One of the things about spanking events that last over a whole weekend is that it’s hard to write a single coherent report of them. Sometimes, it takes only a minute to have an intense kinky experience that feeds your fantasies for months afterwards – and the Victorian reformatory we attended over the weekend (organised by Jessica and her husband) lasted for 48 hours. There were, of course, breaks and stretches of downtime, but I’ve spent most of the weekend in role. Memorable experiences… I’ve had a few.
Here are some highlights.
1. Induction involved surrendering my clothing and lining up for the shower with the other girls, before we were allowed to changed into our freshly-issued reformatory uniforms. There was a big wicker basket in the corridor, and we had to throw all of our everyday clothes there. Colourful fabrics flew into the basket; stockings, black and white, curled together; drawers and slips rested on the top – several girls’ previous lives all mixed in together. We were all thrown into the same basket of the reformatory, and it would be a while before we would be allowed to emerge separately again.
2. We girls spent a fair amount of time cooking meals and cleaning up afterwards. While we worked, the masters sat in their common room, demanding wine or tea or snacks from time to time. We took turns to serve them. I expect they were bored, because every time I went in to serve, they came up with little humiliations to visit upon me. For example, at one point I had to keep walking around the room with a plate of biscuits until I made a round without anyone taking one. Not knowing what would happen each time I knocked on the door of the common room was delicious torture.
3. All girls wore cards around our necks, where we got black marks for specific offences. Five marks for the same offence invited punishment. Begging not to have my card marked didn’t help a single time, but still I begged, and all the masters had a similar smirk as they put down their marks. It was, perhaps, worse than the punishments themselves. (Though not the mouth-soaping for the foul language: that was singularly vile.)
4. We were subject to hourly punishment, unless there was some other event going on. You would have thought that, with so many spankings to deliver, the masters would go easy during each one. Not so: although, perhaps, not the hardest they could give, they spanked firmly, and were most unimpressed with yelping and wriggling. The cumulative effect of this, as well as the individual punishment sessions with each master, was that I reached the state of perpetual soreness by Saturday evening, and was truly struggling to sit down on the hard bench at the table where we took our improving lessons.
5. And then there was my final individual punishment session of the weekend, an appointment with Mr Jenkins…
…but that’s a topic for a separate post. To be continued!
I have to imagine that the reason this post hasn’t gotten any comments yet is that we’re all too jealous!
I just love hourly spankings, there’s something so wonderful about knowing what’s coming… the soreness/warmth just fading from your last spanking before the next one starts. Oh, I miss that!