I recently had several scene friends come to visit me for a traditional music festival in my hometown. I was shocked at just how many had accepted the invitation- I had not realised there was such an overlap in interest.

I am still buzzing from what was a wonderful week on so many levels, and also incredibly relieved that it worked. Relieved that we were able to work out sleeping arrangements for the bunch who stayed in my apartment. Relieved that everyone found events which interested them. Relieved that everyone made it around town and back to wherever they were sleeping each night without getting lost. Relieved that everyone seemed to have a good time. Relieved that my scene friends and local friends mixed without incident.

We were discreet, but not quite as discreet as one might be at a moderated munch. None of the onlookers said anything, but there were a few raised eyebrows, a few lingering stares. It was apparent to some that this was no group of casual acquaintances.

Some already knew who my visitors were. Those I have told about my other life hear the phrase “my Dublin friends” for the code that it is. Others, I feel, have suspicions. A few have asked directly; the cover story that ye all are friends I’ve met in other pubs on my travels breaks down a bit occasionally among my local pub friends.

These two lives that I had kept so separate have started to mix. And. . .life goes on. This thing that I had been so anxious about turned out to be a non-event. That, in itself, is remarkable.

Thank you all for being amazing friends!

For Whom the Bell Tolls

There once was a bright brass school bell

Whose clang could raise demons from hell.

At the sound of its chime

Classes started on time

On late students no others would tell.


But one day a bright student thought

And prayed that she would not get get caught

With a glance to the side

That bell she did hide

What trouble her actions had bought!


When classes were due to begin

The students assumed they would win.

There’d be no detention

For by school convention

That bell was the cue to come in.


The students let out a loud cheer

And some of them opened a beer,

For outside of school

And its no-drinking rule

They had no spankings to fear.


Two teachers had gone for a drink

Oh what would their students think!

When staff, too, were tardy

And perhaps foolhardy

As they from their duties did shrink.


When word of this reached the headmaster

He found one young lady and asked her

To return the school bell

Or she he’d expel

To avert any further disaster.


The young lady wisely kept mum;

The poor girl did fear for her bum!

The swish of the cane

Would lead to much pain

Regardless of the outcome.


The headmaster growled in frustration;

Late teachers were put on probation.

The students were told

To not be so bold

And that bell-theft did not mean vacation.


When he took up a cane in his fist

The students knew he, too, was pissed,

Though not from the sauce

But from the bell’s loss

And all were now on his hit list!


Written for the CLASS Ireland Limerick Virtual Event


Book of the Month: How to Think More about Sex by Alain de Botton


Something different this month. Thus far, I’ve only been featuring erotic fiction. While there will still be plenty of that featured here, I’ve recently delved more deeply into non-fiction writing on spanking, BDSM, and sexuality more generally and will be featuring those books as well from time to time, starting with Alain do Botton’s How to Think More about Sex.

While the book is somewhat superficial in nature and prone to sweeping, not-necessarily-accurate statements, I still found some of the insights to be particularly thought-provoking, particularly those in the discussion around fetishes, boldness, and intimacy.

However, this was, to put it mildly, a challenging read. Leaving aside the ironies of an asexual reading a book about sex, I found myself fundamentally disagreeing with the author on several key issues.  (For regular readers here, I’d imagine you’d have a similarly intense reaction to chapter 4.) The points raised, however, are valid and delivered clearly and conversationally. Reading felt quite like a good debate in the pub (the glasses of wine I had while reading probably helped this mindset). Discussion would be intense but civil, and while neither of use would be persuaded to fully embrace the other’s conclusions, we’d both leave with a deeper understanding of the others perspective and reasoning, tempering our own views.

I also have to laugh at the fact that I could identify with both halves of each of the theoretical couples presented in the book. While I might not agree with the final conclusions proposed, the observations and suggestions along the way will doubtless prove useful for me as I navigate the world of D/s relationships and my local scene.

Available from The School of Life


Published in The Spanking Digest


LSF have selected one of my stories for publication in Issue 14 of The Spanking Digest. The Spanking Dress was among the first stories I wrote, and still a personal favourite. I was thrilled to hear that it is now available in a new format.

From the publisher:

Celebrating diversity in spanking fiction, this issue of The Spanking Digest features the following stories:

A Good Report Well Received by Clifford Dorset: Miss Tempest submits a late report to Professor Meiklejohn, a man who thrives on punctuality. Although he is pleased with the content, he feels his personal assistant must be held accountable for her tardiness. She submits to a strapping in his office. It is a routine they are both intimately familiar with.

The Spanking Dress by Kia Cera: Eliza buys an expensive yellow dress knowing her husband Ben will see it as an act of defiance, especially since they can’t really afford it. Her guilt is more than she can bear, and she soon confesses everything. Ben lets her keep the dress but requires she wear it for punishment spankings, as a symbol of both her shame and his forgiveness. Through the years the dress serves more than its original purpose for the loving couple.

Spoiled Brat by Fiona Blue: Diane is a spoilt brat who has always got everything she wanted. However she meets her match in student Ned who spanks her. She finds the experience exciting, but her attempt to get Austin at the gym to act similarly doesn’t quite work out as planned.

Girls Gone Wild by Bill Board: Kyrie, Lois and Erin take the opportunity to sneak off on holiday. They are less than honest about where they went or what they got up to whilst away. None of them recall the drunken antics which have been recorded on video, and when their boyfriends find out, the girls are in big trouble. There is a painful price to pay for their slutty behaviour.

Appointment Switch by Carly Burton: When receptionist Marylyn is unwell at work, she asks the cleaning lady to step in for her and cover the reception desk. This leads to a great deal of confusion and mixed up appointments. More than one young lady gets a sore bottom!

Speed Date by Sam Stewart: Cindy meets Dave at a speed dating event while she is working in England. He admits he wants to spank her, and she agrees at first, excited by the idea. But when the idea becomes a painful reality, she storms out and ends their relationship. However, Dave eventually uses his spanking ‘skills’ to keep Cindy and her two roommates in line.

The Tennis Coach by George Hanson: Mr Walsh is known as one of the best tennis coaches in the country, so Vicky counts herself lucky to have enrolled in his Academy. He seems to think she shows promise and that this is a reason for telling her to undress before he spanks her. After a bad performance, it is obviously not going to stop there…

Available from LSF Publications

Book of the Month: Uncle Richard’s Disciplinary Regime by Rachel White

Screenshot 2016-09-03 at 17.37.57

The “floundering young lady rescued by a well-meaning spanking mentor” archetype may be used in many spanking novels, but for good reason. This is one of my favourite types of stories, and of those Uncle Richard’s Disciplinary Regime by Rachel White is a shining example.  After a rocky start at University, Rachel accepts an offer from a friend to join her at Uncle Richard’s house for the weekend to see if his oversight and discipline might help her focus. Here,  she receives a lovely combination of spankings for both academic and domestic failings, and also meets the other girls under his guidance and care. Despite the pain and humiliation of the punishments Uncle Richard imposes, Rachel decides to join the household. She clearly enjoys the bond she has with her adopted uncle and sisters, and benefits from the discipline she receives from her uncle- and occasionally her sisters.

From the publisher:

A despondent Rachel confides in her friend Jenny, telling her about her poor grades. She knows why she has done badly: skipped classes, not enough preparation and studying, and an undisciplined approach to her studies. It turns out that Jenny used to be exactly the same … until she went to live with ‘Uncle’ Richard. Rachel learns that Uncle Richard is not a real uncle, merely a well meaning friend and mentor who provides structure and discipline to the lives of the four female students who share his house and live like sisters. Richard knows about everyone’s assignments and their due dates, and he helps the girls with their coursework, and enforces a study time after supper, along with a curfew and a strict bedtime. If the girls don’t do well in their assignments or if they misbehave, Uncle Richard doesn’t hesitate to administer a sound spanking with his hand or a wooden hairbrush.

When Julie leaves the house it isn’t long before Rachel moves in … and she soon gets her first spanking, which proves to be one of many! But although the arrangement with its rules and standards may appear unconventional, it yields results; not only does it ensure a loving and supportive home life for the girls, it also increases their confidence and provides them with the motivation to do well within their chosen careers.

Available from LSF Publications

Those Who Matter

I sent no Christmas cards last year.


I had thought this chore was part of growing up, of being an adult. I started my first year out of college, not quite enthusiastically, but dutifully.  I sent them to all the relatives in my parents’ database, people I knew of but did not really know. To that list, I added my friends from college, people I wanted to stay in touch with even when distance would make this difficult.


Only two replied. I received a lovely, tender note from a black-sheep uncle, only a few weeks before his death, and I received a wandering, long-winded letter from a wonderfully eccentric ex-aunt I’m still somewhat in touch with.  Outsiders keep together.


The rest of the family never responded, but I didn’t really expect them to. We had never really been part of each other’s lives. Nor did my friends answer, but I didn’t really expect them to. Their experience of Christmas was different from my own, the custom a foreign one in many cases. Besides, we were of a generation predisposed to email over handwriting.


Still, I  sent cards every year to the entire list. That’s what one does, right? Each year, I holed up at a quiet corner table in the pub (this being one of the tasks that is greatly assisted by a few pints), and jotted out glittering, handwritten greetings and platitudes.  There are worse ways to spend an evening, though the barman stuck dealing with the glittery remnants soon to be tracked everywhere by the December crowds may have disagreed.


This year, I did not. Instead I sent emails- not to family, but to spanky friends, friends who in some cases I’d not heard from in years, in other cases to people I’d never interacted with directly, but whose writing I’d admired quietly for years.


They all wrote back. Every. Single. One.


Thank you all. Thank you for your friendship, your support. Thank you for being there, even when we don’t hear from each other in ages.


Thank you for reminding me about where I should be spending my time, where I should be sharing my energy.