Thursday, 26 February 2015

Censorship


This blog has 133 members. I’ve made 184 posts which have attracted some 720,730 page views since December 2010 and now Google has decided it's time to come up with a new policy of censorship that threatens not just this blog, but all of us who post ‘adult content’.
Well, I suppose one does have to be seen to be doing something positive in these ‘enlightened’ times.
The problem seems to be that Google doesn’t really know what it’s new policy is, except that it no longer accepts blogs that contain sexually explicit or graphic nude images of video.
So what to do? I think I may simply quit because I cannot face the hassle of trying to understand exactly what and what is not acceptable under Google’s new rules. But quitting irks me.
So maybe I’ll switch to Wordpress or expand my Fetlife profile to include this blog. 
How do others see it?

Saturday, 21 February 2015

Is adult CP effective as real discipline?


Mistress was at work and I was quietly pondering the question over coffee, alone in a café earlier today, ‘is it right for me, as an adult, to be subjected to corporal punishment?’

I’m not talking about indulging in CP purely for erotic pleasure. I’m not even talking about my lifelong ‘need’ to suffer the cane from time to time. I was questioning the validity of corporal punishment as a means of maintaining discipline in a domestic setting. Whether it can be a truly effective method of correction?

The problem in this modern world is that the term ‘corporal punishment’ is associated with the traditional methods of correcting the bad behaviour in children. Yet if we look back over history, corporal punishment was also used in adult relationships as a means of correction too.

And judging by the internet, there’s an awfully large number of couples practicing domestic discipline, where it be male or female head of household.

But surely, I told myself, as adults in an enlightened world we are capable of maintaining our self-discipline? And even if we step out of line, surely a quietly spoken word from our partner should set the issues straight?

Of course, real life isn’t quite like that. Even if our own relationship is a loving, happy and content one, we know that other couples have blazing rows, long drawn-out sulks. Issues that haven’t been dealt with quickly and allowed to fester can cause the kind of resentment to lead to a breakdown in a relationship.

Couples don’t always get on, says one who can speak from experience of a failed marriage. But my relationship with Mistress is fantastic. We do get on. We don’t row. We don’t sulk. So why the need for corporal punishment?

In terms of our own relationship, I think the reality is that no matter how much we love each other, both of us either have attributes that annoy the other or do things that displease. Being naturally submissive (in a loving relationship) and, I think, quite tolerant, I accept any foibles my partner may have. I don’t mean that in a sanctimonious way – more a way of putting Mistress (who has dominant tendencies but is not overtly dominant) on her rightful pedestal where, in my eyes, she can do no wrong.

Mistress is especially tolerant of my ways, and without DD, I don’t think we’d have any issues in our relationship. However, I know from previous experience that given an inch, I take miles so it’s always worried me that if Mistress is happy to put up with my lax ways, my natural instinct will be to keep pushing the boundaries. Then before you know it, that horrible resentment could creep in.

That’s probably overstating the case but, ‘to err is human’ and I confess my guilt as being far from perfect.

But is it right for me to suffer the indignity and pain of corporal punishment in order to control my transgressions? Is it necessary?

I know right from wrong. I know when I’m being lazy, being disrespectful, being over-bearing. But I need that short, sharp shock from time to time to awaken me. What I don’t need, again I speak from experience, is being nagged to death! 

Corporal punishment seems to me to be a very effective corrective procedure in the terms of a female led relationship where you have both agreed to use domestic discipline to settle any issues. It means you have rules in place to confront your partner about an issue from the outset – which ensures a very open and honest dialogue. Rather than cause conflict, it helps bind the relationship and increases the levels of respect and trust between partners.

From the submissive’s side, once there is an acceptance that there is an issue comes the understanding of why it needs correcting. With the power exchange created in an FLR, submitting to one’s partner’s authority means it is very satisfying to know she cares enough about our relationship to discuss my shortcomings so openly - and act upon them in an effective way.

From the dominant’s perspective there’s the gratifying knowledge that there is a mechanism in place to deal with any issues that are causing concern, and that the partner is willing to submit to the necessary correction for the good of the relationship.

Why not then just have the discussion and move on? Because using corporal punishment allows the dominant to exert authority, while at the same time, demonstrating love and care with in helping you improve your behaviour. 

So to answer my own question: ‘is it right for me, as an adult, to be subjected to corporal punishment?’
One hundred per cent. By placing my trust in Mistress if am able to feel emotionally and spiritually secure. In accepting her authority I accept her discipline. To be subjected to corporal punishment is a humiliating, painful experience but my willingness to surrender to Mistress allows me to appreciate an intense corrective power. And with that surrender grows an ever-stronger feeling of respect for her, increasing the bond of love between us.

Does it cure me of my infallibility? Of course not. But it does resolve any issues. And both of us feel emotionally and mentally cleansed by the whole process.

Sunday, 18 January 2015

The folly of expections


Yesterday was one of those days made for the cane.

I’d felt good all day, working around the house, but the moment Mistress walked in from work my mood just changed and I found myself behaving in a nasty, crabby manner.

Such mood swings happen from time to time for no real reason and, when we first started our DD regime, I felt the cane would offer an important benefit in that Mistress could correct me immediately she noticed any behavior change for the worst.

Discipline has been off the radar for a few days and I’d certainly not thought about it all day so I didn’t think I was playing up to get caned – not that I would since Mistress is so devastatingly effective with her methods now. It is something to avoid at all costs.

I’d made sure the chores were done and the evening meal was all planned out so I’d settled down, in my favourite PVC outfit, to watch a film on TV. Maybe it was Mistress coming in demanding a cup of tea and wanting to know when tea was ready but whatever it was, I felt myself becoming resentful.
I got up, made her cuppa, and started the meal. It was quite early so I didn’t expect she’d want service so early – but one should never make such assumptions.

We ate and then Mistress demanded another cuppa. At this point I rebelled, not in a shouty way, but my huffing and puffing was enough to draw a reaction.

“Do you want the whip,” she enquired.

“No Mistress,’ was my emphatic response. And I meant it.

“Well carry on like that and you’ll get it.”

My heart raced as I rushed off to get the cup of tea as ordered, because by this point I expected punishment to be inevitable. My behavior was unacceptable but when I took Mistress her drink she just looked at me as I stood there, expecting a lecture. To my surprise she simply said:  “well, isn’t there some washing up to do.”

As I stood at the sink, I have to admit I felt a little resentful knowing Mistress was sat, as usual relaxing while watching TV. Here was I still working.

It’s strange, I don’t mind this life of service, if Mistress is being, well Mistress. But it didn’t feel like she was showing me any kind of authority, so why was I bothering to be submissive to her?

But then I realized that she had been authoritative. Giving me instruction was enough. It’s just she didn’t have a cane in her hand to enforce the authority.

I wondered if that my mood change was what ever the chemical change is in my head or body that turns on the need to experience painful punishment. That my mood change was in fact a subliminal trigger from deep within myself to encourage punishment from Mistress.

Whatever the psychology of my behavior I have to report that I did not suffer the cane yesterday. Nor today. Mistress has also been very un-Mistress like. I know I should not expect any different.

But that’s only served to increase tension within me. The knock-on effect is that I now feel a good dose of the cane is necessary to  calm me down and get me back on track. In other words I need that painful release. The irony of course is that I will do anything to avoid it, if Mistress should threaten.

But one thing I don’t want to do is deliberately encourage Mistress to punish me. She would see through that and probably defer from using the cane for some time.

Under the circumstances I will try hard to control my crabby thoughts and just do my best to serve. 

Wednesday, 24 December 2014

Reflections on my punishment


Mistress and I discussed the other night’s 60-stroke caning and both agreed it was a good thing for our relationship. It was severe but any kind of discipline was well overdue and we needed something like this to put our DD regime back on track.

It helped Mistress re-assert her authority because to carry out such a disciplinary measure she needed to take complete control and, it allowed me to show my submission to her in the most extreme of situations. Had she wavered in the slightest I could have taken advantage but by maintaining her strict demeanour she showed is prepared to take no nonsense from me.

Mistress surprised me several times that night. Firstly we’d agreed to an evening of pleasurable exchanges – with more of a playful caning. I’ll admit my behavior on the previous two evenings wasn’t good but I was taken aback when it became apparent she intended to punish me.

Punishment, she said, helped reinstate our domestic discipline regime. It was, if you like, a short sharp boot-camp style shock.

The second surprise was the sheer weight she packs with each cane stroke now. I’ve said this before but it seems like she is becoming ever more proficient in her ‘duty.’ 

I’m also surprised by her enthusiasm for being my disciplinarian. She was genuinely frustrated when I’d brought things to halt on the previous night, complaining she was ‘just getting into my rhythm.’

And I was dismayed when, after handing out such an effective 36 strokes, she ordered me back over the bench for the final 24. In the past, she would have baulked at adding to such a heavily marked bottom. I think that showed he willingness to ensure my discipline was complete.

Later in bed that night, we cuddled and I asked her how she felt towards me when she was caning me and she replied: “It was something you needed to remind you of the pledge you took some time ago. I didn’t think we would achieve anything if I let you off lightly.”

But how did Mistress feel about me, wimpering after each stroke? Did she feel sorry for me – or was she happy to see me suffering, I wondered. Did she feel any disdain for this pathetic, wimpering creature before her?

“Not at all. I was focused on what I had to do. I love you dearly but you needed the discipline. I was surprised you took it so well. You still made a fuss, but nothing like I imagined you would. But it had to be done otherwise we’d both still be pussy footing around the issues.”

The issues she mentioned, being me not accepting Mistress’ authority, me not accepting her discipline – and me eroding Mistress’ confidence as a result.

“Perhaps we can treat this as a fresh start," she continued. "At least you now know the extent I am willing to punish you now if you are stupid enough to upset me. I think you can say Domestic Discipline is now reinstated in this house.”

With that statement, Mistress rolled over to sleep leaving me to analyse how I felt. My bottom still burned and throbbed. The cheeks were swollen considerably and felt very bruised and raw.

I surmised that I’d just experienced the most intense caning of my life. Even for a CP enthusiast like I’ve been for years, it wasn’t a pleasant experience but in many ways had been a gratifying one.

One of the most pleasing aspects was Mistress telling me I’d taken it better than she expected. I had tried so hard to control my reactions and emotions. But more important was that we had fully engaged our DD roles and, according to Mistress, had something to work on. I’m happy with that. I thrive on Mistress’ authority. I like the closeness it brings us and it’s great see Mistress thriving on her power.

How do I feel about the ever-present threat of the cane? On this most recent experience I’m ever more conscious of trying to avoid it’s searing sting. But the added zest of a DD lifestyle makes it worthwhile.
I’ll try to tell myself that the next time Mistress is strapping me to the bench.    

Tuesday, 23 December 2014

Punishment completed


Well, now I know what it’s like to be caned without mercy. To be taken way beyond one’s limits. To be left wimpering, sweating and shaking but nevertheless, elated to have finally overcome a hurdle that I’d been struggling to clear for many weeks now.

My fantasy had been for a nice evening of kisses and cuddles with Mistress and I wrapped in pvc and rubber. There would be a 60-stroke session with the cane at some point and I expected it to hurt, but it would be more play than punishment I told myself – a birthday celebration with a bit of festive revelry we could both indulge in as a year of work came to an end.

Be careful what you wish for. Our planned evening of indulgence was abandoned when family called to say they’d be dropping by. Mistress gave me a quick dozen cane strokes before we went to bed but I couldn’t take the second six, due to not being secured.

We tried again the next night but we’ve changed out room around and the bench didn’t fit right between other furniture. When we started the caning it felt like I was going to topple over with the bench. We abandoned after another dozen.

Mistress was so frustrated and blamed me for wimping out. Which, I hate to admit, was the truth. I couldn’t face it at the rate she was applying the rod. We could have sorted it out there and then but I made such a fuss about feeling unsafe that Mistress eventually told me to pack the equipment away.
She gave me one more chance on Sunday and told me to have everything set up when she arrived home late in the afternoon from a shopping trip with a friend.

Our caning bench is two stools, one tall, one small, which we bind together when neded, but it’s far from ideal when I start to writhe around. It has to jammed up against a chair and setee so I spent the afternoon making sure everything was secure for one last go. 

Mistress adopted the strictest, no nonsense attitude I’ve ever experienced as soon as she arrived home and, if I’m honest, I was quite unnerved – more so when she told me to get ready for punishment.
It was clear there was going to be none of the playful games I’d fantasised about so by the time I’d been secured over the bench I was extremely nervous.

I had every right to be. From the outset it was obvious Mistress was determined to treat this as corrective therapy. I’ve never known her cane so hard. I’ve said that before, but each stroke left a fiercely hot stinging in my bottom that hadn’t even begun to fade before the next lash.

By 12 I was in the same state as usual. It felt like all 12 had been laid on the same spot, but probably only the last eight or nine had. If you’ve ever experience that, you’ll know how much that can hurt.
I was wimpering for it to stop. Mistress did allow maybe two minutes before the next 12. It wasn’t long enough. Somehow I didn’t scream but I was struggling close to tears. The only brief moment I recall taking my mind off the pain was when I was writhing around and from the upside down position of my head, caught a glimpse of Mistress. All I could see were her legs, wide apart, and her hips swiveling as she put every ounce of power into a stroke. I wanted to watch more but the instant the pain from that swipe landed I closed my eyes to try and block out what was happening.

The last 12 were pure agony. I got through them but I was in a desperate state, with no idea how I’d survived 24 more.

I go into a panic mode is such situations and start to imagine the damage to my bottom. It felt so swollen, such a huge target and was stinging so badly I thought the flesh had been stripped off and blood was running down the back of my legs. I really felt something dribbling. It must have been sweat because Mistress didn’t break the flesh once.

I heard her put the cane down – it rattled that dry rattle against the others – and I expected a change of cane but the next second I felt her hot breath on my face as she whispered, ‘That should do you until after you’ve served dinner,” and proceeded to release me from my bonds.

I prepared dinner and we ate in a totally normal, if very slightly tense, atmosphere like nothing had happened – apart from me finding it very painful to sit down. That’s was another first. In all my years of suffering the cane, ‘being caned till you can’t sit down,’ happened to me.

We watched TV for about an hour then Mistress said, “I think it’s time, don’t you? We still have 24 strokes left. Get ready.”

I did exactly as told and was strapped into place again. This I was dreading. My bottom was already so sore. I did well to dread. The first batch of 12 was hell. I felt sick. Dizzy. If I thought the first 36 were bad, then this was worse. Despite that, I thought I took them better though. I knew I’d not made so much noise, though I could feel perspiration rolling down my face – and my chest on the leather topped stool felt damp – which I assumed was me sweating.

For the last 12 Mistress seemed to back off a little. The first six stung but lacked the bite of the others. Then she gave me six rapid fire stroke to finish which had me yelping again. And then it was over. 
Sixty strokes. I would never had thought it possible a couple of days earlier but we had got through it at last.



After 60 strokes. The other marks were caused by several hours before punishment in PVC pants