Downton Abbey Re-imagined!

Had a cosy evening last night with, how shall I say it, a female companion, (don’t worry Katy, I won’t let on who you are!) and watched the first episode of Downton  Abbey. Quite good fun in its own way, but as we both agreed, what a lot of wasted opportunities for some naughty  screen action.

It started with most of the local gentry going off on their horses to hunt some poor defenceless fox which  lead to Lady Mary being thrown from hers resulting in nothing more than  a muddy jacket. How much better my special friend and I agreed if it had been near a stream and most of he clothes had been ripped off in the process so she ended up like this.

But it wasn’t to be! And, oh my God, Carter the butler and Mrs Hughes are apparently going to get married and she is nervous about the fact he might actually want to give her a good seeing too! Both of us hid our heads under a blanket at this stage. Sorry, the thought of those  two making the beast with two back does not appeal,  so much that just for once I will spare you an image of what the two of them would look like having a good shag.

And Lady Edith is considering getting herself a London pad. “Whatever will she get up to there?” Her snooty sister wanted to know. No prizes for guessing, after all the poor girl hasn’t had much bedroom action since the whole series so she can now make up for lost time!

 And when it comes to bedroom action, Lady Mary was being blackmailed for having had a week of filth and frolics in a hotel with Lord someone or other. She  was saved by her father who sent the blackmailer packing with a miserable fifty quid and who then  who sort of told off his daughter  afterwards instead of giving he a long bare bottomed spanking for causing him so much trouble.

But the greatest waste of an opportunity was Daisy the young kitchen made going ballistic at the new owner of one of the grand local properties and nearly loosing her job, but as a result being in line for being punished in other ways. Goodness, my friend and I were hardly short  of a few suggestions particularly as by now we had more or less emptied a bottle of Rioja and were wearing rather less than when we first turned on the TV.

Certainly nothing less than a session over the house  keeper’s knee we thought, 

followed by her being forced to strip naked,

(yes, I know she’s only a skinny little thing, but that’s what fantasy is all about!)

and be nice to all the men in the house,

followed by a final spanking while still naked. 

But as I say, we had been drinking!

Can I have my panties back now Sir?

“Can I have my panties back, Sir?” 

Not a question you are likely to hear at polite dinner parties, but one that lots of us girls have been obliged to ask from time to time, generally with lowered eyes and raised expectations as to what might happen next.

 

We’ve all been there. For the female of the species  seeing our lover get that determined look in his face as he grabs us by the wrist and announces that this time we  really have gone too  far and it’s his simple duty to give us a good spanking for our own good is a moment that awakens all our sense like no other. The next few minutes will be humiliating and painful, but oh so arousing and we are torn between fighting and melting. A second ago  were having the time of our life, practicing our cock teasing techniques and wondering if we might try out similar tricks on that rather gorgeous new guy the office,

and the next minute we’re struggling over his knee with our skirt pulled right up and everything on display.

 After investigating out upturned bottom and the gossamer of our sexy new knickers for a second he sets in, a few exploratory slaps  to get his eye  and then begins a rhythmic spank, spank, spank, on our sensitive derriere as we gasp and squeal. Could it possibly be more demeaning? We are a woman with a life and a career and he’s treating us like a naughty little girl from the nineteen fifties and he’s so enjoying himself you know that his could go on for a good while.

But it gets even  worse.

“I think,”  he says, his voice chocolaty with self satisfaction, “ To teach you a proper lesson I need to spank you with your knickers down!”

You protest, of course you do, but nothing is going to stop him now, and slowly and lasciviously he pulls them down and your have been reduced to a squirming protesting little brat,

upturned, helpless and bare bottomed for the next stage of your ritual punishment.

He’s seen you naked time and again, but never has  your  vulnerable little bottom ever felt  so bare and defenceless, framed by your  up turned skirt and lowered knickers that are clinging there about mid thigh and making you look so stupidly schoolgirlish as you struggle helplessly across his knee.

When he sets in to the next stage of your chastisement his horny hand  is spanking its punitive message on your naked flesh and it burns and stings and this is no longer a game and suddenly  you realise that he’s right. You are a wicked little cock teaser and you do deserve this and in the strangest way it is doing you good.

“I’m sorry, Sir!” You call out. I’m really sorry! I promise to be good girl from now on!”

And maybe it’s almost over! After exacting further promises from you, some of which are an excitement in their own right, he brings it to a close. You’re sitting on his lap now and the two of you are kissing and murmuring the sort of endearments  that you know will lead on to the wonderful  horizontal pleasures yet to come.

But there’s still one final humiliation . As you sit there, contrite and compliant, he starts to drag you knickers right down till he’s peeling them off completely.

“I think,” he says, his urgent member  pulsing underneath your glowing bottom, “ I think the lesson will sink  in better if you spend the rest of he day without panties on.” And he looks at you with burning eyes. “You can come to me later ask for them back”

And you know, and he knows that you know,  that this will turn into  yet another long and arousing scenario that could go so many different ways. And you can’t wait! 

Keats, Swimming, and Spanking (Yes there is a connection!)

I recently watched Bright Star, a film by Jane Campion about the poet John Keats and his love affair with Fanny Brawn. It’s a really good  film and I would recommend it to anyone.

In the film Fanny is hungry to know more about poetry and keen to find out how to understand it. He tells that she does not have to, and that reading poetry is like swimming in a lake. It is not necessary to analyze the lake nor to understand what it is all about, simply to appreciate the pleasure of being in it.

I would use the same analogy with sex. If something makes you feel beautiful and wonderful and fulfilled, then there is no need to try and break down why; simply enjoy and appreciate it while it is there.

I will go just a fraction further though. Swimming in a warm tropical sea under a hot sun is sweet and languorous and a joy none of us have any problem understanding,





very much like having sweet loving sex with someone we care for.

Plunging into an icy pool is something quite different. There is the element of danger, all the senses alive as never before and the excitement of a challenge. And when you get out and towel off, you feel so invigorated and happy you can scarcely believe it.

I would venture to say that is something of how it feels to be spanked, dangerous exciting and arousing.

Yes you’re not sure you can cope with it, and while it’s happening you can’t wait for the moment when it’s all over. But can anything in the world can compare with the hot drink afterwards, whatever form that might take?

Visiting cards

Now girls, If you’re feeling very courageous, (or particularly naughty) download whichever of  these  images that appeal  to you and get them  made up into visiting cards. Then when you meet a gorgeous man at a dinner party and he asks for your phone number, write it on the back and see his reaction!

Results guaranteed!

Women and erotic fiction

I have noticed that a large number of my Twitter followers are female writers of erotica with only the smallest handful  of men doing the same thing.

But when I think about it, women always have been the most notable producers of erotic literature, quite apart from E. L. James with Fifty Shades of Grey  we have Anais Ninn the doyenne of erotic writing, and of course Anne Desclos , AKA Pauline Reage,  who gave us the story of O.  Apart from these people there is the woman whose names escapes me whose blog Belle de Jour became an erotic novel and there are lots more. Additionally most of the quality newspapers have female journalists who regularly deal with the subject of sexual arousal and of course most of the women’s magazines have regular features on the subject. On the other hand, men’s  magazines have tended to rely on the three B’s (Bare Big Boobs ) to turn on their male readership and such commentary as there is can be summed up as ‘Phwoarre!’

 What you don’t get is any sort of analysis or discussion on the mysteries of sexual arousal. It is almost as if men are afraid of delving into that part of themselves and that they feel that if they confessed to having some kink or fetish that in some way would diminishes them.

There’s no doubt that we women can be as crude as men and enjoy the simple sight of  a delicious torso or a straining  cock,  but we know that there is more to sex than that.

The written or spoken  word can be such an aphrodisiac, stroking sensitive parts of us as effectively as finger tips or lips,

and I think we are more alive to that than men are.

Yes there are times when a simple and satisfying  fuck is all we need,  but so much of the time we want our imaginations to be stimulated as well. We want to be whirled off on a magic carpet of beautiful  arousal  and our bodies and minds taken to places previously new to us.

That means that not only are we more likely to be receptive to erotic literature, but also more likely to want to write it. I think I am right in saying that women don’t merely care how they feel sexually, they want to know why they feel that way sexually. That being the case, when they come to write about sex they have a deeper understanding of it. When a woman writes an erotic book, by its very nature it is designed to arouse the women reading it, but additionally it should help interpret those woman to themselves.

A previous article of mine dealt with the statistical fact that whereas most men described them selves as either straight or gay, a lot of women said that they  were ‘sexually flexible’ , happy to switch at will from heterosexual to  sapphic. That  flexibility says a lot. It suggests an openness  to new sexual experiences and a willingness, if not a hunger, to explore and experiment.

That being the, case not surprising that women have a more deep rooted understanding of their erotic selves and therefore are more able to describe it on the page.

Speaking for myself, I found writing Educating Anna arousing in its own  right. It took me several months during which all my thoughts and concentration was on how this ripe and inquisitive young female felt, living out in  my mind the exciting humiliation of that first spanking,

finding out all the wonderful things she could do with an erection,

and of course discovering that exploring the sweet pleasures of a compliant girl’s body was yet another way to experience erotic pleasure.

I included in the book a mixture of things I had experienced in my own sexual  life and things I would have loved to have happened to me. Yes I masturbated a great deal while writing it,

but if it  hadn’t excited me, then there would have been little chance of it exciting you. But that is the whole point of erotic literature, to lubricate the imagination and open it up to the myriad possibilities of sexual pleasure. As I keep saying, you’ll just have to read it for yourselves when it comes out.   

 

Educating Elizabeth

No time for a full posting today, but  just a quick one for you to ponder on.

 

 I said quite seriously in an earlier article that during the course of my erotic relationships with girls I’ve often taken pleasure in giving them a spanking, and that clearly I’m attracted to girls who are aroused by it, just as I am turned on by being spanked by a man. I went on to tell you that on the other hand I had never once been spanked by a woman and had no wish to be. I promise you I wasn’t pretending.

Strange then that I have to admit to finding little ripples of excitement by looking at this very elegant female wielding a cane. She has a very quiet and understated beauty, and an equally understated authority that I find quite arousing. I certainly don’t want to be caned, the thought of it doesn’t turn me on at all and it would be far too painful, but if I found myself in an amorous encounter with her and she decided I was in need of a long lingering bare bottomed spanking across her knee, I  suspect my struggles to escape would not be very convincing.

It seems that like my young heroine in Educating Anna , there are aspects of my sexual self I need to explore further!

Girl on a bike

Let’s take it as a fact of life that a show of innocence combined with some wanton display is as sexy as it gets, the big eyes/ no knickers combination clearly being devised by God as a way of keeping the world  populated. That being said, is there any bland and simple activity a girl can engage in that is free of any sexual sub text? I know, what about the simple wholesome act of going out on a summer’s day and riding a bike?

Absolutely not! The combination of a bike, a pretty girl and a short dress is the unholy trinity, a mixture as potent as a nuclear bomb and a short fuse. A bicycle is the cock teaser’s carriage of choice, and Lady Lucifer’s limousine.

To start with just getting on and off the thing can set off erections in a hundred yard radius.

“Could you just steady my bike for me darling?” She says giving you a flash of her perfumed panties. “Thank you so much!” And off she rides ready to cause mayhem and carnage on the public highway.

Instantly  the pavement is thick with tumescent men watching her lovely legs do circular dances for their pleasure while they pray that  the wind will make mischief with her little skirt, which of course it does which makes an exhibition of her tiny knickers.

And to make  it even worse, there are occasions when she even forgets her undergarments and the display she gives her adoring public is as full on as it gets.

 At least without knickers she’s very easy to spank and that at least is something we can take full advantage of when we get her back home.

So having learned her lesson, she puts on some shorts, practical and respectable she tells us but in their own way they might even be worse.

In these  she can get away with even more, out thrusting her cute bottom as she rides along and even at forgetful moments stopping so she can bend down to pick up stray items. 

At least back home she knows she’s gone too far, waiting in the bedroom with her bottom enticingly bare  for the punishment she knows  she has brought on herself for being such a little strumpet!

In Educating Anna, nobody rides a bike. I have to say don’t really see Anna that way, and in one chapter when she’s on her way to a new adventure she drives an ancient Rolls Royce with its roof down. On the other hand, her companion, the chirpy little Mouse with her baby blonde hair and limpid blue eyes would suit a bicycle perfectly, riding round with her  tiny panties on display and a big smile on her face.

Perhaps I should write a sequel!