Shameless
We always knew that Veronica had it in her! Fans of the wonderful comedy drama series Shameless might like to check out the closing vignette of the first episode of the third series. It's currently available on Virgin's TV On Demand service.
Normality
Sometimes I wish that I could be
A figure of normality.
A normal man with normal life,
With normal kids and normal wife.
I’d drive around in this year’s car,
From supermarket to soulless bar.
I’d watch Top Gear and think it great.
On Fridays I would stay up late,
Just to midnight, you understand,
Nothing crazy or too grand.
Kiss the wife and shag the mistress.
Always plan ahead for Christmas.
Bank hols I’d spend in B&Q,
And finding little jobs to do,
Around my neat suburban house,
To please my neat suburban spouse.
Spend evenings at the multiplex.
I’d have no truck with kinky sex.
Missionary every time I’d play,
Anything else might turn me gay.
I’d try things once but not inhale,
Have no friends who’ve been in jail.
I’d wear a big fat chunky watch.
Be a connoisseur of mid-price Scotch.
I’d like big tits and read The Sun
But Christ! Where would I find my fun?
As my thoughts stray down this junction,
I thank the Lord for my dysfunction.
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Cream of the Crop
The other day, I had my first ever taste of a riding crop. It’s not my usual choice of implement, I have a big thing for canes and slippers, but there’s nothing wrong in trying something different once in a while.
It was a suitably invigorating experience. My first reaction was “Christ! This thing hurts!” When it’s used rapidly, it’s absolutely excruciating.
We’d left the TV on and there, in the background, I could hear someone talking about fetishes. “People with fetishes are so lucky,” the man on the telly was saying, “there’s so much more for them to experience.”
“Lucky?” I wondered, as the infernal thing bit into me again. “Are you sure?” Well, yes, I was rather enjoying myself, but very much in that “I’m not too sure how much more of this I can take” fashion. There are times when you have to ask yourself if you really do what you do for pleasure. The endorphins may well have been flying but there was no way of getting round the fact that it was extremely painful.
Half an hour later, I was a sore but happy little soul as Milady put me across her knee and rounded things off with a short but hard hand-spanking that was absolutely delicious on top of the cropping. All was rather well with the world.
It didn’t take too long for a slight hint of anti-climax to creep in, though. As much as the thing hurt like Hell when it was being applied, it really didn’t take at all long for the pain of it to fade away. Within a couple of hours, it barely felt like I’d been spanked at all. It made me realise just how important the after-glow of a spanking is. There’s something very satisfying about that little reminder you receive every time you walk or sit down. I love that aftermath of a punishment almost as much as I love the punishment itself. The crop doesn’t quite give you that, but I certainly enjoyed the intensity of it at the time. The sight of Milady tapping it menacingly against her hand is one that will certainly stay with me for an awful long time.
It wasn’t a bad way to spend a Saturday evening!
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Yummy!
Nothing beats a certain sort of smile. This picture from School Mistress Fantasy shows exactly the sort of smile I'm talking about. Divine!
Astonishment On-Line
Every time you think you’ve seen it all something comes along and proves you wrong.
AOL have always had a reputation for being somewhat prudish, far more so than just about any other internet service provider. Traditionally, the thought of seeing a piano with uncovered legs would be enough to set our friends at AOL into a full-blown moral panic. Sex of any variety, it seemed, was strictly taboo in the AOL universe. I always thought that the likelihood of seeing a reference to sex of the more interesting variety on AOL was only slightly more remote than the chance of Tim Henman winning Wimbledon on the day that the Martians come to Earth. Then I saw this:
Unbelievable AOL link!
I’ve pinched myself repeatedly but it does seem that I’m actually awake. I’ve read it twice just to make sure. It’s true! Here is dear old Auntie AOL, the corporate incarnation of Mary Whitehouse, suggesting that we all liven up our sex lives with a little hanky-spanky.
Nothing falls into disuse quite like an old certainty. The times they are a changing.
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Spelling Bee
Search engines come up with the strangest results. I was just checking through our site stats and one MSN query rather jumped out at me:
http://search.msn.com/results.aspx?q=GOBAL CLEAN AIR&first=41&FORM=PERE4
That query brought a visitor to one of our story pages which contained the words “clean air” and was archived by the search engine whilst containing a “thought for the day” quote from an American humourist named George Gobal. In all honesty, I’d never heard of the guy when I saw his quote and didn’t question the spelling of his name. On further investigation, a search for the quote in question (“if it weren’t for electricity we’d all be watching television by candlelight”) brings up web references for George Gobal, George Gobel, and George Gobol. At least everyone seems happy that they’re dealing with a man called George.
The ironic thing is that the “gobal clean air” query result us surrounded by a whole stack of pages discussing “gobal warming.”
I’m starting to wonder whether anything on the web is spelt correctly!
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A Golden Age
It seems like a lifetime ago but in reality, it was only a few years. When I got the urge to see a few spanking pictures and read a bit about the subject I’d slip into a shuttered shop and hand over a large sum of money for a few magazines.
The last time I bought one, they were £10 a piece – this being a few years back, I guess it’s probably nearer to the equivalent of £15 ($30) in today’s money. As such, they were always something of an occasional treat. The relatively small print-runs of speciality magazines always meant that they were going to cost an awful lot more than vanilla fare.
I remember arriving home, eagerly awaiting what lay within the covers – UK law insists on adult publications being sold in sealed packages – presumably, in case there are any minors infiltrating adult bookshops. Whatever the reason for it, it meant that there were a fair few wasted purchases. You can’t, as we all know, judge either a book or an adult magazine by its cover. A clutch of three or four magazines would usually provide just enough material that pressed the right buttons to keep me coming back for more but there were a great many titles that proved a complete and utter waste of time and money.
I have a certain nostalgia for the magazines of old – I’m sure that if I ever see a pile of old issues of Kane or Februs going cheap, I’ll struggle to resist the temptation to snap them up but in so many ways, I’m heartily glad that the age of the magazine is over.
When I first got a private internet connection, I spent several months just trawling around for free stuff – you know, those fantastic little sites like this one that don’t charge you any money – and things were great but after a while the urge to see what was out there got the better of me and I took out a membership at Sting in the Tail. It was a total revelation – not only as I getting a whole heap of pictures for the price of a magazine or two with hours upon hours of video thrown in on top, I could actually get a good idea of what I was paying for before I paid for it. Happy days!
There’s plenty of competition out there these days and as a result, the better sites have gone on getting better and better. When I found my little cache of magazines in the attic recently, I couldn’t help but wonder how much more effectively that money could have been spent on pay-site memberships. As Mr. McMillan would have said, we’ve never had it so good!
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Is it Just Me?
I was watching a show called Malcolm in the Middle on television last night. For those of you that aren’t familiar with it, it’s an excellent American sit-com based on mildly dysfunctional family, headed by a stern, matriarchal figure called Lois, wonderfully played by Jane Kaczmarek.
In the episode in question, Reese, the second oldest child, moves into his own apartment following a family argument. After a week or two, his parents visit him and find that everything seems to be going spectacularly well until it emerges that he has managed to accrue a massive credit-card debt. As Reese is dragged, by the ear, back to the family home, his mother issues a statement of intent. It was a speech that very much caught my attention.
I’ve been trying to remember the exact wording of it and I’m afraid that I can’t but it was something to the effect of: “I am going to punish you like you’ve never been punished before. Already, new and exciting ways of punishing you are bursting into my mind. I’m not going to punish you now; I’m going to wait for a few days. This is the best reason I’ve ever had to punish you and I’m not going to blow the opportunity by being impatient.”
Not, as I say, the exact words – which, bizarrely enough, I can’t find anywhere on the ‘net – but something quite close to them. It sounds far more like an opening line from one of my more erotically inclined daydreams than something from a family-orientated TV show.
Do we have a spankophile scriptwriter on our hands here? Someone seizing the opportunity to put his own fantasy words into the mouth of an attractive actress, perhaps? Is it something a little more cynical, like a studio deciding to throw a bone to the kinky demographic? Or is it (and this seems a touch more likely) simply a case of my own perverted mind finding all manner of erotic possibilities within a perfectly innocent line in a comedy script? I suspect I’ll never know, but whatever the case might be, it did inspire a particularly pleasant dream!
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Sorry!
We've been a bit short on blog entries lately as I've been a little unwell. Here's a nice picture by way of recompense:
Born Kinky
Are we born kinky? Many people seem to think that we are.
We live in the genetic
age. Almost anything about us, it seems, can be explained away by our genes.
-
Do you have a drink problem? - Ah, yes – that would be an addictive personality, it’s all in the genes, don’t you know?
-
- Do you like girls or boys? - That’ll be a genetic
thing, again.
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- Do you like Mahler? - Really? Oh well, it must be something that you’re
genetically predisposed to.
Now, there are all manner of things about myself that
I can happily accept are hard-coded in my DNA. The colour of my hair, my eyes and
my skin, it seems reasonable to assume are as they are because that’s the way that
they’re biologically destined to be. I can even accept, albeit with reservations,
that certain aspects of my general disposition are somehow innate. It doesn’t seem
entirely beyond the realms of possibility, for instance, that some people are naturally
dynamic, whereas others, like myself, are naturally slothful. Beyond that, though,
I’m inclined to the notion that we come into the world as largely blank canvasses.
It is difficult to imagine that there is a gene or a chromosome that is responsible
for what I feel when I see a woman flexing a curved piece of rattan. There is no
biological imperative that I can imagine being at work here. The fact that the sight
of a man-made object (in this case a crook-handled cane) adds more to the scene
for me than any other functionally identical object proves to me that there is a
sizeable cultural element at play. I strongly suspect that had I been raised in
the USA rather than Britain, it would be paddles rather than canes that caught my
attention.
The “born kinky” argument suggests that had certain cultural elements
not been present in my life, my kinky gene would have driven me into some other
realm of kinkiness. That I would have somehow acquired a fetish for rubber, leather
or bondage or some other thing. My own suspicion is that I’d simply be more focussed
on straightforward copulation.
In the fetish world, there is a tendency to sneer
a little at the “vanilla.” A notion that while we’re all having a brilliant time,
the mainstream population are engaged in profoundly dull activities behind the bedroom
door. It makes us feel a better to think that way. We’re special. We’re different.
We’re the ones who know where it’s at. Maybe so, but I can’t deny that my life would
be much easier had I grown up with regulation desires.
Spanking enters areas that
are very close to sex, many never form a direct connection but a sizeable minority
of us do. It’s certainly nothing to be ashamed of but it might just be something
that we’d be better off without? As much as spanking has brought me a great deal
of pleasure over the years, I wouldn’t wish my fixation on anyone that didn’t already
share it.
I have heard it suggested from time to time that the eradication of spanking
from books, comics and television programmes is yet another example of “political
correctness going mad.” I have to disagree. Such things fired my youthful imagination
in directions in which it would have been better to avoid.
In an ideal world, those
of us that already have the spanking bug will continue to enjoy it in an intra-adult
capacity; but spanking in the “real world” will be placed firmly in the dustbin
of history along with slavery, human sacrifice and countless other bad ideas.
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We've had a bit of an accident involving our existing blog entries and an HTML editor.
Hopefully they'll be back very shortly.
