Bend Over Jessica

This week, I am away – or rather my new character, Rose Gwylim is away – for a short sharp shock in Lord Fawcett’s Institute for Delinquent and Debauched Girls. The Institute is in a rural location, all the better for criminally-minded girls, who have broken the law, to be properly shown the error of their ways by a dedicated staff of sadists…sorry, upright members of the respectable Victorian community.

My character is based on what might have been a typical story of the period (circa 1850) – a respectable servant girl, an orphan, taken from a workhouse, abused by her employer, runs away, and resorts to prostitution whilst looking for another job, which would have been very hard to get without a reference. Rose has been caught whilst indulging in her first ‘sixpenny-upright’* and is brought before the magistrates where she is charged with whoring and, to add insult to injury, theft, given that she absconded from her job whilst still wearing her housemaid’s uniform, given that her new employer burnt her other clothes. Thus the magistrates decide that as she is a first-time offender, she will be given a short spell in the reformatory rather than sent to prison – but the reformatory is not really the easy option! Poor Rose….

He Who Must Be Obeyed had the idea of the reformatory about 18 months ago and it was always kept quite small until February 2009, when we had our first ‘large’ reformatory – four girls and three guys. This year, there will be five girls and four guys (it’s all our venue will take!) and I’m pretty sure that the combination of staff that are coming will strike fear and pleasure into me in equal measure.

You see, that’s the odd thing. I know perfectly well that for the entirety of the weekend I shall feel meek, scared, picked-on and abused. I know that I’ll receive severe corporal punishment, be forced to carry out punishment domestic work, such as scrubbing and the whole time, will be available as a plaything for any of the Masters who care to take advantage – and that even if I do pluck up the courage to complain to Dr Grimace, the head of the reformatory, that no one will take my word over that of one of the Masters. So you see, that creates the fear.

But at the same time, I shall have plenty of pleasure. All the chaps who are going are nice in real life and all know me well as a playmate, so will be able to push my buttons. There are also some lovely girls going and adversity is never as bad when you have friends to share it with you, to hug you and to dry your tears. And of course, because I am, I’m sorry to say, a rather perverse person, this kind of ‘non-consensual’ abuse is a huge turn-on for me. I hasten to add that the only reason it’s a turn on is that I can stop it if I want to, which is why I put ‘non-consensual’ in inverted commas!

Last year’s reformatory was one of the most intense BDSM experiences of my life. For a start, I felt really into the roleplay and the scene – I genuinely felt like I’d gone back one hundred years. Then there was the institutional nature of the experience – you were effectively stuck in the scene, you couldn’t leave, you were there for a sentence and your sentence had to be carried out. So you couldn’t say at any point ‘I don’t feel like being spanked right now’**. And it was strange to play with playmates who were being so strict – you had to be very careful with your banter, act deferentially towards the masters, take your punishment as decreed, not fight back.

Yet we still had fun. We still had hidden food and alcohol, whispered together after lights out, indulged in idle chatter, came up with the rudest names possible for the Masters (Dr Grimace, Mr Blackshaw and Mr Sykes quickly became Dr Grimarse, Mr Crack-Whore and Mr Psycho) and pulled the most disgusting faces behind the Master’s back or as soon as they were safely through the door. And somehow that made the beatings, the spankings, the birching, the cold showers, the domestic work, the boring lessons, the medical examinations, the lumpy porridge and the sheer unfairness of the bastards running the place worth it.

So yes, I am excited. This year’s staff have an awful lot to live up to. But somehow I’m sure that by the end of the weekend, I won’t be able to sit down. Bring it on!

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*It’s a shame they don’t have a www.1850urbandictionary.com.
**Although if anyone had safeworded, everything would have halted!