscuous and flirtatious were sometimes sent to such an asylum. And they knew a thing or two about dealing with the recalcitrant young miss in those places.

"A sullen temper, often shown by refusing food, is best dealt with by silence. When a girl wakes up to the fact that no one takes any notice, nor is troubled (apparently at least) by her self-starvation, she gets weary of her self-imposed martyrdom and learns sense." [Arthur J. S. Maddison, Hints on Rescue Work, A Handbook for Missionaries and Superintendents of Homes (1898).

Talking of asylums and straitjacketed bondage: I have just signed up to the affiliate program run by ‘The Girl Asylum', another site filled with content I would think eminently suitable for my readership and of course relevant (which I consider important) to at least part of the story arc of the INSTITUTIONALISED series – click the banner pic (top) to visit or check out the sidebar and the foot of the page.
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PS: I have also added a brand spanking (Ho, Ho, Ha, Ha!) new search facility which you can find at the top of the right-hand sidebar and that you can use to search the blog content, blog links etc. I have just tried it and it works a treat!

Wednesday, 28 April 2010

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!

Monday, 24 August 2009

A Bit of News - I'm Working for a Week - and a Lot of Reader Comments

Hi folks, sorry you have not heard from me for a while but I have been away for a while, although I was back in London on Saturday for the last night of the Kenwood House (Hampsted, London) open air concerts on Saturday night with the Philharmonic Concert Orchestra and Alfie Boe singing - a very pleasant if slightly chilly evening. Meanwhile there have been quite a few interesting comments posted in various sections of the blog such as on the last posting I made, back last Tuesday but also on 'An Anonymous Contribution and A Couple More Links' (click to read - look at bottom of posting) that I posted way back in February I think and on 'Aussie School Uniform Summer Dresses, Soap Operas and Inspiration' (again, click to read) that I posted back in July of this year.

Now some other news: I have finally at long last picked up some real work - around one week or so of desk research work, internet based! For that reason the likelihood is that there will be no more posts for around that period as the work looks quite complex and challenging. However; I have some rather interesting stuff lined up to celebrate my return upon completion. Meanwhile thanks for your comments and contributions - please keep them coming in, along with your ideas and inspirations for the upcoming volume and for volume 3 of INSTITUTIONALISED, when I finally get around to working on it again.

Wednesday, 6 May 2009

A New and Intriguing Story to Check Out

A very short posting today, no pics I'm afraid - not enough time to source 'em. I'm hard at work - chained to my desk (not literally - I'm the master here. That's why my significant other has her nice new white satin pinny to wear)....and no drinkies!. I just wanted to take this opportunity (I've awarded myself a tea break) to point you in the direction of an interesting straitjacket / asylum story presently unfolding and developing on http://greggerbits.tripod.com/stories.html (click to read chapter 1 ) the basic premise being that a young college woman who fails a psychiatric exam [is then] committed to a mental hospital for further testing. I love this idea and the avenues it opens up - especially if in truth there is little wrong with the subject to start with! I have always enjoyed mulling over the possibilities for exploitation of vulnerable young things inherent in the asylum / mental health system - particularly as pertains to those often less-than-entirely-ethical days of old when wives, awkward stepdaughters and heiresses could find they had stepped out of society based on little more than the word of a disgruntled stepmother or guardian or even a slighted suitor (And a greasing of a palm or two by silver). Anyway, why not explore the entire site while you are there - a lot of interesting links (very straitjacket / asylum orientated) and a lot of material regarding straitjackets in various media (films, TV etc). Incidentally, yours truly has been kindly thanked by the writer (thanks, for the mention) for having helped but in all honesty I can claim only to have read through, made one or two comments and offered-up a couple of ideas for the story's future development and direction.
While we are on the subject - inspired by the story mentioned above, I did a little searching around and came up with a couple of other little gems: A nice selection of free straitjacket photographs on http://www.straitjacketed.com/freepics.html (click site name - highlighted in blue - to view or see sidebar resource list) and a continuing story that I am sure you (and the writer I have just mentioned above) will just love. Entitled; The Job j and posted on the same site's free section, just click on the title to read the first chapter, then just follow the links to the subsequent sections...enjoy!
As for me? Its back to proofreading / editing INSTITUTIONALISED volume 2 / 3 (At this point, I'm still uncertain whether to split it into two volumes or not).

Friday, 24 April 2009

Dietary Discipline, Harassment Therapy & Sexual Reorientation – A Reader’s Account Revisited (Part 3 – Walking Down the Aisle…Again & Again & Again

Again, coming under the general banner of 'Truth Stranger than Fiction' here is the third part - Walking Down the Aisle (can you see where this is going yet?) A n interview, of sorts conducted by yours truly by email. Click here to read part 2 - -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).

Before we get started: I have just this minute added another Yahoo Group to the side bar Yahoo Group list: Eric Stanton Cartoons (the art of Stanton) (Click on group name – in blue – or see sidebar on right)

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.

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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.
The nurses encouraged the other patients to harass us - and there was nothing we could do, restrained as we were. If we did try to retaliate, like try to head-butt somebody, it never worked out well for us. Between the nurses and the other patients we were constantly being teased - or being sabotaged in petty ways - like having our pinafores and tabards dirtied.
Shame Clothing
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.
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On two sides of the dayroom there were areas considered no-man's-land. That was where the windows and climbing bars were situated. No-man's-land was marked with a white line and none of the patients was allowed to cross it - making the windows and climbing bars, and some of the doors off-limits. Indeed we soon learned to give no-man's-land a wide a birth, for even approaching the line would generate unwanted attention from the nurses. But within patient area there was line running around close to the perimeter - and it was this line that we had to follow when we were doing 'circuits'. If I remember correctly I had to do about 200 circuits on the days when I was wearing the wedding dress. It wasn't nearly as many as I might have been made to perform on another day, but I remember having to proceed as if I was proceeding up the aisle. One foot forward - bring up the other foot level with it. Pause. Repeat. So my progress was slow and infinitely humiliating. Our progress, when performing circuits, was recorded by one of the drooling girls who was surprisingly efficient - she had paper with a kind of grid on and she would colour in one of the squares whenever we passed. However there were times when she would become distracted and I'm quite sure there were many times when she would fail to record a circuit.
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Besides those times when we had to parade around the dayroom in our 'costumes' we were assigned circuits for - well, I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe to keep us fit? Maybe as a result of some minor infraction. Maybe to keep us occupied if it looked like we might be heading for trouble. Whatever the reason we each had our own chart recording our progress in performing circuits. Generally the rule was that we had to perform five more circuits than our previous best - so if you were assigned circuits frequently it soon became quite laborious - especially if you weren't smart enough to start out slowly and make sure that you never completed more than the five extra circuits. If you lost count and did extra circuits 'just to be safe' that became your new 'best'. And there were consequences for failing to beat your best by those five circuits. You were not allowed to run, and if the nurses thought that you were walking too fast for 'safety' then you could find yourself hobbled.
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Looking back, I can't help but wonder whether the same concept might have been applied to our aversive treatments. Is it possible that the shocks were increased each time, and so long as we didn't pass out then the new high voltage or duration became our 'best' and had to be surpassed in our next session? It certainly felt like it. I wonder if we could become 'accustomed' to the shocks, so that if we passed out five times in a row from a particular level of shock, whether by the sixth we would be able to endure it without passing out? In the same way as our fitness might increase as we performed circuits in the dayroom.
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I also need to research something called harassment therapy. I remember coming across an article about a girl being kept in sheets and forced to scrub the bathroom floor with a toothbrush. The objective was to make her 'crack' - or something, but I've never understood what this was meant to achieve. But now I think about it, it sounds awfully similar to a lot of my experiences. I
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.”
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“As regards being 'encouraged' to eat the disliked foods; you mention the use of 'aversives'. What did they consist of , how were they applied and how did they operate - what was the effect each time they were applied?”
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The treatment to 'encourage' better eating habits used the same aversives that were later used to treat my supposed lesbianism: electric shocks, injection of drugs to induce nausea etc. This could continue for hours at a time - and believe me, after just one such session I was more than willing to eat anything they put in front of me. But they continued such treatment long after I thought I must be eating to their satisfaction - perhaps to ensure that I would not 'backslide'.
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.”
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“Incidentally, was any form of corporal punishment used to maintain order and enforce compliance?”
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“Yes, but this was no surprise to me. After all we were caned at school - both on our rears and on our hands. You have to remember that this was in the early sixties and I was at a private school. However, I must admit that the corporal punishment in hospital was both more severe and was applied for less serious offenses. All the nurses had the authority to punish us, but the most serious punishments were usually administered by the ward sister, or at least under her watchful eye. Something else that effected my punishments was that I often had a bad nappy rash and my punishment would often be terminated part way through (often one stroke short of completion) to avoid injury, only to have the punishment re-started from the beginning on another part of my anatomy more able to withstand the strokes.”
Inmate Uniforms?
“From what you say about the place and the canvas smocks worn for meals etc I doubt it was permitted to retain own clothes - or were night-dresses taken from home allowed, for instance? If not, what sort of thing was issued by the hospital and was any attempt made to enforce a uniform appearance? I'm just wondering whether nightdresses were worn at all times, for example, or whether other clothing was available for other times of the day, in which case (and assuming all hospital issue) was there a disciplinary aspect to it - for example was it necessary to look a certain way, to appear smart, perhaps, even though the circumstances seem to make such concerns obsolete? (After all it's a nice way of asserting control).”

“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.”

"As regards their imposition of the punishment diet; you mention a period of three months or more: this is particularly interesting as it implies a long period of residence, if a punishment should go on for three months. How long was the average stay? Was it ordained at the outset how long it should be or could it be extended at the whim of the therapists (or even for punishment purposes)?”

“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...

Friday, 13 March 2009

Odds & Sods 'n Stuff & a New Blog to Explore & a 'Truth is Stranger than Fiction' Thingy

The builders are in today so as I can't get much done on volume 2 (not that it needs much doing to it now) I thought I might as well do some work on the blog. First of all; one or two folk have emailed asking about various implements. Mention has particularly been made of the Martinet and the switch. While perusing the 'Web for a good example of the former I came across this charming little Paula Meadows / Lynne Paula Russel sketch and a new blog (or at least, new to me) called Beauty and the Birch (click pic or blog name to visit). As is quite rightly stated on that blog; the Martinet is a 'whip-like instrument incorporating a number of thin leather straps' favored by French girl's schools. It is not something mentioned in INSTITUTIONALISED volume 1 (click for preview / blurb) but does make in appearance in volume 2, introduced by the secure psychiatric wing, experimental psychology unit's new 'school room' mistress - but there applied to the soles of a girl's feet and the palms of her hands (she keeps a heavy leather strap handy for the buttocks). Where I use the word 'switch' I mean of course the riding switch or crop although it can be taken to mean any thin flexible rod, typically used for corporal punishment of the birching type.

Now for another little bit of 'truth' being stranger than fiction: this being from the New york Times (Hope you can read it ok - just click on it to make it bigger). An eighteen year old chained in a seated position for two weeks? Hand cuffs and shackles biting into her, rubbing raw the flesh for two weeks? Far, far too cruel - it is what straight jackets are just made for. A nice comfy straight jacket, all safe and sound, soft padded medical restraints around the ankles, a nice warm padded floor and equally padded walls to lean against, spoon-fed at meal times, placed on a bed pan as necessary or kept in diapers and plastic knickers - with such care there would be no reason not to extend her detention to three weeks or even to a month or so.
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Perhaps even provide her with company; have her join a young lady already a couple of weeks into her treatment - a snapshot or glimpse of her own future self, so to speak, just to give her an idea of what to expect. No talking, mind - oh no, that would never do! And we don't want her muttering to herself, either, do we? I,d favour plain old fashioned good discipline at this point, but a ball gag, better, a baby pacifier, could be applied or perhaps an elctro-shock collar of the type used to train dogs not to bark.
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And the real punishment? Well that would just be that gentle, tinkling little nursery rhyme or lullaby, playing over and over and over - not loud, just there in the background, in the deathly silence and just above the gentle rhythmic hiss of her own breathing and the occasional creak of canvas and leather and rustling of plastic pants. Playing over and over and over 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
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Of course one could choose to stop it after a while, perhaps remove the pacifier or other such restraint - it can always be restarted if she speaks. Or on the other hand it could just be restarted anyway, at random intervals and associated with electric shock - just a mild jolt - to set up neurosis / superstitious behaviour in the subject, A useful approach, that - should one require some way to extend a young lady's residence: perhaps an inheritance is at stake or the control of the family business, perhaps she has seen something she shouldn't or perhaps it simply suits someones whim to see her kept under an exploitative regime of strict discipline for its own sake. (Now, where have you come across some of those ideas before - yes, that's right! INSTITUTIONALISED volume 1)

Monday, 17 November 2008

Another Story I've Come Across in my Travels

I have just found a nice little bit of bondage / slavery / caged-girl story (and a new blog) and I do like to get my fill of girls in cages. Its the best place for them, even if I do tend to keep mine in cells - padded and otherwise - and securely locked and barred hospital wards (literally speaking of course) but nothing really beats a nice cramped little cage (it's just that it doesn't fit with my particular story arc that I'm developing at the moment...unless somebody has some good ideas to incorporate one into the INSTITUTIONALISED story thread. The tale is called The New Pet by DragonMage (read it here - click title - blog link in blog list on sidebar) and I should be able to sort out a suitable caged girl pic later...but then I am still looking for a suitable mouth-soaping pic for the article that I posted up (well I found one, or rather, to tell the truth, I was sent one - thanks go out to Anon 5. I'm not sure of the artist's identity though - I can't read the signature. Personally I'd prefer to see something slightly smaller if anything - she shouldn't have the room to stretch out her legs - and with a litter tray beneath a barred floor to catch her waste. Better still, to my taste, is a straitjacket, a tiny windowless padded cell and a perpetually repeating nursery rhyme (the type of treatment one comes across in INSTITUTIONALISED volume 1) or random electronic beeping, perhaps sounding every two to three minutes - a kind of modern take on the old Chinese water torture).

Its on a nice imaginative little blog called The Lair of the Dragon mage (click to visit) and there are a number of areas of departure from the old tried tested bondage / spanking blog format. For instance there are articles involving orgasm denial and control and the use of hypnosis to achieve a kind of virtual bondage - imagine, if you will, the sheer unadulterated frisson of a woman in reality free to move yet convinced through post hypnotic suggestion that her arms and ankles have been immobilised and forced thereby to retain her position while her bottom is spanked. you can read that bit here (click).

Tuesday, 5 August 2008

Another Volume 1 Extract: Punishment-Rhymes

Another extract from good ol' INSTITUTIONALISED volume 1 for any that haven't read it yet and to help set the scene for the extracts of volume 2 that I have been posting here and will be continuing to in the future. The pic came from one of the old Yahoo groups and is almost certainly a manip, but a nice one (alright, so its not a padded cell, but it captures the anguish nicely). As with the other volume 1 extracts I have posted, this piece has been previously posted on some of the relevant news groups. This piece differs somewhat in that it incorporates straitjacket-bondage, enforced diaper use and psychological punishment. It is very non-consensual so if such subject matter bothers or worries you, then please skip this.
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Punishment-Ryhmes
(Click on title for previous vol 1 extract)
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To set the scene: a young women, 18 year old Lavinia Vittess, has been persuaded to enter an institution as a medical research volunteer only to discover that all is not quite as it had initially seemed. Here we look in on her as, while under the vicious caress of Matron's cane, she finds her mind filled with the memory of a previous punishment.

For the first time Lavinia could make out some detail amongst those shapeless folds of canvas. And then it had hit her: straitjackets, they were straitjackets. Yes, indeed they were straitjackets and quickly indeed the two miscreants were enrobed in the same.

They were told to sit on the floor, as thickly padded as the walls, as their shoes were removed. Again the nurse had left the room, returning, with only the slightest delay, carrying what Lavinia was later to learn were medical restraints, each consisting of two padded leather cuffs linked by a short, strong, leather strap. These were quickly affixed to each girl's ankles.

The dormitory mistress had looked down on the two of them with satisfaction, there were to be no words of explanation just a simple instruction: " No talking". With those words both nurse and mistress departed, the closing door sealing the room as completely as to appear to practically evaporate, becoming part of a seamless continuous padded wall. With the two girls seated against the back wall there was little spare space and Lavinia soon discovered it was not possible to fully stretch out, nor could she topple over, her right shoulder was touching the right wall and her left shoulder was only a very short distance, perhaps two hand-widths, from the other girl's.

From the point of view of the independent observer the instruction not to talk would have been an interesting one. It would, of course, have been possible for the two girls to have been gagged; clearly such a contingency had no part to play in this particular stratagem. The fact was they had been incarcerated in order that they might be trained; they had been told not to talk and, even though they were alone and unsupervised, they would not talk. Patient 16S had already been far too well-trained to dare talk without permission. In her turn Lavinia, patient 30S, would be discouraged by the presence of her deeply trained and unresponsive companion.

Additionally Lavinia would be only too aware that it was she who had caused them both to be punished and it would be she who would be to blame if any further disobedience on her part was to result in her compatriot’s increased suffering; Indeed by this mechanism the most immense psychological pressure was being brought to bear on Lavinia to conform.
And then the nursery rhyme had begun; 'Boys and girls come out to play' apparently performed on a child’s xylophone. The affect on her companion had been immediate; within the space of a few notes she had begun franticly struggling in her straitjacket, rocking back and forth until, totally distraught, she had broken down completely, becoming a spasm-racked wreck of uncontrollable weeping.

Had Lavinia recognised earlier the implications, the pertinence, of the events unfolding before her then surely she too would have been struggling, both physically and mentally; the concern and sympathy she had felt for the girl might well have been inwardly transferred. For, in witnessing the girl’s reaction, had she not been gifted a view across time, a window into her own future? And yet such foresight, when recognised as such, was only to serve to bolster that dreadful inevitability. The presence of an example of their finished product, as it were, could only serve to ensure the correct moulding of their next; that had always been their intent, her 'carers', that was the reason for the double incarceration, the rational behind the punishment of the innocent along with the guilty.

In time, an unknowable time, the chiming had been displaced by an entirely different timbre, the pitch and cadence instantly familiar; simultaneously two stomachs rumbled, two mouths salivated, two girls were consumed with gnawing hunger. Within perhaps half a dozen chimes of the 'meal bell' the door had sprung open, seemingly as an apparition manifesting within the wall itself, to admit a sweetly smiling nurse carrying a white plastic tray upon which sat the familiar white plastic bowls and beakers, two of each, the door being carefully closed behind her by an unseen hand.

The nurse had manoeuvred herself to kneel in front of the girls and midway between the two pairs of bent knees. Sitting back on her heels and with the tray balanced upon her plastic-apron covered lap she proceeded to spoon feed both girls, offering a spoonful to first one girl and then the other, always smiling, occasionally speaking but only ever as reinforcement; "that's a good girl, eat up, you must be very hungry". Outside, the other girls would have been seated around the circular table, as at every meal time.
Both bowls having been emptied the nurse had held a plastic beaker up to each girl's lips in turn until such had been drained in each case and the girl’s thirst quenched. Only at that point did the 'meal bell' cease.

Despite the vastly expanded length of time it had taken to manually feed the two girls, as compared to the standard mealtime, the bell had sounded throughout. Only later was Lavinia to mull over the implications of this latter point; that the bells they heard in their room must issue forth from some source dedicated to that room, rather than from some source centralised throughout the institution. In addition she came to realise that for the clinic to go to such trouble and then to so carefully synchronise such events implied some function of great import to them.

She had had a broad and wide ranging education and was possessed of a general knowledge more thorough and detailed than most; the work of Pavlov and the term, conditioning, were not totally unfamiliar to her. They were being conditioned for some reason, all of them, and she had been, she realised, for some time, since her arrival in fact. She had determined at that that point that she would fight it, ignore the bells, but deep inside that part of her had already been defeated, did she not hunger at the sound of the 'meal bell', did she not give way to weariness at the sound of the ' sleep bell'?

They had sat there in silence since the nurse's departure, Lavinia having begun to mull over more of the practicalities, or rather the impracticalities, of their incarceration. Her stomach was full and it would all have to go somewhere; that was just nature. As it was she had had that awful anal grommet device fitted; even on that deeply, softly, padded floor she was aware of its presence, the anal dilator. She was always aware of its presence; occasional bouts of 'wind' now consisted of a softer and less violent release but one that was uncontrolled and continuing, the legacy of which was detectable with any shifting of weight or movement that might cause a momentary displacement of the leg cuffs of her knickers and that had become a faint but ever present companion. That, even in the absence of a major bowel movement, the earliest, more watery, products of digestion would be trickling into her absorbent pad was beyond doubt; the sticky-warm sensation had already begun to spread across her lower buttocks.

Then it had happened; somewhere a bell had started to toll, the other patient, 16S, was grimacing with the physical pain of her cramping stomach and the psychological pain of the shame of it. Lavinia, despite her recently developed determination of defiance, had felt her bloomers filling around her buttocks and thighs, the device holding open her anus denying her even that last vestige of control. Both girls had simultaneously began weeping with a despair known only to the utterly and totally defeated and had been weeping still when the nurse had arrived.

The straitjacket’s crotch strap had to be released first to allow the nurse to reach up under the canvas and unlock, with the requirement of no little dexterity, the waistband securing the bloomers. Removing the restrained from the girl's ankles allowed the bloomers to be removed and unceremoniously dumped in the waiting bucket. A second nurse had entered and, with the difficulty expected of such close confines, rolled the girl over onto her side to allow a wet sponge thorough and unimpeded access. Lavinia could see that, not unsurprisingly, the girls anus was grossly dilated by the rubber-doughnut that constituted the anal grommet and for the first time she really understood how she herself now appeared, viewed from that angle. But there had been something else, when they had turned her over, her vaginal lips were equally stretched and distorted, the resulting gaping maw apparently surrounded by a sprung rubber-lined ovoid. This region had had to have special attention lavished in order to remove the risk of infection due to the ingress of her bodily waste. One of the nurses had then retrieved a oval black rubber plate device that, it had turned out, was designed to clamp over the poor girl’s medically-corrupted vagina, effectively sealing it off from any further ingress.

The second nurse had been working on the girl at the same region, and upon completion of her task a short length of flexible white tubing protruded out from between the girl's legs, this latter being routed through an orifice provided in the rubber plate prior to its being fitted in position. The girl was now sealed from infection and successfully catheterised. A strong smell of disinfectant had filled the air and then she was re-robed in a fresh pair of bloomers. The latter having been locked back in place, the crotch strap was refastened and her ankles were placed back in restraints. In due course Lavinia too had been dealt with in a similar manner, albeit without the complication of catheterisation, and the two girls again left to their isolation. And then the nursery rhyme resumed its charming, chiming, song.
Mealtimes had come and gone without number, bloomers, now fitted over diapers, were filled and consequently changed. The 'sleep bell’ would sound, promising respite, yet, shortly after, the nursery rhyme would restart its gentle jangling, both girls jolted awake by its resumption then dozing intermittently, all the while those few notes sounding, over and over and over through to the next mealtime. In time both girls had become indistinguishable in their desperation, in their weeping, both girls struggling within their confining bondage, the secure unrelenting swaddling-womb of their straitjackets, at each resumption of that once innocent but now so, so, terrible, song. Bodies writhed and twisted over and over, heads repeatedly thumped against walls and floor, with all the consequence of impact with the softest of feather pillows. Screams rendered throats so raw as to reduce to practically inaudible pathetic mewing any further protestations.

Only upon their thrashings becoming so wild as to threaten injury from the clashing of heads had more stringent restraint been called for; the addition of a simple leather leash, of a suitable length, between collar ring and ankle restraints enforcing the adoption of a safely-passive, if still writhing, foetal position. Thus restrained they had remained lying on the floor of their padded cell for a further week; not that the concept of a week would have meant anything to either girl by that stage. A further week of spoon feedings, diaper changes and, at least partial, sleep deprivation, and all of it to the constant accompaniment of a simple child's song, gently tinkling in their ears and through their minds.

There had been a time, a short period early on in their confinement, when for while all had gone quiet, peaceful silence had reigned. Lavinia had been cheered, filled with jubilation and renewed defiance. She had been buoyed by the knowledge that she had defeated them, that she had pulled through the ordeal unscathed and defeated them. A girlish giggling had, at length, evolved into a room-filling raucous laughter, initially unrecognized even by its originator. Yet it was her laughter, a strangely perverted laughter, one adorned with a hysterical, maniacal, edge; a laughter that, occurring within earshot of any rational observer, would surely have prompted the gravest of doubts be cast on the applicability of the term ‘unscathed’. Indeed, to the more experienced ear, it would have spoken more of a woman driven close to her breaking point.

And then the laughter had subsided; again silence had reigned, that essential painful silence encountered so rarely in one’s everyday experience and inhabiting so few terrestrial environments save such a room as that within which they had been confined. All had become deathly silent…

Silent, that is, save for the gentle sobbing of the girl known as patient 16S.
It had been an act of sympathy and concern as much as of defiance: “A, a, ar, aaar, are, yyyy y,ou, O,O,O OK” Her almost incoherent stammering barely audible even in that numbing silence. The response had been a voice wracked and stifled with the most primal, most phobic dread.
“N, , n,n,no, ppp, p,pleassse, nn,n,no.”

Such had been the limit of their discourse; so soon had those vibrant xylophone notes begun singing their soft song of soul-torturing sweetness, so soon had that despair returned, so soon had she known the simple fact that she would never again disobey, never again disobey anyone, ever, ever again.

Copyright (c) 2008 Garth. P. ToynTanen


Taken from: Institutionalised Volume 1: Beyond The Stanford Experiment