el tercer ojo

A Short Story Entry: The Chesterfield

The Craigslist Ad

"86"lx36"dx27"h oxblood leather, excellent condition, $1000"

The advertisement's text looked simple.  But the delicious picture, combined with the word "Chesterfield" tipped Annie into a fantasy realm.   Paul, noticing her distraction, asked what she was thinking.

She sent him a link, pointing him to the Craigslist ad.

Then Annie told the story.

A.'s Memory

I remember reading something about a Chesterfield sofa when I was 12 or 13.  I'm not sure where, an anon book, probably one of the BlueMoons.  I didn't own it - I read it standing in a bookshop, trying to look like I wasn't reading porn.

There was a scene in the book where a man, an artist I think, punishes a woman, maybe his model.  The man made her bend over the Chesterfield in his study and began to strap her hard.  But the woman wouldn't or couldn't stay still.  Her moving distracted him -- broke up the image of punishment and submission he wanted to create.  She made his strap fall in the wrong places and leave marks he didn't intend. 

Finally the man stopped.  He left her there, crying and man came back with some of his old ties, tying her down so tightly she couldn't even lift a foot, let alone get out of position.  Then, when she was utterly helpless, he told her he was beginning the strapping again.  I remember feeling of horror at the strapping starting all over, only this time with her tied so completely.

I loved that.  His beginning again.  Loved that she had to be still, totally and completely controlled.  His lack of mercy a strange mercy in itself.

Their Conversation

A: It's a beautiful sofa.  The oxblood leather is the color of tramlines.  It reminds me something from a headmaster's study.

P:  And you as a naughty girl?  You'd definitely be bent over it, gymslip lifted high up, almost over your head.

A:  I could bend over it without a stool, but my bottom wouldn't be the highest point, unless I was standing on something or my feet were off the floor.

P: Yes, your hands would be tied in front and you'd stand on a stool.

A: So I'd be all stretched out and up on my toes?

P: Yes.  It looks like it would be comfortable enough to live with too.  That's an important, if secondary, consideration.

A: Yes.  We'll definitely need to be able to live with it as our sofa.

A: Sorry.   I'm actually still imagining I'm bent over the back of it, wearing my new gymslip, hands tied so I'm all stretched, bottom very high.  I can almost feel you lifting the skirt waaay up on my back, the front riding up too.  Finally feeling you tug my knickers down for a thrashing.  Right?

P: Goodness, what a naughty girl you must have been.  Of course, that's a good position for inserting a nice big plug, too.

A: ::stunned, embarrassed silence::

Final Nagging Question

Will the seller take less than $1000?

Details

[Once upon a time in the summer of 2000, for a very brief couple of months, the usenet provider Newsguy paid me to write some articles on spanking. It was great fun being paid for writing about something I write about for free and I really enjoyed it. Sadly, they never found a way to do the age protection they felt the "adult" writing needed so my gig ended after only four articles. Still, I did love doing it. This is one of the pieces I produced.]

"A fetish is nothing if not specific."

Pablo Stubbs made this wise remark to me at some point when I joked, with some amazement, at the effort and expense he had put into finding just the right gymslip and knickers for me (grey pleated and bottle green respectively). When one is dealing with something which has the power traditional school uniforms have for my partner, expense and inconvenience - not to mention my own physical discomfort, British school uniforms being somewhat less than seasonal in my desert clime - seem trivially unimportant.

"A fetish is nothing if not specific."

My brain echoed the phrase again as we sat the other night admiring a friend's canes. He's got quite a few - all with distinct (and distinctly painful) qualities based on their length and the density of the rattan they're made from. They are sanded and varnished to precise silky smoothness. All but one has the crook handle of a traditional English cane. Each cane has specific value to our friend for its own sake. As he flexed the canes, and swished them through the air, their number (six, I believe) obviously didn't seem excessive to him. Choosing the right one to impart the right message was an important part of the ritual discipline h would be administering.

For me, sitting nervously watching and listening, which cane he would use seemed unimportant. Had he owned but one or two that would have been enough to make me shift nervously in my chair. The swishing of one would have made me cringe slightly, probably visibly. For me, the detail that was important - specific - was that I was to be caned in the specific and traditional manner of a very strict English school. The caning would be slow and exceptionally painful, yet I would be expected to remain as still and quiet as possible during it. Since for me restraints tend to make scenes easier, the authenticity of this caning was what would make it possible for me to restrain myself.

Our friend knew this about me, knew that how and why I was being caned was as important (or more important) than the caning itself. So beforehand we carefully discussed what I'd done which merited this level of punishment. As we talked, I became a disobedient schoolgirl who deserved the sort of strict, harsh punishment I imagined would be meted out by a traditional (and perhaps sadistic?) headmaster at a strict school sometime in the past. I felt guilty and nervous, my hand finally shaking as it tapped gently on his "office" door.

This is the power of specificity for me. My friend, knowing his role, scolded me and slowly manoeuvred me into position. In the past this part has been extended by conversation, time in the corner, essay and line writing. By the time I'm bent over, standing on tip-toe, blushing and dying of shame as my knickers are slowly lowered to my knees, I'm generally already in tears. Some might think (and sadly have thought) that the caning itself is irrelevant at this point, that the strokes don't need to be very severe. But for me anyway this isn't the case. Our friend didn't disappoint; each stroke was delivered with full force, in straight lines, with a great deal of time between each. I thanked him for each one and willed myself to stay in position for "twelve of the best", as befits a girl receiving such a traditional punishment.

In the morning I could see where each stroke had left the distinctive double marks or "tram-lines" that are the evidence of a traditional caning. I couldn't help smiling at the proof of my "punishment" as I admired it in the mirror. It's all about details, you know.

After all, a fetish is nothing if not specific.

Summer Plans

Over on ASS I've noticed Todd and Suzy writing about making summer spanking plans.   It's made me wonder a bit about my own.  In years past, especially before Paul was able to move to the US, I got to spend some very fun summers in Edinburgh, London and the north east of England. Over the years I came to associate summer with trips to the UK and now I really miss getting to go and see my friends there. I even priced it out a bit the other day --or tried rather-- and was a bit boggled by the cost of tickets alone. Sometimes it's easy to look back now and wonder how I ever afforded it in terms of either time or money. 

Of course the simple answer is that I worked at a job during the academic year that provided housing as part of my compensation.  Since I didn't need to pay rent, I could save a good chunk of each stipend check.  Add to that a kinder gentler exchange rate and I was able to afford some great summers away from the US. 

This summer I'm working.  I'll be working on my dissertation, working at my university job (in fact I've logged about 50 extra hours there so far this month), helping my parents move back to Los Angeles from Portland, helping with preparation for my brother's wedding and generally (probably anyway) not doing any extra traveling until the Shadow Lane party in Vegas in August (though if I can somehow squeeze in a trip to Denver for Thunder in the Mountains, that would be very exciting).

I've also volunteered to run this year's short story contest on soc.sexuality.spanking.  Even though doing it is going to take a lot of time which would be better spent on my research, I'm really excited about doing it.  It's the 14th contest, the 13th anniversary, happening the year of the 10th anniversary of the group's creation / migration from the alt* to the soc* hierarchy.  (This was a big deal as it was the first time an alt.sex* group moved into the Usenet big 8.)  I'm going to try a few new things with this year's contest, including having a theme to design both the contest and archive website around.  My sister, who's an artist, is going to try and do some themed drawings to use as background to add a bit of visual interest.  We'll see how it goes.

In keeping with the thread below on having versus not having children, one of the things I've realized in the past few years is Paul and my choice not to have children has given us the freedom to be pretty out with the spanking fetish without needing to worry about how it could affect our family.  This is fun on one level but has also meant we can be comfortable doing things for the spanking / fetish community that other people don't feel able to do.  Example?  We host the domain and filtering software that make the newsgroup possible despite the fact the group has no content moderation (this means stories involving children -- even those involving sex and children.  I'm not sure we could afford the risk of doing so if we either had kids or either of us worked with them. 

It's not unselfish --the newsgroup has given me a huge amount over years-- Paul and I met there, I've made my closest scene friends and it's given me an outlet (and even validation) for every kinky scene I've ever been able to imagine writing.  But I do love that I can help it be there for others too. 

More on the SSC as events develop!

Flea Market Pervertables

[Once upon a time in the summer of 2000, for a very brief couple of months, the usenet provider Newsguy paid me to write some articles on spanking.  It was great fun being paid for writing about something I write about for free and I really enjoyed it. Sadly, they never found a way to do the age protection they felt the "adult" writing needed so my gig ended after only four articles.  Still, I did love doing it.  This is one of the pieces I produced.]

First, to understand this piece you have to know how much I love shopping. I really do. I can have fun doing shopping of any sort in any place - even the grocery store. My significant (as opposed to the insignificant ones?) other, Pablo Stubbs would tell you this was because I like to spend money, and while I can't really argue with that, I think it's also because of my own personal spanking-shopping game which I've happily played by myself in almost every store I've been in since childhood.

The game isn't hard In fact, I imagine you've already figured it out. Basically in addition to anything else I'm shopping for, I look for something that could be used to spank me. Sometimes I overlay this game with a fantasy of needing to find the most severe implement possible in order to satisfy the whim of some cruel, dominant type. I'm, of course, their naughty, naughty girl. It's sort of an urban girl variation on the 'go out and cut your own switch' theme. So I look at pervertables* [see note below]: ping-pong paddles, leather belts, wooden spoons, rulers, cheese boards, hairbrushes - I could go on here, but you probably have the picture. I don't generally buy anything, but I always look.

As I said, I can do this anywhere in any sort of store. But my favorite is an antique store, or better yet, a flea market. Flea markets are the perfect places to look for pervertables. After all, there's a huge variety of stuff and it's all randomly spread out and mixed up so I need to search. There's the thrill of the chase and all. In addition to variety, there are, of course, other reasons for looking at flea markets. As your grandparents surely mentioned in other contexts, they made things differently way back when. So when I go to search at antique stores and flea markets, I generally am looking to buy.

Now something I've discovered is that when I go to antique stores alone or with spanking friends I rarely find as good stuff as I do when I go with non-spanking friends to whom explaining the reason why I need a heavy leather razor strop with lovely brass fittings involves complex and creative invention (you know, lying). I consider this fact (and trust me, it is one) a lesser known of Murphy's Laws. This being true, I of course find the very best pervertables when I go flea market shopping with my father.

Like me, my father loves flea markets and always has his own little quest for the day. Last month when we went he was looking for a fishing tackle box. I was helping him, and meanwhile playing my own little game and also looking for just the right wedding present for some spanko friends.

In keeping with the law cited above, that Sunday was apparently kinky fetish day at the flea market. Despite rumors on soc.sexuality.spanking that they are relatively rare, I saw about six different heavy razor strops at four different stalls, though three smelt of some funky mold or mildew so they wouldn't have been as good to purchase. Another few vendors had different variations on the souvenir "board of education" fanny/spanking paddles. They were less than $10.00. Fortunately I didn't see the 'cute little deer' paddle I paid way too much for on eBay last year or my frugal heart would have broken. Plaid school uniforms abounded and, further proving that it really was kinky day, there on a table with some old farm tools were a pair of nineteenth century iron or steel manacles (as opposed to handcuffs) which the vendor confided really should be in a museum, but that he would let me have for a mere $40.00. I demurred, despite knowing that several friends would weep for them.

The irresistible find came at a stall filled with depression glass. There, on a cracked bit of mirror was an oval wood hairbrush, its bristles still intact. Now, I don't need an oval wooden hairbrush. They are evil and painful, plus the significant other I mentioned above gave me the most painful one on earth. But still. Here was a lovely one, for $6.00. Its only flaw was some chips in the finish on the back. The vendor came over; it was late in the morning and she was starting to pack up.

Now logically I knew that no one had any reason to be suspicious of me for looking at an old brush. And I've come a long way in the past three years. But still, my heart thudded and I'm sure I blushed as I talked with her. I bought it (after haggling the price down to $4.00 of course). I told my dad it was for a friend who collected vanity items.

Oh, my dad didn't find the right tackle box. We'll have to go back again next month.

*'pervertable' refers to an everyday item (such as a wooden spoon) which is perverted from its original purpose to new and improved use by kinky types (you know dear reader, people like you). Advantages of pervertables is that they're generally cheaper and easier to explain than say, a leather paddle. Though my feeling is you probably need the leather paddle too, of course.

Do You Capitalize?

...the "T" in "top" even if it's not the first word of a sentence? If so, do you also do the "B" in "bottom," the "D" in dominant and / or the "S" in "submissive"?  If so, is there a reason or is it just convention?  Do you do it in special cases (ie, for a specific person "my Top" or "my Bottom") or is it something you use generally?  Does the verb get the capital "Topping" as well as the noun?

I'm asking because I'm curious (duh!) -- it's something I've noticed increasing in the last couple years and am wondering where it's come from.

Also because it always reminds me of my grandmother (she'll be 101 next month and is maybe the last of the Victorians in style).  She's always used capitals for emphasis so I have letters from her with wonderful gems like:

Judith told me she forgave David after all That, but she is An Angel.  He does Not deserve Her.  That man is a Devil and a Very Bad husband.

Anyway, I wondered if I was being left behind somehow.  Though I don't think I can adopt the capping thing.  I love her, but I just can't keep from hearing my Nan when I see posts about "playing with different Tops."

Would love to read / hear your thoughts.

[this entry was also posted on soc.sexuality.spanking]

The SSC: A History

Kessily, the delightful dictator, has announced the results of this year's Short Story Contest for the Usenet group soc.sexuality.spanking.  Haron wrote a bit about it for the Spanking Writers blog and I thought that I'd just add a bit of the history. 

Because I researched it the year I ran the contest.  And I hate not being able to recycle work.

The first year of the SSC (back when the newsgroup was at alt.sex.spanking) was 1994.  It was started by Duchin, who had noticed that posting tapered off in the summer, as a way to encourage people to write a little something.  It's been run by Alex Birch, bookbabe, Duchin, Don Landhill, DLynn, Mary, Randi, Pablo Stubbs(2X), sparkle, Spraycan, Randi, me and now Kessily.  At one point I could have told you exactly who did which years, but I'll save that in case I need extra credit at some point.

There's been some amazing writing done for this contest over the years.  The results for the first few years are lost to Usenet history -- either they weren't archived or the archives were lost, but we have story archives going back to 1999 on the newsgroup's website.

What is the newsgroup / Usenet / soc.sexuality.spanking and why is it so important?  The answer to that will be another post I'm afraid.  And, thinking about it, represents a big piece of me that I forgot to mention.