The Shortest of Short Updates

Hi folks, added another chapter to the book yesterday, though it needs a little more work. Even so, at least it feels a little closer to completion now. I have a huge chunk to deal with next - a file that amounts to around 60 - 64 pages and that will push the book to just over 200 pages once placed. How to distribute this piece will be the problem here - its structure as it stands does not naturally lend itself to insertion as a standalone chapter in its own right; it will have to be split up in some manner. On another tack: after a rock-solid month of teetotalism I let loose a little last Sunday - well not such a little. In my defense I do have to point out - as I have previously - that I do have an allergy to dogs and cats; and my aunt has a dog. Because of that I often have to hang around in the garden or outside the house for long periods when visiting - and of course at this festive time of year the temptation is to wander around the local village and sample the wares of the local alehouses. One of the said establishments proved able to provide an enticing tipple indeed - 'Green King Special Reserve' at 6.7% alcohol by volume. Well, after a full month of abstainance the outcome was preordained from the start - basically I have succeeded in alienating a large and important section of my family.

On yet another tack: All that 'adoption' stuff from those old Blushes magazine reader's letters pages was brought to mind recently on watching with one of my kids a CBBC program called 'Jinx'. The central actress is called Amber Beattie - she's 17 - 18 so check her out on the net and think a little. Let your imagination roam a little! The character she plays - ironically, considering my moans of late - is named, Lulu! She has that sort of girl-next-door coquettish doe-eyed charm that just demands exploitative cruelty. This girl is bubbly, cheerful , winning / winsome - all those aspects one would want to curb with the imposition of a regime of strict discipline . One look and you'd just have to put her into a restrictive , stiff-collared school uniform. By the by _ today I am in Soho, in a pub known as The Coach and Horses - look it up if you have the time; it is idiosyncratic to put it mildly!

That! Picture and Lulu Woes

OK: well, I suppose I should have been writing rather than trawling around the Internet but I just had to find that deportment training photo I went on about last time. I have to admit to failure on that count. All that time was not squandered fruitlessly, though: I did in the process come across a delightful little drawing from the pencil of the wondrous Mr Julian Guile; complete with backboard, book balanced on head, strict mistress or institution matron with cane in hand and sizzling welts much evident across the miscreant’s naked behind. There is of course also the obligatory gloating lecherous old boy seated and looking on - all the better to add to the pretty young thing's gall! To see it, though, you have the look back to yesterday's entry, halfway down on the right where I have just this minute plonked it. As for the central subject of my quest, well here it is; much to my exasperation I had to resort to scanning it in from an old printout. Doubtless the original lies buried somewhere within the depths of my computer's somewhat labyrinthine file system somewhere, but where it might have originated from all now have no idea. Perhaps someone out there can tell me so that I might view the rest of the set (if there is one), it certainly looks promising!

Perhaps there is someone out there too who can tell me what exactly (if anything) is going on with Lulu these days (the self publishing site not the ‘well loved multi-talented Scottish singer’ of that name). Sales have fallen through the floor over the last couple of months to such an extent that, in the month of December, to date neither of the two volumes that so far go to makeup the INSTITUTIONALISED series have sold any copies or downloads at whatsoever. There have been a couple of lovely encouraging reviews left on the Amazon e-book site which have lifted my spirits of late and for which I am eternally grateful but it is extraordinarily dispiriting to see sales dry up in their entirety in Lulu. The last time this happened (and I had been blissfully unaware as I hadn't checked for some time) it was due to something that Lulu had done that had resulted in my titles (and those of others presumably, unless there was something personal bout it) being left out of search results and for which they apologised by e-mail. Whether something similar is going on I have no idea as I certainly don't have the time at the moment to poke and prod around d their site at the moment which can be frustratingly slow to respond at times.

Now, as was the two pictures are just mentioned I've also added recently a couple of links to the ‘Useful Resources’ list over there in the right-hand sidebar. The Wheelchair Zone has quite an interesting story section if you spend a little trouble to rummage around it. I've also added links the ‘British Caning Society’ (listed under ‘B’ for British, this one) which hosts an intriguing discussion board amongst other things (how about mentioning my stuff, if you like it - or even if you don't - it all helps!) and to Corset Heaven.com. That's about it for now; see y’all later!

Corsets, Backboards and Deportment Training for Recalcitrant Young Ladies

One of the greatest influences on my writing has been the publications, journals and fiction hailing from the Victorian era (or, I suspect, purporting to in some instances). Below are a couple of transcripts of page scans that I recently came across on my travels across the web taken from the correspondence pages of a journal entitled ‘The Family Doctor’, a publication of the late nineteenth century. I suppose it is the second letter that really hits the spot - that atmosphere one senses, reading between the lines, of domination and the curbing of the spirit. Clearly much more has been done than merely putting the pair of teenagers in corsets - one senses there has been a battle of wills and what is observed is the aftereffect of a crushing defeat . Reading through brought my mind to mull over another subject much discussed in that era, one even more amenable to inclusion in any disciplinary and obedience training regime one might devise that also incorporates corporal punishment: deportment training. Tightly-laced boned corsets, backboards, the cane or riding switch and deportment training seem in my mind to go together seamlessly. This still from Lupus Pictures seems to succeed in summing up all of that in that one shot. Actually I have an even more apt pictorial example somewhere but can’t seen to be able to put my hands on it at present. But I have it stashed away as hard copy so if it comes to it I can always scan the printout.

CORRESPONDENCE.
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CORSET DISCIPLINE
LETTERS TO THE EDITOR OF THE FAMILY DOCTOR

Our eldest girl, aged nineteen, wears a backboard of very old pattern, originally made for her mother when at school in Bath. It consists of a flat plate of metal, somewhat pear-shaped. that extends from the nape of the neck downwards to the loins, and across from shoulder to shoulder--covering the back exactly, in fact, and hollowed to fit the figure snugly. This is strapped closely to the body by broad shoulder straps (comfortably padded, and arranged to buckle in the centre of the back out of the wearer's reach) and a broad leather waist-belt, also padded and buckled behind. The backplate is covered with blue leather, and when properly fixed is immovable upon the body, partially because the waist-belt is shaped to cover and closely embrace the hips. In the centre of the backplate is a small brass box somewhat like a watch, through which slides a vertical rod carrying at its upper end the "collar"--really the most useful part of the apparatus. Inside the brass box is a lock which fixes the vertical rod and collar at any desired height; and in front of the collar is another minute lock to prevent the chin being unlawfully released! All the locks and straps. I must say, have been renewed several time? but the backboard and collar are just as my wife wore them, and their beautifully chased or engraved bright portions are still perfect.
My second daughter wears an appliance similar to this, with the addition of two hooks or padded crutches, which come from the back under her arm­pits, and have smaller shoulder straps to keep the arms in position therein. This, I feel sure, makes the elevation of the chest more complete. and avoids the slight chafing caused by shoulder straps passing under the armpits.
The backboard worn by our youngest daughter is similar to the last in pattern, but the back is of polished wood (easily renewed as she grows), and the staff and collar are screwed at a fixed height to the wood direct. This does not allow her the freedom at her desk that her elder sisters gain by having their collars lowered, but by the time she is ready to be fitted with the more graceful and permanent steel backboard her fixed collar will have enforced that erect carriage of the head and neck that is so ample a repayment for the present discomfort.

The "stocks " are simply oblong boxes of polished wood, in which the two feet are placed heel to heel, and the toes turned outward. A lid then slides in from each end, having two half-round apertures to em brace the ankles. These lids have a lock at their point of contact in their centre which effectually pre­vents the withdrawal of the feet during the required period of discipline.

These appliances may sound very barbarous to those who favour the ungainly slouching habits far too common nowadays, but by their aid the following round of daily exercise has blessed me with three of the most graceful and, I will say with truth, healthy girls to be found in England. Their daily life is about as follows :--On rising, each is strapped to her backboard, the youngest, of course, having her collar, and consequently her chin, at a very high level, the two elder having theirs only half high, but all, never­theless, securely locked. After breakfast, at 8 a.m., the collars are raised to an equal height, and all, including their governess, have amusement in the garden, coming into the schoolroom about nine. Lessons proceed until luncheon, after which comes a period-about one and a half hours--of walking drill and calisthenics, in which is added to the ordinary backboard a long one reaching across the shoulders from wrist to wrist, and keeping the elbows well behind. After drill the three collars are removed entirely, and, with their backboards concealed by their ordinary dresses, all three girls go out to spend an afternoon in the park or upon the heath. For dinner the collars are again fixed, and we dine in happy fellowship, the girls afterwards standing in their stocks, with the collars elevated and the long backboards across their shoulders, for about two hours during the evening.

It may interest some of your readers to know that my wife is in the habit of using several other appliances, and of enforcing many, perhaps irksome, postures at drill with the ultimate object of perfection in view; but of these I shall be pleased to write if you can spare the space.

Concluding this lengthy letter, I may say that both pretty heels and small corsets count among her system of rewards. All our girls are confirmed wearers of night stays, in addition to what may be new to your readers--i.e., finger-nail corsets.--Believe me, Sir, yours truly, CARL.

P.S.--I shall be pleased to reply to inquirers through the FAMILY DOCTOR if you will permit, but do not desire private correspondence.
Camden Town, N.W (Sept 28 1889).

TO THE EDITOR OF THE FAMILY DOCTOR.

SIR,-I can quite endorse the opinion of several of your correspondents advocating corset discipline in the management of refractory children. A lady friend of mine has two daughters aged fifteen and sixteen with whom it has proved a complete success. They are both members of the tennis club to which I belong, and used to be much remarked by their rough behaviour, as they played more like school­boys than young ladies. Their mother was advised to make them wear their stays while they played, instead of leaving them off, as they usually did; but she did more than this, by having them fitted with very long, heavily-boned stays, with stiff, broad busks, which, of course, quite prevented stooping, besides being very uncomfortable. They were laced very tightly. when they next appeared, and I never saw girls so much improved, for they were now well behaved young ladies. Their figures were slim­waisted, and the lacing was so effective that, playing or sitting, they were obliged to keep erect. Their hands were encased in long, well-fitting kid gloves, which they were not allowed to remove. They now played a quiet, lady-like game, and looked very pretty and graceful, being laced so tightly that ungainly movements were impossible. Their mother says she finds this means of restraint is very beneficial, as it enforces patience and submission. When there is any need for punishing either of them, it is easily done by tightening the culprit's lace so as to entail an extra degree of discomfort as discipline, as well as improving her figure and carriage. These girls never know now what it is to be without con­stant pressure and restraint, for at night their already slender waists on being released from their day corsets are immediately enclosed in others having flexible busks and laced in an inch smaller than before. Their hands are kept constantly gloved both day and night in very tight kid, and fastened by bracelets to prevent them being removed, and are becoming beautifully white in consequence. (Aug 31 1889 )

A Couple of Blushes Reader's Letters Scans

Hi, as it is the weekend and I am away from home I wouldn't ordinarily produce a blog posting but it just so happens I have a few minutes on my hands and I just realised I have a few of those Blushes Magazine reader's letters pages scans that were kindly sent in by Alan some time ago here with me stashed on a data stick. I am currently hard at it putting together the introductory and final chapters of the new book, much of the middle being now in place. As you probably know by now, I am also beginning to mess around with some cover design ideas - some preliminary versions of which I may share with you next time.

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Many thanks to those of you who pointed out the spelling error in the title of my last posting (now corrected) and also that I'd posted the same picture back in September. Someone asked if there were more of the same set - well there are, posted way back and now languishing in the blog archive some place; just type the search terms: 'gymslip', 'school uniform' or 'adult school uniform' into the site search facility box over in the right hand sidebar.

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Meanwhile: you have seen an example of something I consider close to the perfect school uniform (or at least a good starting point, perhaps with the addition of a high, stiff 'Eaton-style collar' for example) but I'm curious as to your ideas - any takers?

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Let's hear about your design ideas, restrictive petty rules, punishments and the devilish torments you would inflict and impose given a free hand.

Best Gymslip Design of all Time? You Tell Me

Is it just me that thinks so, or is this the finest design of gymslip ever produced or even conceived of when it comes to setting apart a young lady from her peers as an aid to developing the correct mindset to accept the imposition of strict and restrictive discipline - discuss. (I can’t say I entirely approve of the knickers though.) Yes I know you’ve seen pics from this set before on this site, but not this particular shot I think (I hope); I’ve just come upon it. Now for the real reason for this post (not that I am not serious about hearing your points of view / ideas / designs – yeah, why not designs?):

A couple of days ago I mentioned setting up a series of Dropbox albums to share various stuff I have downloaded off the web over the years and also that I have scanned from my various collections of spanking and domination orientated stuff and various materials that have informed the descriptions in my books. Part of the impetus for this was having the album containing my collection of the spanking and D/S art work of Hobbs / Thorn (there is some contention over the true artist’s identity) deleted by those well-meaning folk at PicasaWeb and my desire to circumvent future strife.

Well, as an experiment I have now created a folder of the Hobbs / Thorn artwork on Dropbox. I have created an entirely new listing category in the right-hand sidebar to hold links to future Dropbox albums if the trial works out. It may well be that I’ll have to cycle these albums from time to time to work through my collection due to limited storage space. Dropbox has a limit of 2 GB on their free subscription service and I am also using it to back-up my writing and book cover artwork. However one way of working around this to free up more space would be for me to set up another Dropbox account under my everyday name for backup purposes. I’m going to see how well this works out first and how popular - or otherwise - it proves to be, so I’ll be looking for feedback (hint, hint). Remember to check the Dropbox album list in the sidebar (just below the ‘Spanking Artwork Albums’ list) from time to time as I will be adding to it when I have time but I may not always have sufficient time to tell you in a blog entry. Remember too that much will be adult content, especially the Thorn / Hobbs stuff!

I forgot to put in links in my last posting to the two sites I spotlighted. This I have now rectified – sorry for any inconvenience / frustration caused. I have also added a link in the ‘Useful Resources’ list situated in the sidebar to a source of ‘forced exercise’ photos on Tribes.net for all those that appreciate such things (click to visit or see sidebar).

Toilet-Seat Spanking Humiliation, A Couple of Blogs to Explore and Some PicasaWeb Album Additions

You are probably wondering where I’ve been to again, it being close to a week since my last update. Well I had planned one for last Friday or Saturday but the best laid plans… well, more about that later, for those that are interested (see below). Harking back to that ‘Toilet Seats and Domestic Discipline’ thing I wrote up on Sunday 21st November, I remembered seeing a really nice suitable photo set somewhere out there in Web-Land once, featuring the absolutely edible Rosaleen young (I think – though I might be wrong). I think it realy sums up the posibilities inherent in the situation being discussed - think institutional-style discipline intorduced in the home environment. So on Friday I did a little trawling around and here it is (left). Of course while out hunting, as is often the case, I got sidetracked by a couple of interesting blogs.

The first isn’t actual strictly speaking a Blog at all as such, other than in name, as I can’t link to it via my blog listings and so you can find it listed under ‘Useful Resources’ in the right-hand sidebar or click on its name here (highlighted in blue). Entitled; Michael Masterson’s The Spanking Blog it is a spanking photo studio site with loads of free spanking galleries for you to investigate (I didn’t have time myself on my visit – but I’m going back later). The other I came across was Spanking Porn-blog which can be found in the sidebar blog listing in the conventional manner. You can also go see it for yourself directly from here, as above.

The other two pics are just gratuitous, yet stimulating, examples of spanking art I came across while reorganizing my files recently – I hope I haven’t posted them before; my apologies if I have. The first (right) is by ‘Walldo’, the other I don’t know – perhaps someone out there can tell me as I’d like to see some more!

Yesterday I got stuck working away from home, so could work on the book but had no WiFi access for the day. Today I’m hard at it once again and even I hope to do a little prelim work on the design of the book cover later – something that excites me greatly!

I was actually quite industrious yesterday – despite being away from home - and very nearly finished the last chapter of the new book, which I have now put in place in book form (although I shall have to do a little more to it shortly, when I finish this). Despite this and despite returning home late (near midnight) I managed to update my PicasaWeb albums (right-hand sidebar) adding more scanned catalogue pics to the 1960s – 1970s Alexandra workwear album and creating a whole new album entitled Prison Uniforms that concentrates on prison uniform dresses. The problem regarding PicasaWeb deleting certain spanking art folders from my assemblage some time ago – notably the work of Hobbs / Thorn I am working on circumventing by way of creating a public DropBox folder that I shall then post a link to here. If that works, and within the limitations of the storage space available, I shall create folders of all sorts of scanned and / or downloaded stuff that has inspired and fired me up over the years for you to explore and that I have archived.

It's bloody snowing here now, freezing - I thought global warming was supposed to take care of all that. The good news is that it helps put me off going to the pub for a while. I'm saving that up for closer to Christmas. Not Christmas itself, though, as my other half doesn't drink much and so I try to abstain and instead get my kicks by going for food that I would not ordinarily allow myself. We are going to be off to a nice (I hope) hotel in Ascot, where the famous Royal Ascot horse race course is and not far from Windsor and the Thames; might even try a little fishing on Boxing Day.

Or a more negative note: I have a chest infection that has gone on for weeks and that seems to gradually ease off only to worsen again after each visit to the gym. The upside (I suppose) is that, what with the inclement weather and my hacking cough, I am confined to the home today and so after a brief blog update will be hopefully getting a lot done towards getting this book thing finished.

On the subject of the blog: I went away for the weekend to the ‘Other Half's’ place - as always - and although it would be difficult to do much towards finishing the book while there I nevertheless intended to get a blog update posted. Accordingly I took all source materials I would need with me on a data stick.

I arrived to find a hysterical woman journalist / lecturer (namely 'The Other Half') and a computer that had fallen over and that now displayed unblinkingly the dreaded Windows blue screen, a hole batch of hexadecimal memory addresses and error codes and the information that it had ''performed a dump - mmm, nice! (a little too much information there, on all sorts of levels - taking a 'dump' can have a whole different meaning here in London). She had tried to transfer some work she had completed onto a data stick... and down it had gone - just like that. Further investigation showed the hard drive to be so full as to barely allow Windows to operate (she only has 512 Mb of RAM). I used the Windows disk cleanup utility, compressed some files and off it went again... only to fail to download and install a Windows update a few hours later. The cause? Insufficient disk space - the free space was down to a couple of hundred megabytes again. Interestingly, thinking back I seemed to recall that earlier in the year when last I had checked there had been about 15 Gb of free space on that drive, and she only deals in text , a few still pics and PowerPoint presentations, things like that and nothing flash either. Obviously I suspected a virus of some flavour. I trawled through the hard drive looking for some overly enormous usage some place - and found it! Symantic Norton antivirus: in the programs, common, directory a directory labeled Symantic was 15Gb in size! Closer inspection showed the culprit to be the virus signatures folder which was bulging at the seams with 12.8 Gb of signatures, temp files and the rest.

To cut a long story short; the thing seemed unstoppable. I would tell it to empty its temp cache, and it would - only to fill it up again almost immediately. I reduced the disc space allowed for Norton's temp files, but to no avail. Then, while still investigating the problem and having again freed up disc space by compressing old files, Norton proudly announced that it was trying to update and would I kindly make more disk space available to it on the hard drive as it was having a little difficulty (or words ti that effect)... Ahhhh! Poor thing!

That was it: I knew then it had to die... Die!... DIE!!!! ARRRGH! Not so easy to kill off though - it is an antivirus program after all! I had first to stop it loading on start up it turned out. So off I went to the registry and pulled out its plug. Then it was back to the Windows Add / Remove utility, a gun to its head BANG it was dispatched.

I'd always hated Norton, right from the start. It took up too much memory and would slow her ancient (2002) computer to a snail's pace. To be honest, though; originally her machine had run quite happily with 256 Mb RAM - even with Norton - until she'd had added the latest version of Norton, a few years back. Then it had ground practically to a standstill and a little investigation soon showed that Norton itself was taking up 128 Mb for its own use. Thus I upped the memory to 512 Mb for her (she didn't want to spend much - she's of Scottish ancestry; I'm sure you understand. Ha! Ha! No offence meant to any of you from the other side of The Wall, you must understand – that of Hadrian's constructing of course). I have now replaced Norton with Avast, which is the antivirus I run here, cleaned up the registry and optimized Windows - and of course defragged the hard drive (which is a tale in of itself - never bother with the Windows XP defragmenter tool is my advice; it's crap, deeply crap!). Now her antique machine is razor sharp (for its vintage). Of course it lacks the punch of my brace of 10,000 RPM Raptors configured in RAID 0 (though strictly speaking that shouldn't be called RAID at all as neither drive is redundant - far from it). Bye for now!

The New Book - A Short Clip

Hi Folks! Bright and sunny today (but cold-ish)... so I am bright and sunny - hurrah! I have been making good progress filling in the gaps and reorganising the story flow of the new book (I've still not got a sensible title though!). I thought you might like a short clip, so here we go. The whole thing will need proofreading at some stage so there may well be typos, but see if it whets your appetite - or not (don't be shy!).

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An Extract

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Even with the soft vinyl inner layer of the hospital-issue pyjama bottoms, and the close-fitting plastic incontinence underpants she had on beneath, the thin flannelette did little to ameliorate the discomfort of the hard wooden seat – already her buttocks were going numb, which ironically only served to make the griddle pattern of thin cane wheals crisscrossing her bottom throb all the more. No longer in contact with the ground, the naked soles of her feet now throbbed too, in the simple rhythm of her pulse. It was another irony; whilst her feet bore her weight, the aftermath of the doctor’s martinet consisted of little more than a fiery, overall burning sensation. Once seated, with her legs swept back beneath the chair and her hobbled ankles fastened by way of their leather restraint cuffs to two short lengths of chain that hung down from beneath the seat, it felt as if dozens of red-hot hooks were embedded in the undersides of her feet and were tugging rhythmically downwards in unison. Taken together these reminiscences of the cane and of the martinet were what had been responsible for the girl cutting herself off in mid-flow and also for the sudden contrite, apologetic retraction that had so quickly followed.
It was humiliating, but it was better than suffering a repeat performance. Besides, it was fear of humiliation, in a manner of speaking, that had earned her the six cuts of the cane across her bare behind and the twelve slashes of the multi-tongued martinet across the sole of each foot in the first place. Indeed, in a way the retribution, correction - call it what you will - had not been entirely unrelated to her tirade; it never was. The very best way to ensure receiving the attention of the doctor's supple length of rattan was to speak of being a volunteer behavioural research subject or to protest against the validity of any part of the doctor's diagnosis. But that hadn't been the cause on this occasion, not directly at any rate.
The doctor was fond of setting impositions to fill her time when confined to the tiny anteroom that had now become her home - to keep her mind active, the doctor said. In some ways she almost felt as though she should be grateful, after all, there was no window and once the heavy, padded, outer door had been shut, closing off the doctor's office from the prison-cell-like floor-to-ceiling hinged array of vertical steel bars that kept her secure, the silence was very nearly perfect. In fact the only thing that tarnished that perfection was the rushing-hiss of white noise - and that, she knew, was only there to make absolutely certain that her isolation was complete. Even that, though, was not entirely the truth; there were times, if she had been perhaps particularly stubborn, when that background mush would be accompanied by an insistent and repetitive beeping. It was not particularly loud, just an irritating little bleep that would constantly interrupt a her train of thought and that seemed to come at irregular intervals like a sort of modern electronic take on the Chinese water torture until she would find herself incapable of concentrating on anything other than trying to predict the next bleep.
On this occasion she had been set the imposition of writing an essay; 'How I Benefit from Being Kept in Long-term Residential Psychiatric Care '. But how was she supposed to write something like that, how could she? And then there was that adjective included in the title - 'Long-term' - that was surely there purely to increase her feeling of hopelessness. And it worked - she had put pen to paper, carefully copied out the title in the copperplate hand that was always demanded, then she had simply sat staring at it while weeping uncontrollably until the time allocated had run out.
Staring at her reflection in the mirror, at least one thing the doctor had just said rang true to the girl, the part about her looking like a prison-camp waif. The double chin was anything but waiflike, and the pyjamas she was dressed in were definitely not quite as baggy as they had once been - but with their broad green and white stripes and soulless, shapeless design, what else did they look like other than a prison-camp uniform? Crestfallen, she looked away, tears welling.