06 MarThe End of the Affair….

Posted by Jessica in Musings from Kinkdom on March 6th, 2010

22 Comments »

This, dear readers, may come as something of a surprise, but this is my last post on ‘Bend Over Jessica’. Henceforth, my opinions and thoughts will be kept to myself, my play sessions unrecorded by nothing but my head and my rants and moans will be internal. I realise that this may come as something of a bolt from the blue but I think most blogs (with a few honourable exceptions) tend to be here today and gone tomorrow so as I slide back into the ether, there will be other reads to replace me…

I’ve really enjoyed my eight months of writing here and also the contributions from the people who have the patience to read my random spouting. I’d like to say a special thank you to the indomitable Dr Higgins of Lowewood Academy, who is the technical guru behind Bend Over Jessica. As usual, he has been more than a star and I am very appreciative of him. I’ve also enjoyed being a part of the kinkster blogging community and I will still be contributing something to other people’s musings via the comments facility.

These days, it seems like we all live in a goldfish bowl and that privacy, both personally and within relationships can be a difficult commodity to come by. The whole phenomenon that is ‘Social Networking’ – whether that’s blogging, Facebook, Fetlife or Twitter – means that we know more about each other than ever before, especially when you get someone like me. People of my generation are used to living out their lives in public. People older than me are not. I’ve never been embarrassed or ashamed by anything – with me, what you see tends to be very much what you get. Where I have made a mistake was assuming that in giving no-holds barred accounts of a girl’s kinky life and times that it was all right to take the people closest to me along for the ride, without every really asking their permission, to characterise them in the pages of this blog, to give you all a picture of what they are like as people – without ever realising that they didn’t have a right of reply, unless it was in a public arena.

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Category(s): Musings from Kinkdom

05 MarCounting the Contraband..

Posted by Jessica in Going Back in Time...., Real-Life Play... on March 5th, 2010

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At the reformatory, there were five naughty girls, Rose Gwylim, Tessie Stevens, Audrey Sinclair, Nancy Ingram and Mary-Frances Smith.

They had between them:

A bottle of vanilla vodka
A bottle of grapefruit vodka
A bottle of apple vodka
A bottle of ginger wine
Orange juice and lemonade to mix
Diet coke
Percy Pigs
Wotsits
Doritos
Haribo
Jaffa cake bars
Sherbet fountains/Dip dabs
Lollies
Mini-chocolates selection

Those are just the ones I can remember!

Due to some very ingenious hiding and very lax inspection regime by the staff, most of this was consumed between the hours of 12am and 4am on both nights.

Is it any wonder that I think I’ve had a sugar overdose?

Category(s): Going Back in Time...., Real-Life Play...

04 MarVanilla Spice

Posted by Jessica in Musings from Kinkdom, Vanilla Alert! on March 4th, 2010

2 Comments »

As a kinkster, am I alone in finding ordinary vanilla sex dull?

That isn’t to say that I always expect my bed partners to be swinging from the chandeliers with a whip at their belt and a knife in their teeth but I have to say that the idea of merely going to bed fills me with dread. ‘Going to bed’ in my vernacular is code for going to sleep. I ‘go to bed’ in order to get some shut eye. Not to indulge in endless in-and-out that I’m not getting off on. If there’s no spice in it for me, it’s not really that exciting. I’d rather have the sleep to be honest, that’s something I’m pretty deprived of!

I do worry about this sometimes. Does it mean that I am in some way emotionally stunted and I can’t get off on what any other couple would describe as a natural and loving act? Am I an adrenaline junkie, who needs to feed of her fear and pain in order to achieve orgasm? Or is it that ‘vanilla’ women don’t, as is frequently noted in magazines, have orgasms from sex, or at least not as often as the men?

I do know, from frequent Kinky Girls Nights Out that women find it hard to achieve orgasm from penetration. Often, we require some other help, from fingers or mouths. Scientifically, this is due to the fact that orgasms in women are centred on the clitoris whereas the act of penetration is centred on the vagina, so unless you have some convenient friction or the angle is right, women do find it hard to come from sex.

It feels somewhat abhorrent to say this. It feels like I’m saying (and to a certain extent I am) that being vanilla bores me. That yes, I like cuddling and talking but when the cuddling and talking develops into sexual activity with no BDSM context, whilst I don’t exactly mind it, I do get bored. And if I know that’s all that’s going to be on offer, it’s like expecting to go to a five-star restaurant and then suddenly finding yourself in McDonalds.

Chicken McNuggets anyone?

Category(s): Musings from Kinkdom, Vanilla Alert!

03 MarLittle Green Men

Posted by Jessica in Stranger than Fiction..., Vanilla Alert! on March 3rd, 2010

4 Comments »

Why are men so useless at expressing their emotions?

I’ve suffered from it quite a few times in the past couple of weeks, not just from He Who Must Be Obeyed but The Lover as well. Basically, it goes something like this.

Jessica notices that all is not well in man world.

Jessica (knowing full well that this is the case): “Is anything the matter?”

Him (adopting either sulky or martyred look): “No, nothing.” (Deep sigh. Puffs out cheeks.)

Jessica (slightly irritated): “Are you sure?”

Him (bottom lip pushing out): “Yes! Don’t nag me!” (Deep sigh. Walks to desk and starts fiddling with handy piece of cable tie or other male item, occasionally opening drawer or typing with more force than usual)

Jessica : “I know something’s upset you.”

Him (vehement): “No! I’m fine!” (Deep sigh. Even deeper sigh.)

Jessica storms out in exasperation to cook dinner/do washing/clean bathroom/have shower (delete as necessary)

Later on, you catch them out when they actually say why they are upset or unhappy, normally when you have burst into tears and told them you hate it when they are cross. But by then, they’ve spent a minimum of six hours and a maximum of four days sulking and the whole time you’ve been trying to work out why they are unhappy – because you can’t take any steps to solve it until they say something. And then, because they’ve been sulking and upset you, you don’t feel remotely sympathetic to their plight. What you actually want to do it stab them in the eye with a pencil.

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Category(s): Stranger than Fiction..., Vanilla Alert!

02 MarSunday Night and Monday Morning

Posted by Jessica in Going Back in Time...., Real-Life Play... on March 2nd, 2010

1 Comment »

Rose was sore.

That was the abiding thought as she lay in the dark in the narrow iron bed, shifting restlessly, unable to sleep, her cheeks still a little wet from her earlier weeping. All she was aware of was the relentless burning heat of her bottom, peppered with red welts and stripes, bruises and marks.

Outside, a night bird called. It was quiet here in the depths of the forest, where Lord Fawcett’s Institute for Delinquent and Debauched Young Women was situated. The cool night air drifted through the open window but Rose’s bottom was a ball of heat that would take more than the tendrils of a March mist to cool. She felt the room closing in on her, like a cell.

Up until tonight, she had shared a dormitory with two other inmates, Tessie Stevens and Nancy Ingram but tonight, she had been separated to a solitary room. Tomorrow, they would all be returned via wagon to the railway station and from thence to their various abodes but Rose was different and a closed carriage would collect her at dawn. Unlike some of the other girls, Rose had a place to go as her employer, Mr Anscombe, had told the magistrates court that he would take Rose back into his household when she had served her sentence.  But once she had been given her final punishment, he had insisted that she be separated from the other inmates. “She will be infected by their ways” he’d insisted to the Chairman of the Bench.

Rose, already devastated with horror at her conviction for theft and whoring, had remained silent. The magistrates hadn’t wanted to hear how she came to steal the maids uniform provided for her by Mr Anscombe, her protests that as he had burnt her workhouse dress, she could hardly have run away naked. Nor did they understand that her one experience of the Cyprian trade was due to hunger and desperation to earn sixpence to pay for a room in a cheap lodging house rather than risk the streets for a second night. Nobody had listened at the court. And at the Reformatory, branded a whore and a cheap one at that, Rose had had to endure unwelcome attention from some of the Masters. And now, her sentence was over, her conviction expunged but come the morning, she would be returned to Mr Anscombe’s house. Her stomach whirled with the thought.

She tried to sleep, lying on her stomach to remove the pressure from her tender rear. Even the blanket covering her seemed to hurt. But sleep was hard to come by. Her memory was constantly assailed by snatches of memory from the weekend….

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Category(s): Going Back in Time...., Real-Life Play...
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