The weekend

Take one sixteenth-century house, with thick stone walls, in splendid isolation. Add Emma Jane, HH and myself… and you’ll see why I have a huge smile on my face after an amazing weekend.

Take Friday night: a girl had been out for the night without permission in the local town. She’d changed into her party clothes; left her more demure outfit along with her ticket home in a station locker; had lost her purse (or had it stolen) during the course of an evening at a club. Arriving for the last train home, she’d jumped the barriers at the end of the platform – and had been duly apprehended by the station staff.

She’d given a false name and address; when she’d finally confessed her true identify, her guardian had been called to collect her from the station manager’s office. He was outraged at what he heard – and at the revealing short dress she was wearing.

Now fare evasion is a serious offence; a visit to the courts the following morning would result in a criminal record and much shameful publicity. So her guardian (HH) asked the station master (yours truly) whether there was any alternative. It seemed that the 1933 Railway Regulations, which had never been fully repealed, allowed for the administration of corporal punishment to first-time offenders. And so it was that she ended up bent over the table in the office, her skirt lifted for eight cutting strokes of my cane across her bare buttocks – before her guardian took up the station master’s strap and whipped her himself.

After she’d been thrashed? Time for her to sign the punishment form – oh-so-unwillingly – before being led away, threats of further punishment when she got home ringing in her ears…

That, however, wasn’t the main scene of the weekend. Marianne was an Orphanage girl; she’d proved unwilling to co-operate with some of the Warden’s darker plans, and so she and her younger sister were to be expelled. Facing such a dire threat, she’d changed her mind and offered to be more obedient – and had been sent to the Chairman of the Governors (yours truly) and local magistrate (HH) to learn her lesson. After a short introductory scene on the Saturday night, EJ was woken in role early on Sunday morning, and the fun and games began in earnest.

See, a girl needed to understand that the Orphanage had to get funding in whatever ways it could. That the girls had to help, and that certain gentlemen would pay for their company. Lifting her nightdress, we started to show Marianne how she would be expected to behave when sent to visit benefactors: where they would touch her, what they would call each part of her body. And then, exactly what they would expect from her – as we shared her between us on the bed.

Then she had to be taught some discipline: standing, naked, straight upright with her hands on her head in the middle of the room. A thin, whippy cane each. One of us in front, one behind, and a slow countdown allowing us to cane the front and back of her thighs simultaneously. Her breasts were strapped next, before we led her back to the bed and tied her securely by the wrists so that we could each abuse her, roughly, once again.

And finally, to punish her for her behaviour to the Warden and ensure she would be a good girl in future: a birching, as she lay flat on the heavy oak table, bound in position by ropes around her wrists and ankles. Fresh birches, cut just two days before from young saplings, used to full effect on a brave but ultimately-beaten girl. And then the tightest of hugs.

That, then, dear readers, is my essay on What I Did At The Weekend. I’ve left out the hardest of tawsings; the nipple clamps; the ginger; supervising a girl’s exercise routine; caning EJ on her way out on her run and (outdoors) when she returned; the lovely photographs (and associated whackings that went with them); how we woke her up on Saturday morning. I’ve not mentioned the wonderful vanilla stuff, too – lovely meals; sightseeing; cars returning home loaded with spoils from wonderful antique shops; caring chaste cuddles.

I’ve left out the odd moment of tension, too – for, when playing this intensely, emotions are perhaps bound to become frayed at times. (We even had a false start to the Orphanage scene, with a slightly different premise). For they don’t matter, when playing in an atmosphere this completely caring and totally trusting, with two such very wonderful play partners.

There are times that one will never forget. There are times when I count myself such a very, very lucky man. That was this weekend.

5 thoughts on “The weekend

  • 6 March, 2012 at 1:52 pm

    I have to agree, this was both a breath-taking and lovely description of what sounds to be a LOT of fun! MMmmmph! *envy*

  • 6 March, 2012 at 11:07 pm

    You folks are so very lucky to have each other and to be able to play like this. I’ve had role-play weekends with Bonnie and a friend of hers, but never so elaborate and interesting as yours. The love and caring are so evident and so nice. Thanks for sharing with us.


  • 11 March, 2012 at 1:06 pm

    It was a really great weekend and your post captures the essence of it beautifully :) xx


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