Following on
from the last posting I made before going off to sun myself on the Greek island
of Rhodes a visitor signing himself ‘Vlad’ has pointed out that the pics I
pasted are of Czech origin rather than Russian, as I stated. (Hi Vlad! And
thanks for your input - much appreciated!).
Because in preparing my response I found I had
gone off on a tangent (I’d had a few beers), leading to my using it as an
excuse to introduce some of the ideas behind the new book I have been working
on, I decided to post the whole response here rather than as a comment.
Yeah, those
scenes are indeed taken from one of the 'Stalin' films as ‘Vlad’ suggests -
'Stalin 3', I think (see today's pic for another couple of scenes from the film
I've managed to unearth!). But no, I
didn't realise Lupus Movies (Lupus Films is something different entirely) and
RGE are actually Czech companies; one learns something new every day! I just always assumed they were Russian
companies based on the story lines / costumes / settings. One thing's for
certain; their films and plots are some of the most imaginative I have come
across on the internet. For example the
plot of the aforementioned 'Stalin 3' incorporates a psychologist /
psychiatrist (a woman, too, I am given to understand - now, where have you come
across that before?). It is a pity that
the psychologist / psychiatrist is not directly involved in the scenario
itself, her involvement being restricted to providing an analysis of the
situation as evidence at a later date.
Now, a caning or
three is all well and good, but when a psychologist is involved - someone who
can really get in to a young woman's head - it introduces a whole different
dimension. I mean: for years I have been
fascinated by the psychological impact of the imposition of strict discipline,
petty rules and restrictions, humiliating and belittling uniforms and all the
rest on the female psyche, ever since I read a 'reader's letter' in the pages
of Janus magazine in fact. That missive
strummed my imagination, made me wonder:: What if a regime were to be
tailor-made to maximise that effect, tailored to really get to the individual
girl, really get in to her head? And
Lupus Movies / RGE seem to have grasped that principle in handfuls – I only
wish, as I’ve said before, I hosted them as an affiliates here and on my
website, BEYOND THE BARRED WNDOW.
Now; ‘Vlad’
asked whether I planned to ever follow up on the hint he says I left at the end
of ‘Alice’ volume one regarding putting the girl’s aunt in diapers as well as
the girl herself.. Someone else has
mentioned this too. But do you
know? I had not really been aware I had
made such a hint – I shall have to re-read it and see. How embarrassing? It was certainly not my intention at the time
to go down that route; indeed, the ‘turning of the tables’ type of storyline is
perhaps my personal least favourite. But
having said that: my latest, as yet unpublished, work does indeed incorporate a
certain aspect of that sort of topsy-turvy ‘table-turning’ plotline. And it is topsy-turvy in more ways than one!
Without giving
too much away, I can tell you this:
Given that an individual’s sexuality is not set in stone – a ternate
which was fondly adhered to within certain psychotherapy circles in the 1950s –
1960s (the era within which the tale is set) – what happens when a young lad -
experiencing certain ‘relationship issues’ with his naïve sheltered young
squeeze – falls in to the clutches of a darkly misguided therapist, a naturally
overbearing woman possessed of the professional opinion that the seat of all
his trials and tribulations is what she sees as his ‘unacknowledged latent
homosexuality’? What happens, then, when
she decides the way forward with her patient is to ‘encourage’ the reluctant,
sheltered, lad to face up to his sexual demons (whether all within her mind or
part of his self-denied reality is left up to the reader)?
Anybody who has
ever read any of my stuff will know that plausibility is my watchword, is
important to me. And that is
particularly the case when it comes down to the thorny question of how one
might get the average confrontational teenager the bend for the cane. And yet in this tale the cane is never far
from the young lad’s toned bottom (an immature young chap, in his late teens or
early twenties; his age is deliberately left ambiguous). Now, I personally have had an argumentative
girl in her late teens bend, grasping her ankles, for the cane; so I know it
can be done; but it requires what I would call ‘leverage’. And ‘leverage’ is
what your average ‘spanked for smoking behind the bike shed’ type of tale
rarely (or perhaps just barely) has. Basically it comes down to this: Any
threat (or consequence) is only as potent as some other, even more dreaded
consequence or set of consequences lurking behind it. The alcoholic or the drug addict is thus
easily controlled once one has gained control over the source of their
dependency.
In terms of mine
and my ex-wife’s young charge, Penny, way back in the 1980s, a naïve and
sheltered late teen I first encountered in her first employment as a children’s
nanny, in the stead of substance addiction one could read dependency on those
she saw as ‘in loco parentis’. Put
another way, the leverage was the girl’s own insecurity; she could buckle under
the disciplinary regime of the household, or she could leave. The choice was always hers… or so she
thought! Even when she left us –
breaking away, I guess she would have seen it as – it was under our (or rather,
my wife’s) terms: My darling wife (oh,
what a handful!) had engineered a meeting with a hard-handed middle-aged
Suffolk farmer - to whom (in so far as I am aware) the girl is still, to this
day, espoused, despite their ever-widening age gap – whose interest in the
corporal punishment and discipline of young women of Penny’s age was at the
time quite well known… And the rest is history as they say.
Going back to the
(entirely fictional) situation involving of the young chap of my tale, one must
also remember the historical context.
The story is deliberately set in the early 60s, way before the
parliamentary act which was to make homosexual acts between consenting adults
legal in the United Kingdom (in 1967 I believe). At the time in which the story is set
homosexuality could lead to public disgrace, ruin and imprisonment (as it
famously had for Oscar Wilde) and so evidence gained of such activity was a
common tool of the blackmailer.
The reader is
also asked to recall that there were those at the time (as there still are,
apparently) – health professionals among them – who were of the opinion that
homosexuality was a pathological aberration which therefor could be tackled as
might any other form of pathology; i.e. a ‘cure’ might be sought. And so a hotchpotch of ethically dubious
clinical trials and studies were flung together with the aim of exploring the
various pathways to a ‘cure’, these generally revolving around attempts to
modulate or change the subject’s sexuality through some variation or other of
Pavlovian classical conditioning.
Now our
unfortunate young wretch is most definitely NOT what in the 1960s might have
been referred to as a ‘bum boy’ or ‘queer’ or – more delicately – a ‘Mary-Anne’
or ‘Daphne’, quite the contrary in fact.
He is decidedly sexually active - and in a very heterosexual manner -
albeit generally as a solitary pursuit.
He has never so much as entertained even a glimmer of a homoerotic
notion in his life; or if he has, he hasn’t recognised it as such at any
conscious level. Yes, he has a
girlfriend – but he has also had something of a sheltered upbringing; and it is
around the girlfriend all his troubles revolve; he can’t ‘make it’ with her, to
her satisfaction; if anything he gets TOO excited, basically it all ends too
prematurely for his beau. And so he has
sought the help of a therapist. But that
therapist, a woman who turns out to be a sort of cross between a
psychotherapist and a professional dominatrix
– Miss Swanley – has certain agenda of her own, agenda which centre on
her interest in the driving forces behind the development and evolution of an
individual’s sexuality and gender identity.
True, the
unfortunate chap may never have considered anything of a homoerotic nature, but
that is not to say that evidence to the contrary can’t be dredged up. A diary or confession will do; and the cane
can be a potent persuader in the right hands.
And once Miss Swanley has sufficient written proof… and taken a few
photographs as a bit of extra coercive insurance…