I visited the second alone – a stunning conversion of a former railway company head office building in York – yet the hotel room’s accessories were equally appealing; I wished I’d had a young lady to hand to try out the long, particularly-heavy clothes brush. (I like this trend in five-star hotels providing implements, I must confess.)

My room was in what must have been a director’s office. But who would the girls have been, knocking nervously on that heavy oak door in years gone by, knowing that punishment would await inside? Picture two smartly-dressed friends, caught evading their fares back in the 1930s. Letters had been sent to their parents offering a choice: a court appearance for theft, or a private appointment – as outlined in the railway by-laws – to be caned by the Director of Railway Compliance. Replies had been posted opting for the latter, fathers condemning their daughters to twenty strokes each, on the bare.

The friends would already have been punished severely at their respective homes, naturally, both for the fare dodging and for the very fact that they’d been on the trains in the first place. (“You told me you were going to the library; instead, you were off to Scarborough”). They’d surmise that the caning from the railway official, bent tight over his desk, couldn’t be any more painful: how wrong they’d prove to be…

…and how much I want to return to the hotel to re-enact the scene!

My first evening proved tough – hurt, lonely, tired. But I’ve turned that around, thanks to so many things…

… my fab hotel suite: one of the nicest I’ve ever had. But oh, how it cries out for company. A girl coming into the living room, knowing she’s in trouble. A spanking over my knee on the sofa; a caning bent over the desk. And then the bedroom awaiting next door…

… the views over the city from the lounge window as I write: surely, in those thousands upon thousands of windows over the past couple of hours, there must be at least one girl being spanked? That lass with the letter she’d taken home from school; that young woman, home from the office at the start of the weekend, being snapped out of work mode by a boyfriend who’d roughly strip, strap and screw her; that other office girl, made to wait behind until all of the other employees had gone home then flogged and fucked over the boardroom table…

… the rattan shop in the Central Market; still there, still selling lovely canes for £1 a throw. They looked a little surprised when I bought ten: certain friends may tremble to hear that they’ve moved to slightly thinner, whippier rattan since my last visit…

… the four schoolgirls playing Jenga oh-so-noisly in the coffee shop this afternooon, being called into the headmaster’s office on Monday morning so that he could discuss the complaints that he’d received about their behaviour…

… the names of the current art gallery exhibitions, in the local listings magazine: should I investigate (and mentally corrupt) “The Hidden Girls” (where, why?), “Truth and Dare” (dare!) – or “What’s Your Porn” (honestly!)? I doubt the organisers of the last of these would really want to know…

… and, talking of such things, having some free time to idly reblog photos to my “Spanking Writers” Tumblr site – which now has some twenty pages of naughty images that I find hot. I hope at least a few of you are enjoying it…

… speculating about the thirty-something German lass at the next table, playing cards for money with two male friends, both of whom seem very tactile with her. I wonder what the penalty might be if she loses…? Or, perhaps, penalties plural… Or, perhaps, pleasures?…

… the survey in the local edition of Time Out, completed mainly by twentysomething KL residents, in which 45% of those in a relationship described themselves as “monogam-ish” (great phrase!) or “open”, 20% confessed to having had “sex in public places”, and 33% to having tried role play. Maybes I should try chatting up a few locals? Oh that I were so bold…

… and then pondering what I’d like to do to the astoundingly lovely Malaysian lass with the cute near-perfect American accent looking after guests in the club lounge. I appear to have fallen in lust…

… the image of a girl caught by the police in a clampdown wearing a fake watch from Chinatown, sentenced to thirty strokes of the cane as an exemplary punishment. (No, maybe not a good idea, given the three I bought myself!)…

… the lovely emails from so many wonderful friends: some close in real-life, others whom I only know online. Such strong and caring support really does make all the difference in times of adversity…

… even, simply, and perhaps most importantly of all, writing up accounts of so-different, wonderful scenes with Emma Jane (posted here earlier today) and Kami (which’ll pop up here over the weekend).

I’ve never previously set out so very consciously to treat a business trip as a “holiday [more than] paid for by a couple of days’ work”. And I’m enjoying it. Greatly. It’s been a good day!

Here are a few of my favourites, all of whom I’ve bought from personally and am happy to endorse – and who now appear on our newly-updated blogroll:

• For tawses and straps: I particularly rate two makers – first, our friend The London Tanner: Ian makes fabulous implements. Then there’s the always-excellent MC Customs. And for authentic school tawses, eBay’s the place to be – especially, the selection offered from time-to-time by the Church Antique Centre in Crieff.
• For canes: Prysm, Maui Kink, Can-iac and Quality Control. Jack’s Floggers are also recommended (although try finding them at places such as the LAM; I never managed to get a reply to my requests to buy their canes online).
• For paddles: you know, I could do with a recommendation! I have a fair few of them (OK, a dozen or so, of slightly differing shapes and weights, with holes and without), but I’m not sure I do have what I’d describe as a good, solid, American high school paddle in my collection!
• For hairbrushes: it just has to be Mason Pearson – although, bizarrely, I found the most gorgeous cheap brush in Claire’s Accessories when Emma Jane and I were on holiday in Belgium last month, which was very robust but not too severe, and worked rather beautifully

Any other recommendations? And for any other items (I don’t have favourites for whips, crops or the like, for example). And if you happen to make nice implements yourself and want to plug them, feel free!

I did a fair amount of research before placing my order, wanting something special, and finally settled on an American company, Prysm. Their website was intriguing:

We use only top quality Indonesian (lunchi) Kooboo rattan for our handcrafted canes. Kooboo rattan is the most consistently sized and has the best flex available. The rattan has been left in its natural state, with the bark intact.

What makes our rattan canes the ultimate? Our PATENTED Oil Filled Process. You can expect excellence in appearance, flexibility, and overall superior quality performance with an extended life distinguishing them from common water processed rattan canes.

Item received may not look exactly as shown due to the inherent nature of being a handmade natural material/product.

So, I wrote:

I wondered if you could confirm a price for a set of six canes, all with a black braid handle, one in each thickness from junior up to the 16-17mm size, each 30 inches long, shipped to the UK. (Having them all the same length is really important!)

After a friendly correspondence, the order was placed, and soon after they arrived. Slightly strangely, customs hadn’t asked for their usual import fees: perhaps they realised that there were girls out there needing beating, and waved the package through accordingly.

I gave Haron one whack with each cane when they first arrived – and, memorably, bruised my own left hand with the heaviest one when I tried to assess their weight! All six are beautifully balanced and perfectly weighted; just the right length, and (much as they’re less conventional in school scenes) I do prefer straight-handled canes. The lightest one is remarkably whippy; the thickest two are really only for those who enjoy more thuddy implements.

They came into their own last Friday, on the eve of my current sojourn in Egypt… My really rather lovely play partner for the evening was stripped naked at the foot of the staircase, then taken upstairs and made to select a cane from the rack for her beating. She (rather bravely) chose the third heaviest; I decided that we’d better use the one either side of that in weight, too, to make sure she’d made the most appropriate choice, and made her bend over the end of the bed.

Before the evening was out, mind, all six had been used – hard, enthusiastically – and her backside and thighs (both front and back) were beautifully striped. Oh, and the XH Lochgelly and a slipper or two may have made an appearance in the midst of proceedings, too! (The effects apparently lasted well into the following day, when a DM revealed that it was hurting to sit on even the soft seats that she’d chosen in a pub for lunch!). It was truly lovely play; I hope it’ll be repeated as soon as my travels permit.

In case you’re wondering how this works:

The object of the invention is to provide a trick device of this character used ostensibly as a weight-lifting machine but which, when actuated operates a spring actuated electro-generator and a spring actuated paddle.

Can you imagine this in the gym? You grab the weights, pull on them, and suddenly – THWACK!

Oh dear.

The thing about Kiev is that on the whole it’s pretty green, with trees everywhere. I knew that. What I hadn’t noticed is that how many of the trees are birches and weeping willows. At the end of my street there’s a positive willow grove, offering a harvest of beautiful switches. It’s cruel mockery that I’m here on my own, with no chance to enjoy a nice switch on either the giving or the receiving end.

Anyway, I like the thought that when all these trees were planted many years ago, there was somebody responsible for the city planning who had their eyes on the provision of switches for the masses.

Do we count them or not? Just because a wooden spoon *can* be a spanking implement, doesn’t mean it’s ever been used that way, or ever will be. Besides, in a right mind-set, just about anything remotely slappy or whippy can be perverted, like a remote control or a stick of celery. (Yep, tried those. Not very effective if pain is what you want, but hilarious.)

So, not everything pervertible is a spanking toy. But some things undeniably are. Confusing, when you’re making an implement round-up.

Anyway, this line of thought got me wondering: do you prefer implements that are specifically made for spanking (say, a nice lacquered paddle with carefully drilled holes, or a lovingly stitched strap), or do you prefer to reach out for pervertibles (a brush, a belt, a ruler)?

I find myself leaning towards the pervertibles camp. There are many specialist toys I enjoy, and certainly my life wouldn’t be the same without canes, but instinctively, my preference is usually for things that aren’t made specifically to be spanking implements.

How about you?

An example is Watts’ “Study with peacock feathers”. I link to it here, rather than including the photo in the post, as even C19th paintings can class as NSFW. Suffice it to say, if you can’t click on the link, that most viewers (or should I say voyeurs) will focus rather more on the nude woman than on the peacock’s contribution to the piece. In a rather marvellous phrase, the accompanying notice in the exhibition describes it as an example of:

“Intimate works intended for the private delectation of connoisseurs”

That’d be Victorian for ‘porn’, then? I rather love the phrase: I think I shall adopt it for any photos I take during scenes in future.

But then – and the point of the post, really, comes a small selection of furniture – including Lawrence Alma-Tadema’s “Couch”, dating from 1893:

Couch? Right. Like everyone’s couch has two leather straps to tie girls down. But if they called it a “punishment bench”, presumably they wouldn’t be able to include it in the show. And oh, how I want a reproduction…

My enthusiasm for the scheme was immediate – less from the thought of hearing beautiful music than from the kinky potential. See, a few years back, Haron and I captured a rather lovely item on eBay – a music teacher’s satchel, marked with their initials, and containing a small tawse (also initialled):

So, the prospect of a piano-learning girl being made to play her scales or the piece she’d been learning rather appeals. Mistakes would be punished, of course, and the lesson would become harder and harder for the girl as she tried to play with sore, strapped hands – perhaps through a veil of tears, and doubtless with her frustration at her own errors growing by the minute.

More serious would be were the teacher to conclude that, rather than just not playing well that evening, a girl had failed to practice during the previous week. He’d surely place her over his knee – but would he use his hand, or a hairbrush? And then there’s the girl’s guardian, told by her instructor that she’d been slacking. Once the teacher had left, she’d be sent upstairs to wait; he’d follow a few moments later, and after a lecture, she’d find herself bent over the side of her bed as he unbuckled his belt.

I love the idea. And yet… see, if Emma Jane did really want to learn, my instincts would be entirely contrary to the above. I’d want to support, encourage, praise my lovely girl – especially early on, when mastering the techniques might be difficult. Mistakes? They’re bound to happen; my natural tendency would be to want to gloss over them, to help to build her confidence. I’d find myself in something of a quandary – yet the thought of her standing, looking at me, palms upturned waiting for the strap, really is so amazingly appealing.