Today’s blogpost is brought to you by another reader with a taste for the ritual and atmosphere of school punishment roleplay. My mistress and I occasionally indulge in a public school style beating whereupon I am summoned to the prefects’ common room, instructed to bend over a plain wooden chair, and given six of the [...]
Posts Tagged ‘school uniform’
The story continues at Spanked in Uniform
One of the things I like best about Spanked in Uniform is the ongoing storylines. I’ve filmed three episodes in total for St Catherine’s Private School for Girls, and the latest one was the second part of my story arc with Amelia Jane Rutherford, The Fourth Detention.
In part 2, Amelia and I are very, very annoyed that the Headmaster doesn’t believe that the two of us were clever enough to have written under multiple pseudonyms, using different writing styles, in our secret underground school magazine. He wants us to name the other girls involved and in detention that day we’d told him that there aren’t any other girls, it was all us. When he says that he’ll punish us every night before bed until we confess, we decide we have to act, and hatch a plan to tell him there were two other girls involved – but giving him the names of two classmates who have since left the school, so he won’t be able to do anything about it.
To our dismay, the Headmaster immediately checks the school register and discovers that the other two aren’t at the school any more; worse, he doesn’t even believe us that they were involved in the magazine before they left!
I had an absolutely lovely time playing this scene: getting to be very young and very conspiratorial with Amelia, and outraged that he won’t believe anything we tell him, and then ever so sorry for ourselves that our hand spanking every night has been changed to a strapping. We got twenty each with the strap (it really hurt, I was wincing as I watched it!), and the last eight were kneeling up with our backs arched, which is a really difficult position to try and maintain while being spanked. Amelia took her strokes first and got extra for moving, so when mine came I tried to stay absolutely still, and the only way I could manage it was by shrieking and sobbing instead. It felt like a story from an Enid Blyton book – we were both such heroines and being treated so badly, it was wonderfully self-indulgent.
My favourite line from this scene was Amelia’s at the end: “When I’m an old lady and I’m 35 I’m going to say to people ‘look at my bottom, look at the scars I’ve got, that’s because of that bastard Headmaster!’”
Switch marks
Here are some photos from years ago which I really like, but never got round to posting. They’re from a scene I played with HH back in 2007.
I was the nervous niece bringing a letter home from school, knowing I was in for it. He was my uncle, furious that I’d disappointed him. I was sent out into the garden with a pair of shears with my dress tucked into my knickers, and told to return with some suitable switches. Nervewracking: trying to cut the knobbly bits off each one, anxious that they’ll be too thick and heavy, or that he’ll deem them not thick and heavy enough and I’ll incur further punishment.
By the time this photo was taken, I’d not only been switched, but also been dragged into the bathroom for a dose of the bathbrush over wet knickers. That was pretty bad – but having to stay in the super-exposed position kneeling on the footstool with my hands on the floor while he striped my bottom and thighs with the switch was even worse.
Still, as Kami Robertson pointed out recently – the thing about switches is that your bottom ends up victorious, while the switch lies in pieces on the floor.
Photos (c) Henry Higgins
Ping pong paddling
There’s been a photoset going up on Northern Spanking over the last few weeks which I first blogged about a month ago. It’s called ‘Pandora and the Tutor’, and is of interest not only for its evocative Blushes-era atmosphere, but because when the first update came out I was astonished – for the first time ever, I had apparently genuinely forgotten about a scene. I had no memory of shooting those pictures at all.
The thing is that I hadn’t forgotten shooting all of it. I’d only forgotten the first half, upstairs, in which the tutor scolds me, spanks me over his knee, and forces me to adopt undignifying positions over a chair for further punishment. This isn’t an ordinary detention – it’s prolonged, horrible, a Friday night when everyone else has gone home, alone with this awful old man* with no way of knowing how far it’s going to go, and no way to stop him.
*Michael Stamp is brilliant really, and not actually very old, despite the receding hairline.
Dissatisfied with my humiliation over the chair, the tutor decides that further methods are necessary. I am handed a PE kit and sent down the echoing stairs to the basement, where I’m to get changed and await him.
It’s gloomy and dusty in the basement. There’s a few odds and ends down here – a games table, some gym equipment – but it doesn’t see much use. Goosepimples prickle my arms as I get changed. The PE kit isn’t much of one, really: gym knickers and a vest. That’s it. It’s so cold I can’t bear to go barefoot, so I keep my school shoes and socks on and hope I won’t get into more trouble for it. I huddle by the only radiator while I wait, shivering, for the sound of footsteps on the stair.
I remember shooting the next part.
Altogether, it was a deliciously unpleasant, non-consensual, abusive sort of school scene, exactly the sort of fantasy to get me all hot and bothered inside my gym knickers. I got to wallow in victimhood and feel thoroughly sorry for myself, especially when the tutor put me into the diaper position on the ping pong table.
How unimaginably awful! I didn’t know where to look: I certainly couldn’t look at him. Thank god he didn’t make me take my knickers off first. But the ping pong paddle hurt much, much worse when my bottom was all exposed like that, with the skin stretched tight and him deliberately aiming the whacks above the knickers, right on the most vulnerable part of my thighs.
Oh, I loved it really. Love love loved it.
Yes – of course I remembered that ping pong spanking. It was so exciting that it apparently eclipsed the whole previous section of the scene entirely from my memory.
Reader’s photos
How are you? The start of this week sees me neck-deep in code for Dreams of Spanking, which is progressing slowly but surely (although less surely than it would be if I wasn’t also contending with moving-house admin, social organising, overdue tax forms and other tedious miscellany obstinately getting in the way of the work I SHOULD be doing). Still, the site build will get done, and hopefully I’ll have a clear run at it at least one of the days this week before I go and visit Tom in his new crashpad this weekend.
In the meantime, I thought I’d share with you some photos readers and correspondents have sent me lately.
The first is a rare glimpse into the exclusive world of the Geneva Ladies College, sent to me by its Headmaster, Mr Woodrow Anders. Looking at it I can feel my palms become clammy in sympathy:
These next two were sent to me by my friend John after one of his encounters with a play partner, including some “Californian-style” caning (one of my favourites ever since the delightful Zille was kind enough to introduce me to the technique!) I think partly he wanted to show off his handiwork, but also the fine-looking derrière of his lady friend T, whose age he challenged me to guess:
I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting it when he told me she was 63. Although perhaps I should have been? After all, I know many scene ladies, those in their primes and those approaching mature age, whose bottoms are far more toned and shapely than mine. Which makes sense – the older I get, the more care and attention I pay to my health, and the more exercise I do, so perhaps my physique will continue to improve with age as well.
Either way, I certainly intend to still be taking canings well into my old age, and I can only hope that my play partners will still find me spankable for many years to come.
Fiction and non-fiction

Click to view BBC footage of a boy’s school cross country run from 1948
I dreamed the other night about reading an autobiography of some (fictional) well-known man. My dream, of course, focussed on his school experience. The most memorable part was his recollection of cross-country PE. Long runs through beautiful green English countryside in horrible grey English weather. Icy wind and stinging rain that raised goose-pimples on your bare legs below your scratchy white shorts. And a sadistic PE master who would wait for you at a turning point, cane in hand – ostensibly to prevent the boys from getting lost, but missing no opportunity to slash at you across your damp, chafing shorts to encourage you along.
Because this was a dream, the same PE master could be waiting at every crossroads, snug in his warm blazer, applying a cane stroke to the seat of a struggling boy every few minutes during their 3 mile cross-country run.
I think I know where the dream came from. I’m still hobbling around on crutches after spraining my ankle last Wednesday, and when she was visiting over the weekend Adele Haze told us a story from an Australian autobiography she’d read – a true story, although I can’t remember who told it – of a school teacher who delighted in caning the hands of the boy with the hurt leg with special relish, knowing he’d have to use his welted hands to make his way back to the back of the class on crutches. I shuddered when I heard it, sickened and unable to fetishise such targeted cruelty when I’m struggling so much with mobility at the moment.
Despite having loathed cross-country runs at school almost as much as I currently hate being unable to walk unaided, the school scenario of my dream appeals to me much more. Perhaps when I’m off the crutches my kinky brain will be able to appreciate the sadism of the true story, but in the meantime fiction suits me just fine.
Caught reading
Today's the last day of my self-imposed deadline for editing the films and photosets I want to launch with. I've made good progress the last couple of weeks, although not quite as much as I'd have liked, as I had to spend one day doing some owed work for a vanilla client, another earning money, and on Wednesday I managed to sprain my ankle during a stumble coming down steps in the train station, which meant no more editing on Wednesday. But I've picked things up the last couple of days, and have been photo-editing at a rate of knots… with the result that I've finished two new galleries in as many days. Woohoo!
Both these two photosets, and most of the others remaining to be edited, date way back to 2006 when I first started filming scenes for my own purposes with Tom and D, before the Dreams of Spanking concept was even firmed up in my mind. All I knew at that point was that I wanted to create my own professional-quality spanking material with my own partners.
Shooting with Sarah Gregory
I recently had the pleasure of playing host to Sarah Gregory and her real-life daddy Paul ‘Tubaman’ Rogers on their UK tour. It was great to have the opportunity to meet them, and working together was lots of fun.
I’d originally hoped for a shoot trade, but Sarah’s schedule was insane (all power to that lady – her energy puts even me to shame!) and there wasn’t time to squeeze in a second day. So it looks like I’ll need to make the trip to visit her if I want to include her in my own productions – which I might well do, as she was great fun to work with. In the meantime, expect to see me on Sarah Gregory Spanking sometime, alongside all the UK stars she shot with on her whirlwind tour – I’m particularly looking to see what she got up to with Leia Ann Woods and Amelia Jane Rutherford!

We filmed a bunch of short clips for Paul’s forthcoming Spanking 101 site, including some funny “how not to” instructional videos. On top of these there were a couple of “spanking shorts” for Paul, in which I got spanked in a ridiculously small pair of denim short shorts, made even more revealing by rips in the back. (They had Tom’s eye roving a fair bit when I bumped into him between shooting: note to self, bring those back out when I’m feeling the need for some toppy attention!) With three longer roleplay scenes for Sarah’s site thrown in, complete with stills, it was a full day.

The scenarios included an F/f college room-mates one in which Sarah takes revenge on me for plagiarising her term paper, and a fun school scene with both of us in matching English school uniforms and Paul as the teacher (who, in the story, was also Sarah’s dad, with her having travelled with him when he got the job in England… which meant her character thought she could get away with murder, and was quickly proved wrong!).
I love dressing up in the sort of actual uniform I had to wear as a kid, complete with thick woolly sweaters which are completely unsexy to everyone except spankos. (And completely the wrong clothing for a hot and muggy English summer day – we were sweating throughout, and as soon as the camera was off we stripped off as fast as we could just to cool down!) For some reason whenever I’m wearing something like this on a shoot the skirt always ends up a size too small and the jumper a size too big, which makes the whole thing feel even more incongruous. Although it does also result in the skirt being very very tight when you’re bent over a lap, so maybe it’s partly deliberate.

My favourite scene was an ingenious – and very American! – one in which I played a college student trying to get accepted into a sorority. I had to knock on a random door in my neighbourhood, and, squirming with embarrassment, ask whoever answered the door to spank me, hard, with hand and wooden paddle. Only if my bottom was deemed red enough in the ensuing photographic evidence would I be accepted, otherwise I’d have to start all over again with a different door.
It was a cool concept: totally consensual, to the extent of the bottom driving the scene and the top amiably (if appreciatively!) going along with things.

Paul played the kindly neighbour very well indeed – his gentle courtesy really added to the role. My character was dying of humiliation, but also sort of determined to only go through with it once, so even though she hated being spanked she kept asking if her bottom was red enough yet, and insisting that Paul spank her harder when she was worried that the results wouldn’t be good enough! It was a psychological angle I’d never really done before, and it was interesting to play with.
Someone had clearly been reading my recent tweets expressing my recent fixation with wooden paddles as a fantasy. This wasn’t one of the thick ones with holes in, but it still packed a hefty punch, and ten solid whacks with it (actually eleven, as my character was concerned that one wasn’t hard enough, and asked for one of them again! Madness!) were not to be sneezed at. In fact, including the other clips, I think I took a total of seventeen swats with that paddle over the course of the day. Adrenaline and the roleplay scenario made it easier to take the ten than I’d expected, although I wouldn’t want to do it every day. But I don’t think it cured me of the fantasy!

Spanked in Uniform: the fourth detention
Wow, the last two weeks have been CRAZY. I’m normally busy, but this last fortnight I’ve barely been home. Work events in London; two days filming in Holland for Spanked in Uniform with Amelia-Jane Rutherford; a lightning turnaround before a weekend away with friends; another super-fast turnaround before a two day shoot with Caroline Grey [...]

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