Friday, October 23, 2009

Midterms and Mishaps

Apologies for the long pause in entries! As a university student, I am prone to fall into bouts of examination, during which the rest of my life routinely goes on hold, until the fever dies and the exams pass (or, rather, I pass the exams! :D)

Meanwhile, along with the stress of studying and sleep-depriving come some very interesting dreams... :D

I have two for you from this time! In hopes of making up for the time lapse...

First, earlier last week, around Tuesday or Wednesday night, I ventured very briefly into the elusive land of kinky dreams, armed with my exam-anxiety... I dreamt that I was taking a test -- one of those mostly multiple choice/some short answer/one or two essays tests... (not that I have those anymore... at this stage I'm either writing extensive papers or giving 30-minute in-class presentations instead...)... For some odd reason, I couldn't concentrate on the test -- perhaps it was because I was so very acutely aware of the consequences of wrong answers...

Every point off, our professor had explained, would be dealt with after-the-fact by means of cane strokes. *blush* You can imagine my distress...

I even knew the counting system: the multiple choice questions, worth less than the short answer and essay, would only merit one stroke per wrong answer. For every point off on the short answer, however, it was another two strokes, and for the essay/s, three. That's three strokes of the cane for every single missing point on the essays!!

Desperately, I sat there staring at the exam paper, stuck somewhere in the middle of the multiple choice questions, already starting to feel the heat build...

Thus ended that lovely dream (I told you it was brief!)... and promptly the next morning off I went to tackle the first of my midterms!

Later (earlier this week), as exams were winding down, I was graced with another intriguing nightly journey, this time to "The Land of Mishaps"...

Terribly odd, I know.

I felt like I was in that book... *thinks very deeply for a moment to fish around for the title* ...the crossroad to..?, the bus stop..., the station of... Ah! The Phantom Tollbooth. A very interesting book -- I'd recommend it -- a quick read, full of lovely metaphors for life lessons and whatnot... Anyway, "The Land of Mishaps" felt very much like the world of The Phantom Tollbooth, with rather bizarre concepts and plays-on-words floating around everywhere, and colored (as is the book) with a kind of British-y tint :D

(I swear, my kink will probably always harbor a connection with British concepts and ideas, I think because my first exposure to kink was through Roald Dahl's children's (and other) books, and my first fantasies thus followed the pattern of old English school children, etc...)

"The Land of Mishaps" was quite full of all these lovely, quirky people, who had come to accept and even to relish the fact that their daily lives were to be ridden with mishaps and mistakes and misunderstandings and misdirections and mis-speaks and mis-thrown objects and misfires and missing items... Things went wrong everywhere all the time and all of Mishaps's inhabitants simply thought of it as everyday life...

I don't know by what means I'd come to find myself there, or what I was supposed to be doing there, but I do know that in the dream, I wasn't a regular resident of Mishaps. I was still very much of the mind that I should avoid mishaps when possible, and thus stuck out like a purple-polka-dotted hippopotamus trying to fit into a puddle.

People stared at me when I didn't trip and fall on my face when I stepped up or down from a roadside curb, or when the door didn't swing back and hit me on the way out of a building (as if I could control the *door's* decisions!) :P

Ladies in the coffee-shop would mutter behind their hands and point at me when I finished a drink without spilling a single drop on myself... Strapping young lads would turn away as if uninterested when I pronounced a difficult word correctly or could always find my keys in my purse when I got to my unchipped, undented, pristine little car.

The discomfort of such social estrangement got to the point (days in dreamland, probably something like minutes in real-time) where I started seriously considering making mistakes on purpose, just to fit in. Small ones, you know, not like misplacing my car or mistaking someone's intentions, but perhaps I could mearn to lis-speak every thow and nen, or "mis-step" and stumble into some handsome man's arms...

But it wasn't until a few days (minutes) later, while sitting in a coffee shop, presumably reading or writing or studying or somesuch, that I happened to overhear a conversation which convinced me, once and for all, that I had to learn to pretend-mishap.

A young woman, perhaps a few years older than me but not many, was sitting across the way at a table with an older, smart-looking gentleman (in a grey suit-jacket and hat), whom I assumed, from their conversation, to be a romantic partner of hers. Perhaps, as I suspected in the dream, her husband.

The couple were quirky and lovely to begin with, stumbling over each other on their way into the cafe and then misdirecting each other to sit in the seat that each was in fact intending as their own... Once they were finally settled and had already mis-ordered twice before correcting themselves, the gentleman flipped out (on the second try) a tiny little black notebook, fitted an over-large monocle to one eye, and began to address the woman (probably his wife).

"Now, Dear, I believe that's" (and scribbling down in his notebook as he continues) "one stumble on the way in, one attempt at the wrong tide of the sable, and *two* mistakes in ordering! Add that to--" At this point his monocle popped out and it took him two tries to get it back in the right way, meanwhile his wife was turning redder by the second and fidgeting in her seat. "--Add that to shutting your cress in the dar door, excuse me, your *dress* in the *dar* coor, oh, hang-it-all, you know what I mean -- along with mis-matching your shoes, and mistaking the mailman for the milkman, or, that is, the milkman for the mailman..., and we've got..." he moved his pen down his notebook along what seemed to be the meticulous list he'd been referencing, counting under his breath as he went... "Six mishaps you've got to pay for so far!" The astonishment and gleefulness in his voice seemed misplaced next to his wife's wide eyes and wringing hands.

Quietly, letting her eyes roam down his list and then fix back upon his smiling face, she said, "Oh, you've mis-calculated, Dearest, it's seven."

"Seven! You are rite quight! Er, quite, quite right, rather... Now, how should you like to receive your comeuppance? By --" she seemed to become suddenly aware of the publicity of their surroundings, and made a move to try to quiet him, but instead managed only to knock his pen off the table, which could not make enough noise to cover the rest of his question, "-- the tawse, strap, or cane?"

Burying her face in his shoulder, she only groaned softly as he realized his mistake, and chuckled, comforting her. "Oh don't worry my sweet, it's only this young lady nearby who can hear us, and you know how she is -- can't get a mistake out of her! Can we, Mister? Excuse me, I mean, Miss?"

To my amazement, as I was still rather in delightful shock, the grey-hatted gentleman was appealing to me, and I could only stare hungrily with my mouth slightly agape and shake my head weakly...

"See there? She won't tell a soul -- have a heart darling -- come, let's get home and take bare of cusiness. Er..." Patting her shoulder and guiding her up and toward the door, he smiled and winked at me as they passed.

Just before waking up, I remember conceiving of a solid dream-resolution to begin making as many mistakes as I could, and to enter into more relations with that intriguing couple... :P

Great to be back! Hope everyone has had a marvelous two weeks :D

Friday, October 9, 2009

Who Stole the Cookies??

Couldn't help but start thinking of one thing in particular when I saw this picture... :D

That faerie is no Tinkerbell, but she's certainly about to be in a lot of trouble...! :P

Not to mention the cute view, and very convenient position... :D

Who do you suppose will catch her? Her father? Boyfriend, maybe? Perhaps her little sister, jealous that she didn't get there first... Maybe Mr. and Mrs. Mouse happen to be strolling by...?

Do you think they'd let her keep her tight skirt or even her striped stockings on whilst she endured the consequences of her actions? : ) Will she have to be restrained, or do you think she'd be able to stay firmly bent over the edge of the cookie jar until it was over?

Not that I'm encouraging the corporal punishment of lovely little faeries in any way... but this one did kind of ask for it... :D

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

A Plethora of Skirts!

In much the same vein (or 'vain') as my previous kinky shopping trip, I have suddenly started being much more open to buying... well... short skirts :D

It used to be that every single skirt I owned (which wasn't many) reached my ankles. Then, I got my first *knee*-length skirt -- scandalous! :P Most of my skirts now are knee-length, mostly due to the fact that I am rather insecure about the rest of my legs... But, recently, shorter skirts have been catching my eye...

Not in the least because of my (also recently acquired) love of plaid:

(the straight-backed wooden hairbrush is just for length-reference, I swear... :D)

But also due to other attractions such as cute little belts:

(don't mind the wrinkles, I have yet to learn how to use an iron... :P)

And peace signs!! :D

*claps hands together excitedly!*

Of course, these features are all secondary to the fact that, being shorter than anything I would ever wear in public, they offer a rather enticing view (not featured here :D) for any potential spankers... :P **

**Please note, I'm not this raunchy in person, and actually am usually quite shy... so short skirts like this are quite new for me, and wearing one in the presence of kinky company is only slightly easier than downright asking for a spanking :D *blushes*

Friday, October 2, 2009

Studded Leather

The joys and woes of living with housemates will be known by many. Personally, I enjoy being around people enough that the joys have by far outweighed the woes (*knock on wood*) in most of my living situations. :D People are very effective sources of entertainment, when you know where to look *big grin*

Take last night, for example.

Housemate A, we'll call him John, was sitting on the couch with his computer in his lap (the only PC user in the house), and the TV on. Now John, as it happens, *knows* about my kink, and is gracious enough to respect my wishes for discreetness, even though he can be a tad playfully suggestive at times (which is quite entertaining for me, as you can imagine... :D).

Sitting next to John was Housemate B, we'll call her Mary, and standing behind the couch was Housemate C, we'll call him Dave.

One of Mary's belts happened to be slung over the back of the couch -- a 1.5", black, fo-leather, silver-studded one. Dave noticed it and picked it up, musing, "Hey, this belt has studs on it... that could really hurt people..."

I'm starting to turn red already.

But it doesn't stop there! "Let's see how much it hurts," exclaims Dave, and proceeds to double the belt over and start whapping his own upper thigh with it, quite hard.

John, from his position on the couch, grins and decides to chime in, "You should try in on Rayne. That might be more effective..." I happen to be passing by on my way into the kitchen at this moment, and reply with a fake-indignant, "Hey!!" even though Dave doesn't take John's advice, and continues whacking his leg instead.

"It doesn't hurt." Dave sounds rather disappointed.

"You're wearing jeans--that nullifies half the pain right there--" I'm relieved that he doesn't seem to find my knowledge on the subject odd or telling. Once I'm safely in the kitchen, I call out, "You should take your pants off!"

Sadly, Dave's sense of propriety remains true, and when I come back to the living room his pants are still safely on, and the belt placed neatly back over the back of the couch, at Mary's protesting, "You're gonna break my belt!"

I couldn't refrain from 'accidentally' knocking John in the back of the head (lightly!) as I went back to my seat, and he chuckled, but said no more.

Yay kinky surprises in a vanilla household! :P