Being a dom is quite a different feeling for me than being submissive. Although I find both intensely erotic, as a dom I rarely have any sexual pleasure myself, being far more likely to have an orgasm if I’m on the bottom.

Firstly, as a dom, I suppose I could be labelled a ‘service top’. What I’m interested in is the mutuality of pleasure and more specifically that the submissive is having a good time. This means that I can often be found making my submissive girls beg for relief and then helping them along the way. My own release is secondary to that need.

Secondly, I tend to approach domming as a more intellectual exercise, rather than the visceral and natural pleasure I get from submission. As a submissive, I don’t have to think, just do and enjoy. As a dominant, I need to have my brain in gear, run the scene, watch reactions, change direction if circumstances change and a lot of the time, whack people with sticks, which requires concentration and care. I want the pain I dish out to be proportionate and enjoyed during and afterwards, which means I need to concentrate!

Thirdly, and this is more of a problem when co-topping, I don’t play sexually with a male dom if I am the co-top in a scene, which can sometimes come as something of a surprise to HWMBO and The Lover, with whom I have had some exciting M/F/F threesomes – when I’m being submissive. When I am taking the reins, I am very happy to watch, encourage and help along sexual activity, but penetration of any kind is out. Why? Because the act of penetration is dominant and if I’m the co-top, to ‘submit’ to penetration somehow sets me below the male dom**, when I am actually equal to him. This mindset runs alongside the irritation I feel if I am co-topping and the male dom makes a disparaging remark like “You’re not doing that hard enough.”

I do actually really enjoy being dom to girls. I like the way they writhe, I like the way they beg and I like the way they orgasm. I also like the fact that because I’m mostly submissive myself, I know exactly how to roll them – it gives me an excellent window into the world of the sub because I *know* how they feel and what they are going to do next. It increases my power by a factor of ten.

So I’m not going to stop doing it anytime soon.

Pleasure is found in so many different ways…..

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*Before trying to poison HWMBO and I by putting raw liver in with cooked salami on the top shelf of the fridge…
**In my head and in my own personal opinion. This is not the same for everyone.

Those of you who read and enjoyed my writing as Juliet Aston-Beresford at the late, great Lowewood Academy blog will know that Juliet enjoyed getting people into trouble. And since I’ve been playing more with other girls and especially given my own streak of dominance, I’ve discovered a new pleasure – getting the other girl into trouble. Unlike dear Juliet (like this for example), I’m not doing it maliciously, but I am suggesting rude things that I know they’d like to do but are too shy to ask for.

In addition, when the female friend is someone who I’ve previously dommed on my own, it gives me an ever-so-slightly elevated status in the three, the Head Girl to the Headmaster above her and the fifth-former below her, the junior manager to the CEO and the personal assistant, the Head Housemaid to the Master of the House and the new scullery maid. I’m still being submissive – but I do get the opportunity (lasciviously aided by HWMBO’s wickedness) to make the odd suggestion, which if she blushes about, he takes up with alacrity.

Being Piggy in this sense is great fun because as well as then knowing that my friend is having a great time, as am I, I also get to indulge one of my other kinky passions, voyeurism. Voyeurism often has a bad rap, because many people do it without the knowledge of the person they are watching, but in a kink context, it’s amazingly erotic to watch one of your lovely friends and your lovely husband get it on. Especially when you catch their eyes over HWMBO’s shoulder and you exchange a look of mutual mischief.

I think I’ll be playing Piggy lots more in 2010!

When I am taking the dom role, I am kind, considerate and desirous of the pleasure of the submissive I am with. I have also discovered that  I can be cruel, sadistic and take serious pleasure in the confusion and pain of my submissive – with the thought that this is what they want.  I know from that point of view that I can never be a real sadist, because I can only be cruel if I know that secretly, the playmate is getting off on it. If I really hurt them, I wouldn’t enjoy it; in fact I would be mortified.

Anyway, normally when I am the dom, my characters are firm but fair. I reward good behaviour and punish bad. But there is a side to me – my Mr Hyde side if you like – that enjoys causing confusion, fear and pain in a submissive. I like the power rush of it. This is most obvious when I play as Juliet Aston-Beresford, my head girl character. Those of you who used to read the Lowewood Academy blog will know that Juliet, whom I wrote, was a total psycho, could be conniving and evil, but also had a vulnerable side. However, in real-life play, you don’t get to see the vulnerable side. Oh no.

Strangely, quite a lot of my female friends (and Lowewood fans from all over the world) have told me that they find Juliet insanely sexy.

“But why?”  I cry.

“Because she’s a bitch” is the most common answer.

So there you have it. La Belle Dame Sans Merci. Juliet is pretty, sexually-active, wants her own way and doesn’t care how she gets it and is above all, cruel. And people love it. As do I. Because as Juliet, I don’t have to be nice. Jessica is nice. Juliet is not. And Juliet doesn’t care.

Ah, I love BDSM. It’s the contradictions you see!

Now, although I absolutely adore Uncle/Niece or Strict Guardian/Ward  play, I’ve never really got off on Daddy/Daughter to quite the same extent. Not sure why. I have no objection to anyone else’s kink – if you want to do Little Green Men from Mars/Earth Scientist or Fairy/Wizard play, that’s up to you. I’m not saying I won’t laugh very loudly and scornfully about it in private *but* that’s up to you. I’m sure that some of my play must seem utterly weird to others. But anyway, Daddy/Daughter. Hmmm. Not sure if it’s because I have a poor relationship with my own father, but it doesn’t really do it for me. And I felt similarly ambivalent when asked to be ‘Mother’ in a dom role.

Most of it was pure ego. I mean, I’m barely old enough to be anyone’s mother, never mind the mother of a teenager! But there was also a small part of me that understood that it felt a little bit taboo to me. My own mother is the most amazing person and would never lift a finger to me. So it felt..well, an odd situation! Anyway, I quickly realised that I would feel more comfortable playing a Stepmother than a real Mother, a blood relation. And so it was agreed that the young lady concerned would be HWMBO’s daughter and I would be the new, much younger Stepmother, saddled with a pretty daughter. Remind you of anything?

Yes you are quite right. Fairy Tales. Or specifically – Disney. And that was where my inspiration came from. I was going to channel some Disney Wicked Stepmothers. Specifically and my You Tube searches will prove it, Cruella de Ville from ‘101 Dalmatians’, the Wicked Queen from ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs’ and the Stepmother in ‘Cinderella’.

Watching the clips was really fascinating, partly because it reminded me that I adore Disney and know most of the words to every single song. But it was such an interesting dichotomy. The heroines of Disney are pretty younger women, often blonde and with the honourable exception of Belle in ‘Beauty and the Beast’, pretty vacuous and wimpish, especially Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. By contrast, their stepmothers are older powerful women, usually dark haired and in the case of Snow White’s stepmother, beautiful women in their own right, eclipsed as their step-daughters start to come into their own beauty, reminding them of their own mortality and that their own star is waning. Which is presumably where the cruelty comes from – from frustration and anger that these step-daughters, taking their first steps into the realms of love, are where they used to be (often not that long ago) and enjoying something  to which they can never return. And then they are driven by jealousy to do terrible things, in the case of Snow White, poisoning her with the apple because the Wicked Queen can’t stand the thought that her step-daughter might be more beautiful than her.

So it was with these confused thoughts that I stepped into the role – made more poignant somehow by the fact that my ‘step-daughter’ is actually a year older than me! And as ‘Camilla’*, I was frustrated, deeply frustrated with my new step-daughter, who was naughty at school, who embarrassed me in front of other mothers at the school gate, who spent money that my husband should be spending on me, who took time away from my husband and I, and who, when I stripped her to give her a cold shower for spreading anarchist thoughts in school, whose beautiful slim nakedness was an irritation and a  jealousy. And it showed, it really showed in my play as I took sadistic pleasure in humiliating her ** and punishing her. I was really channelling Cruella de Ville, even moving in the upright, silent, sinuous way that is depicted on screen.

In short, I was a sadistic bitch, in exactly the same way I am when I am Juliet Aston-Beresford, my Head Girl – but with more power.

Afterwards, when there were cuddles and laughter and expression of enjoyment, I felt a little better. But it made me realise that I really do have a dark side. I’m glad I can control it.

But the power, the rush – now that is exciting. I’m going to have to do a little more….

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*Don’t get confused. I tend to recycle my character’s names!
**In a good way. We had discussed it first!

Lessons began well enough, with Miss Anstruthers covering the ranks of the aristocracy, their titles and precedence so that Dorothea should not inadvertently insult anyone by introducing them to a lower-ranked person. Dorothea was well-behaved, amenable and proper, although showing a distressing tendency to roll her eyes and sigh when reprimanded, which was not only unladylike, but disrespectful. Thus when the lesson ended, Miss Anstruthers took the opportunity to remind Dorothea of her place. Dorothea, already cross at being made to wear her childish schoolroom dress and socks, as oppose to her young lady’s clothes, was recalcitrant. Miss Anstruthers stood no nonsense, briskly gripping Dorothea’s wrist and pulled her firmly across her lap and lifting her dress preparatory to giving her a firm but fair spanking.

That was when the first major sin was noted. Dorothea was not wearing proper undergarments, the kind that a young lady should wear, but rather frilly French knickers, made of silk and lace. Miss Anstruther’s was not a happy woman! The ‘drawers of Satan’ were swiftly removed and confiscated and it was only Dorothea’s heartfelt pleas that stopped Miss Anstruthers from burning them in front of her. It meant that Dorothea received and extra hard spanking, pinioned across Miss Anstruther’s lap, her legs held down by a capable leg and a hard hand spanking her firmly, bringing a bright red glow to Dorothea’s peachy bottom. Dorothea protested loudly and Miss Anstruther’s decided she was simply not getting through to Dorothea. Flipper her upright, she bent her charge across the Latimer spanking bench and picked up a tawse.

It soon occurred to Miss Anstruthers, as she used the tawse vigorously across her charge’s bottom, that it was not so much that Dorothea was wearing such repulsive undergarments, but where had she got them from? Dorothea’s mother had passed away in childbirth and  Miss Anstruthers would certainly not countenance such a purchase. Under questioning, Dorothea faltered but was honest. She had bought them that day in Bond Street.

Miss Anstruther’s smiled sweetly, never a good sign. Really?  That was odd. Miss Anstruther’s had had the afternoon off. Who had Dorothea gone to Bond Street with?

Her friend, Sarah.

And was Sarah a respectable married lady, suitable as a chaperone for a young unmarried girl who was not yet out or was she Miss Sarah Grieves, also a young unmarried girl and a bad influence on Dorothea at that?

Dorothea conceded that the latter was the case, causing Miss Anstruthers to mentally grind her teeth. Did Dorothea not realise what would become of her reputation if it was to go around town that she’d been out, shopping, in broad daylight, on her own? Did she not realise that a ruined reputation would make her unmarriageable and only suitable to marry a clerk?

Silence. Miss Anstruthers reached for her trusty cane. A short sharp shock was the only way to cure such blatant and studied disobedience. Dorothea was bent over her own desk, skirt up and legs shoulder-width apart and told to brace herself for the cane. And so it was that Miss Anstruthers laid the cane sharply across Dorothea’s bottom, first six, then a further six.

It was then Miss Anstruthers noticed a certain excitement about Dorothea’s person and smiled slightly to herself. Perhaps they would get onto the second part of today’s lesson – the urges of husbands – somewhat more precipitously than expected? Gently, she slid her hand over Dorothea’s bottom and between her legs, noting the excitement that she found there. Slowly, she stroked Dorothea until she was wriggling with pleasure and then rummaging through her governess’s bag, she produced some powdered ginger, used for soothing tired arms and legs and carefully anointed Dorothea’s most secret parts with the ginger, nodding in satisfaction as Dorothea wriggled, gulped and then semi-sobbed that she’d never do it again as the cruel ginger stung her most precious places in an unbearable manner. Miss Anstruthers stepped back, admired her handiwork and then delivered a further 12 harsh strokes of the cane.

After that, Miss Anstruthers thought that Dorothea had been a good girl and deserved a treat. Something nice. So she did something very nice indeed to Dorothea, and after the little moans and cries had subsided, sent her to wash and change for bed. Once Dorothea, looking sweet and innocent in her nightdress was ready for bed, Miss Anstruthers summoned her to her private chambers. It had been a hard day and now she felt that Dorothea could show her gratitude to her governess. Dorothea was happy to do so. And then is was prayer s and bed. Miss Anstruthers prayed hard for a successful marriage for her pupil. That, after all, was what she would eventually be judged on after the wedding bells had subsided!

We are looking for a submissive male who is into domestic service. You can see the full advert at www.informedconsent.co.uk/p/LadyFawcett  but I’m going to paraphrase my advert here.

Sexy man who looks good in breeches and loves washing up and fetching drinks needed for kinky country weekend. Shenanigans you won’t believe but if you thought servants had it hard in 1809, you’d be absolutely right. Long days, no shirkers need apply, spanking provided.

So both Lady Emma and I have been deluged with men who read an advert for ‘domestic service’ and assume that it means a bit of foot-massage followed by untrammelled attention from a bevy of dominant lovelies for their own pleasure. Despite the fact that the advert says quite clearly that you have to work. So I’ve had quite a few MSN conversations where I explain it to the guys in bald terms and they are incredulous. What on earth do you get out of it, they ask?

Now I don’t know if this is just another example of why women actually do all the housework, because men don’t realise it’s there, but seriously, since when did being a submissive become all about what the submissive wants? I should say at this point that I think any relationship is about equal pleasure to both participants, with the prospect that good submission is rewarded. Now I actually perform and enjoy domestic service as a submissive and I know perfectly well that it’s hard work and can be rewarding, but a lot of the time you spend tucked away doing it, not being in the thick of things being noticed. And it seems to me that many of the male subs that have contacted me – and I have no idea if this applies to female subs as well – can’t see the pleasure that is involved in performing a service for them. I’m not sure if this is all part of the Generation Y ‘Me’ crowd, where the idea of being subservient to anybody is an anathema.

I’ve actually been asked ‘how much play will I get’ or ‘how many strokes a day will I get’. Like dominants are some kind of machine who dish out a rationed number of strokes per day, not breathing human beings who like to play as the whim takes them. The attitude is very much ‘what’s in it for me’.  And it makes me sad – because when I am feeling submissive, my own pleasure is very far from my mind and what matters to me is the excitement of my play partner. I guess we’re hoping to find the same in a footman.

A footman! A footman! My kingdom for a footman!

He Who Must Be Obeyed and I were at a private party this week to welcome the lovely Caroline and Graham on their first visit to the UK. They were both on a spanking tour – they kicked off their sojourn with a visit to Lowewood Academy and then a few days later (after time for their bottoms to recover!), the lovely Abel & Haron hosted a party.

The party was top-heavy with girls (nine of us to three chaps) so I decided* to take the Dom role for the evening. Now, I’m not a switch – i.e, I’m not 50% inclined in each direction, but more like 85% submissive – but I do in the right headspace, really enjoy taking the Dom role with girls.** Especially as I’m not allowed any CP on my backside until the 3rd of July!

I reported earlier this week that when I’m feeling frustrated, my Dom side seems so much darker than usual. So once I got into the party headspace, I wasn’t going to take any disobedience from anyone. Sadly for Rebecca, she discovered that when roused, I can be extremely mean.

I’d played a short scene with Rebecca and Caroline in which I, in my role as Juliet Aston-Beresford, Head Girl of Lowewood Academy, has seen fit to deal with Rebecca and Caroline for foul and abusive language. There was the usual lecture, the obligatory small humiliations and then a sound punishment – a good spanking each, the strap, slipper and finally the cane, including a couple of strokes across the thighs. The caning was particularly piquant, because at the same time, Abel was caning another girl in another room and her pitiful sobs for mercy were very audible. So much so, I deliberately left Caroline and Rebecca bending over whilst they listened. Nothing like knowing that you’re next…

The girls were then informed that if they swore in my hearing again, I would spank their legs firmly from thigh to ankle.  Not ten minutes after being dismissed, Rebecca swore again, whilst sitting at my feet, and was promptly hauled over my knee and had her legs spanked from thighs to ankles. Several times. The wriggling was such a pitch that she nearly fell off my lap and I thought the message had gone home and she felt duly chastened.

Not at all. Ten minutes later, I raised an eyebrow at her as she just managed to stop herself from swearing. She, rather insolently, it must be said, raised an eyebrow back at me. I glared at her. She glared back with interest. A challenge to authority. I knew what I had to do.

Grabbing her by the hair, I frogmarched her upstairs to an unoccupied room, pushed her firmly onto the bed and picked up a handy tawse*** , yanked down her knickers and proceeded to thrash her unmercifully with the tawse until she yelped, wriggled and finally, sobbed. Once I could sense that the sprit had been (temporarily, I assure you dear readers!) broken, I gave her another 12 hard stokes. Then stopped and explained to her exactly what she was and wasn’t allowed to do. Namely, that if she was told not to do something, she didn’t do it. No excuses. Message rammed home, I thought she deserved a bottom rub with some moisturiser and a cuddle.

During the cuddle, I told her the final part of her punishment. Her face dropped.

“Do I have to?” she whispered.

“Yes you do.” I said firmly. She bit her lip and nodded.

I won’t reveal here what it is, but never let it be said that I can’t be creative.

Yes, it was an excellent night!

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*Purely in the interests of fairness. There was no pleasure in it for me. (keeps straight face)
**Not chaps. It seems wrong. Sorry chaps!
***I love houses where implements are readily to hand. It reminds me of home….

You see, my pearly white bottom is currently suffering from a blemish. A mark. A little red spot that appears when someone smacks me. This is a sign that my skin is feeling a bit overworked on the smacking front and therefore, the cure is to have a month without spanking. Or strapping. Or caning. Or birching. Or anything at all like that.

It doesn’t mean that I can’t play – far from it, there are many other things that can be done to me, such as spanking my thighs or tawsing my hands or sticking me in a cold shower or playing with me and wax or using a dildo or bondage or blindfolds or gags or just plain old-fashioned shagging but there is nothing like a smacked bottom*.

So until the end of June, I am without spankings. Given that I am inclined to have a smart mouth, especially when cross and out-of-sorts, this must also be very frustrating for the doms in my life. In fact, if in July I have to pay for every smart comment I’ve made by..er…the middle of June, I shan’t be able to sit down until August. Which will slightly negate the point of having a month off.

And you know, when you can’t have something, it becomes steadily more attractive. Is this why people start smoking? I am now not only dreaming about spanking, but fantasising about it constantly, yearning to feel a hand crack across my bottom, to wriggle, to cry.

I’m having to distract myself. Which means my dominant side is coming out to play. And there’s nothing worse than having a frustrated dom. They tend to be so much meaner, driven to the heights of evilness in a way of letting it all out.

I noticed my hands were twitching yesterday. Does this mean I’m going cold turkey?

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*Or a Dame for that matter.

Jessica has been around, in more way than one, more or less continuously over the last ten years. I’ve come a long way – from a scared teen novice to a slightly cynical observer of the lives, loves and gossip of the world of kink.

To say something serious, I suppose that I am defined by my desires. My desires are sometimes equally hard to define – but all I know is that I gain immense pleasure form indulging in behaviour that other, more narrow-minded people would condemn as deviant. Well all I’ll say to that* is that it’s my life and I’m living it the best way that I can. My worst fear is to get to a certain age and look back and say ‘God, I wish I’d done that’. Sure, there have been times in the past and there will be times in the future where I think ‘I really wish I hadn’t done that’. But most of the time I think – ‘I love this – give me more!’

To be able to indulge my imagination and my lust to such a degree is all part of what makes me the beautifully kinky (and sometimes just a little bit twisted) person that I am. I’ve never hidden how I feel – all those close to me, my husband, my playmates, my family, friends and lovers all know what I am and what drives me. I have no idea where my desires originated or why I am the way I am. But I’m damn comfortable in my skin. I think that’s the best place to be.

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*at this moment in time