Sweet Spanking, part 2

Thanks to the kind people at BT I now have a working connection to the Web. It means I am back. I do really hate moving flat but now it is done and I can start getting back to normal.

I will publish here the second part of the story of the relationship between Isobel and Juliet. It is still called Sweet Spanking but it is not so much spankings in this part but there is some nudity so perhaps there is something of interest.

'Don't dress!' she said as I went into the bedroom.
'I want you to be naked,' she continued.
'Why?' I said.
'I just want it.' She smiled. 'I think you are pretty to look at, my dear.'
'I feel embarrassed.'
'I know,' she said, 'I know and I think that is good. I think it is good for you to be humbled a little.'

I went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. We always wanted more tea. It was a little odd to go about doing ordinary things while nude. It happened from time to time that I walked naked through the flat but this time it was different. It was ordered by Isobel and it meant something because of that.

My nudity wasn't just accidental, it was not just me walking from one room to the other not having dressed yet. No, I was ordered to be naked. It meant I had obeyed an order and it meant I was someone who obeyed orders.

It was Isobel, lovely Isobel, who had ordered me. I knew I could trust her, I loved her and she loved me. I was safe with her. Still it wasn't easy to give myself to her in this way.

When I came into the living room with the tea, Isobel was sitting in her armchair.
'Put the tea on the table, Juliet!'
I did as I was told. I liked when she told me what to do.
'Stand there!' she said and indicated a spot on the floor, in front of her chair.

I walked over to her and stood before her. I felt a little tense when I was beheld like that.
'You are a beauty, Juliet. I love your body.'
It was something terribly unequal in the whole situation. I didn't mind hearing her saying nice things about me and my body. I didn't believe her but it was still nice. But this was different. She was clad and I was naked and she looked at my body. I couldn't look at hers. She said something about my body while she was looking at me and in that moment we were not equals.

'Juliet, I want you to kneel before me,' she said.
I fell to my knees.
'Straighten your back! Sit upright.'
I did as I was told. I felt a strange combination of tension and a kind of joy of doing as I was told and, in that, pleasing Isobel.

'Juliet, I want you to do this as a kind of training, as a way for you to know that you are subject to discipline, my discipline.'
I felt a trembling in my body as I heard her talk of discipline. It was a sweet word on her lips and I was proud of being subject to her discipline. I felt proud of being hers.

'What do you feel when you kneel before me, naked, as you are now?'
'I feel,' I started, 'I feel, naked. I feel vulnerable.'
'Is that good or bad?'
'It could be bad. But with you it is good.'
She nodded at that and smiled.
'Do you feel anything else? Do you feel attractive?'
I immediately blushed.
'Yes,' I whispered, 'I feel attractive.'
'That is hard to admit, isn't it?'
'Yes, I don't think I am attractive.'
'But you are, sweet Juliet, you are.'
I shook my head.
'Sweetest, dearest, Juliet, you are the most beautiful girl I know. And I will make you understand that.'
I nodded.
'Juliet, do you feel sexy?'
'Mhm,' I mumbled.
'You are very sexy. And I wonder if that sense is just that you know you are sexy, sexy for me or if it means you are aroused too.'
I looked down.
'Are you aroused, if even just a little?' she continued.
'Yes, a little.'
'I will help you feel more sexy.'
I bit my lip.
'Arch your back, Juliet! Push your bosom out!'
I did as I was told. I felt awkward. The position was very provocative.
'You feel awkward?'
'Yes.'
'Don't bother with that! Do as you're told and the emotions will follow. What do you feel?'
'Embarrassed.'
'Embarrassed about what?'
'Like I am presenting my body, my bosom.'
'But you are presenting your lovely breasts to me. They are lovely, I want to touch them.'
I blushed.

She didn't touch me.
'Your body is the sweetest thing and when you push your breasts forward like that you look stunning. The sweet roundness of your lovely bosom, your nipples erect, all that is a joy to behold.'
I shuddered a little.
'Juliet, I want you to do another thing for me.'
'Yes.'
'I want you to spread your knees wide.'

I was suddenly overcome with embarrassment. It all felt silly and strange and I felt ugly.
'Do it now!'
I moved my knees apart.
'Juliet, that is nothing, wider.'
I opened my knees wider.
'Wider!'
I gasped as I moved my knees further apart.
'Much, much wider!'
I blushed with embarrassment as I felt how I opened myself, my sex to her.

She wasn't satisfied until I sat with my knees spread widely apart. I felt like someone in a porn shot. I was really open, my legs angled outwards.

'How do you feel?'
'Really, really embarrassed.'
'Good. Tell me more what you are thinking!'
'I am open, I am really exposed. I am ashamed. You must be able to see...'
'To see what?'
'My sex,' I blurted out.
'Yes, I can see your lovely sex. It is quite open to me.'
'I am ashamed.'
'I know you are but you don't have to. This position makes you feel open. Right? And especially when you are naked.'
I lowered my gaze.
'Tell me more, how does it make you feel?'
'It makes me feel open and vulnerable, accessible.'
'Accessible,' she said, 'tell me more.'
'Like you could touch me any time and as if I couldn't do anything about it.'
'How does that make you feel?'
'I feel powerless, as if my body didn't belong to me.'
'Who would it belong to if it didn't belong to you?'
'It would belong to you, Isobel.'
'Is that a good or bad thing?'
'It is,' I said, hesitated, started again, 'it is a good thing.'
'Does it make you feel as if you give your body to me, like you surrender it to me?'
'Yes.'
'Does it make you feel as if you submit to me?'
'Yes.'
'Do you want to submit it me?'
'Yes.'

We sat in silence. Isobel looked at me. I stole a glance at her but had to look down. I felt her to be all powerful at that moment.

'Juliet.'
'Yes.'
'You didn't like being caned, did you?'
'No, it hurt.'
'It was supposed to hurt.'
'I know.'
'Was it quite unbearable?'
'Yes, quite,' I said.
'That is good.'
Her words struck me in the face and I felt, suddenly, very upset.
'Did you feel it was fair?'
'That is not easy to answer,' I said.
'Try to explain, then.'
'In a way it was unfair, I couldn't do anything about being late. On the other hand, you are right, I wasn't in time. In way I didn't deserve it and in another I did.'
'I think I understand.'
She looked at me.

'Does it make you upset that I said it was good that it was unbearable?'
'Yes,' I said and nodded and lowered my gaze.
'Why were you upset?'
'Because it hurt so much and you think it is good.'
'I can't really explain it myself,' she said.
I was surprised.

'I have been thinking, Juliet,' she continued, 'you were dead scared of the cane, you knew I was going to hit you with it. You knew it was going to hurt and you wasn't even sure it was fair. Still you did it. Still you got the cane, you lay down on the armrest and took all the six strokes without a word of protest. I saw no resentment afterwards and no anger with me. It makes me immensely proud of you. You subject yourself to all that just because I tell you to and you don't even think it is quite fair.'
'It was what I wanted.'
'But you didn't want to be caned.'
'But you wanted to cane me.'
'So you let me.'
'Yes.'
'Was it what you wanted?'
'Yes.'
'To submit to my will?'
'Yes.'

Isobel looked at me.
'I am the luckiest woman in the world to have you, Juliet.'
'I am the luckiest woman in the world,' I said.

Sweet Spanking

I will not use my blog to whine about how horrible things are. I will just tell you that I have been moving flat and I hate it and our home is in chaos and it will take about a week to get broadband up and running. With some luck I will be able to blog and communicate next weekend again.

I am in two minds about the snippet of a story I post today. The idea was to paint a picture about a relationship that is really sweet and tender but still contain dominance and submission and some smacking of bottoms. My hesitation comes from the lack of drama if both parts are really happy about what happens. Stories without drama are generally boring. So think not of this as a story but a picture. There is more about this relationship but I will post it only if I think it works.

It was a blessing waking up with Isobel. I lay on my side of the bed and looked at her. She had propped herself up on her pillows and she was having her cup of tea. The morning light was bright and it made her dark hair shine.

She was beautiful, my Isobel. I lay there looking at her, my eyes caressed her face, her sweet nose, her sharp lips and her pointy chin. Her eyes looked dark from this angle but I knew they would be green and sparkling if she would turn them to me.

My eyes followed her shoulders, naked above the duvet. The rest of her body disappeared under the cover.

I reached out a hand underneath the fabric of her blanket and found her hip. I let my hand climb her and gently touch her belly. I felt a sudden urge to touch her breasts. I let my hand travel upwards and soon I felt the soft skin of her bosom.

I let my hand climb her lovely round breast and soon it made contact with her hard nipple.
'Good morning,' she said.
'Good morning, sweet Isobel.'
'So you are awake now,' she said.
'Have you been awake for long?'
'Yes, and I want my breakfast.'
'You will have to wait, I am not awake.'
'I can wake you up,' she said.
'Don't do that,' I sighed, 'and besides, you have got your tea.'
'The teasmade is too small. I have had your cup too.'
'That's ok.'

Isobel scrambled out of bed and I looked at her and smiled. I stole a glance at her naked body before she covered it in her nightgown. It was a very nice nightgown, silk and with dragons on.

We had breakfast in bed. Isobel had brought more tea and soon I was having my long longed for cup, propped up on my pillows. Isobel sat at my side, still dressed in her gown. She was having some toast with marmalade.

I was done with my first cup and reached for the toast when Isobel looked at me. I stopped and wondered what was in her mind. She smiled and reached out her hand and pulled down the duvet from my body.
'Don't cover up,' she said.
'I am naked,' I said.'
'I know.'

I had my toast and Isobel was picking crumbs from my breast.
'Juliet, what do you want to do today?'
'I don't know,' I said, 'what do you do on a Sunday? Being lazy?'
'You have nothing planned?'
'No, I haven't. Why?'
'I wanted to be with you, that's all.'
'I want to be with you, Isobel,' I said.

I was a little concerned with what she said, sensing that she had something in mind for the day.
'Isobel,' I continued, 'you are thinking of something.'
'Yes, I am,' she said, 'I was thinking of your discipline.'
'Oh,' I said.
I was a little surprised. I shouldn't have been really, this subject was seldom far from our minds. But somehow I had imagined her to plan something different.
'I was thinking that we could go through with your punishment today.'
I nodded.
'What do you think of that?'

I looked at her for a while. This was one of those moments when I really wanted to know what to say. So many thoughts tumbled around my head and I didn't really know what I was thinking.
'Isobel, I think you should decide that,' I said.
'Yes, but do you want it?'
'No, I don't want it.'
'Do you think that I should?'
'Please, Isobel, don't make me have an opinion about that!'

She knew I was right. She wasn't undecided. I knew her all too well for that. She was concerned about me and she couldn't hide it. She wanted to know my opinion. I didn't want to have one.
'Juliet,' she said, 'I have decided to give you your punishment today.'
I nodded.
'Can we do it soon?' I said.
'Are you worried about it?'
'Yes,' I said.

She looked at me.
'I can understand that.'
'Isobel, the cane really scares me.'
'I know, my love, I know. It will be alright.'
'But it will hurt.'
'Yes, my love, it will.'
She reached out her arms and I leaned my head against her shoulder.

'But it is what you want, Juliet.'
'I am still scared.'
'I know you are scared, dear, I know you are, but you will be alright.'

I had forgotten about the breakfast now. All I could think of was that dreaded cane.
'We can do it now, immediately, if you want?' she said.
'Now?'
'Yes, now, if you want to get it over with. Would you want that?'
'Yes, I think so.'
'Good.'

Isobel looked at me and I turned my face to her. She looked proud.
'Juliet, I want you to go to the loo and then you will go and get the cane. You know where it is. Then you wait for me in the living room.'
I nodded. I felt how my heart started beating hard.

'Don't dress, you can do that later!' she said as I slipped from the bed.

I needed to go to the loo but it wasn't easy to relax. I was glad it was to be done now so I didn't have to wait for it but I was still scared.

When I finally was done, I went to the cupboard and got the cane. It was hanging on a hook. It had a handle with a leather loop at the end. I took it from its hook and held it in my hand. It was a sturdy thing, lean and supple and quite thick.

I took it to the living room and put it on the small table. Isobel wanted to have her tools on that table. I thought I shouldn't sit down so I stood on the floor as I called for Isobel and told her I was ready.

Isobel came into the living room, looked at me and then walked over to the armchair and sat down. She was now wearing a dress with wide skirt. It was sleeveless but had a quite conservative high neck. It was white with a pretty patterns of brightly coloured flowers. It matched her auburn hair.

She looked at me and I felt ever so naked standing there. I had been naked in bed with Isobel, just some minutes ago, but standing there in the living room, with the nicely clad Isobel in an armchair looking at me was different.

'Juliet, I know you don't like the idea of being caned, but you know why it will happen, don't you?'
'Yes, I know.'
'Tell me why you are being caned!'
'It is a punishment.'
'Why are you being punished?'
'I was sloppy with times, the other day.'
'Yes, you were. I know, Juliet, that you couldn't help it. But that is besides the point. I had told you to be home at five and you were late. Isn't that so?'
'Yes, I was late.'
'I know how you fear the cane but it is appropriate as a punishment. I will not be too harsh with you. I will give you six.'

I really didn't know how harsh that was. I had never received the cane. I didn't know how much it hurt. I had seen it, held it in my hand and I imagined it to be merciless. I shivered.

'Will you please lie down over the armrest so we can begin?'
I nodded. This was it, now I would get to know the cane.

I turned to the sofa and leaned over it. I had done this before so I knew how to drape my body over the armrest. It was quite uncomfortable to lie on it but I had found that it was bearable if I leaned my arms on the sofa and stretched my legs so not all of my body weight came on my lower belly against the armrest.

'Juliet, I will not give you six whacks with the cane. Take your time and let me know when you are ready. Relax, you will be alright.'
'Isobel, I am scared.'
'Of course you are, my love.'

I took a deep breath and tried to relax. I couldn't but I felt I didn't want to wait any longer.
'I am ready.'
'Alright,' Isobel said, 'this will hurt.'

She placed the cane against my bottom and I felt my body tremble. This was it, now I was to know.

A strange surreal sensation flashed through my mind as she lifted the cane. I knew I was to be hit but I didn't want to think about it.

I heard a short swishing sound and then a sharp report as the cane hit my tender skin. My body tensed and I jumped. I was taken by surprise by the sudden and intense pain.

She had hit me quite high on my bottom and I felt as if a hot iron was pressed against my skin. I was panting and quite overwhelmed by the impact.

I jumped again as Isobel placed the cane against my skin. I knew she was preparing for the next whack.

As she hit me again I felt the pain surge through me. It seemed to explode in me and I was panting and my body was trembling.

'Isobel, it hurts, I am not sure...I don't know if I can take more.'
'Juliet, there are four more to come, take a deep breath!'

I calmed down and I took a deep breath but I felt the panic rise as she placed the cane, once more across my buttocks.

The third blow hit me low, on the sweet spot. I jumped and then squirmed. I heard myself whimper. The pain was different this time. It was less pronounced but seemed to affect me deeper. It seemed to move something within me. The hit on that part of my buttocks seemed to touch my soul and I felt a certain warmth in my body.

I couldn't believe this. My body reacted to the caning. The pain stirred up something within me that I didn't expect. I had felt it before but it had always been in other contexts. This time I thought only of pain and agony, so I didn't expect it.

I always felt a thrill when I bowed my will to Isobel's. I knew that and had been ashamed of it. But when I had admitted it, I had found the power in it. It was the arousal of submitting to someone you love. There was something of that I felt now.

The fourth blow hit higher and I jumped. I felt tears in my eyes as I felt my heart beat faster. It was soon to be over.

'Juliet, brace yourself. I will give you one on your thighs now.'
I whimpered as I felt the cane on my thighs, just below my buttocks.

She hit me a tad lower and I had to cry out from the unexpected and searing pain. The thighs were worse than the bottom. Or at least different.

Only one to go. I was trembling.

The last whack hit me on my sweet spot again and I lay panting as she was done. I felt a tremendous relief because it was over, for this time at least.

Taking a caning was hard. It was hard to submit to Isobel when she punished me but giving myself to her when it was over, was easy.

In a way it was a struggle to let her punish me, but on the other hand letting her do it helped me accept her authority.

I didn't like the caning. I feared it. I didn't want Isobel to whip me but I wanted her to have that right. And letting her have that right meant that she would use it from time to time. I wanted that.

'You may rise.'
I scrambled to my feet. Isobel held out her arms and I hugged her. I whimpered still as she held me in her arms.
'You did well, Juliet, you were very brave. You took your punishment and all is forgotten.'

I replaced the horrible cane and we both went to the bathroom. I was terrified to see the welts on my bottom. They were red and seemed swollen and looked horrible. Isobel put some lotion on them and when I moaned at the touch she looked a little taken aback.

We laughed at the sight of my bottom and the tension vanished. I had tears in my eyes but now I was smiling. Isobel smiled and she hugged me again as I cried.

I felt a warmth in my body and being held by Isobel was a blessing. I felt a kind of elation and joy filling me. This always surprised me. I imagined I would resent the one disciplining me but instead I loved her.
'I love you, Isobel.'
'I love you too, my Juliet, very much.'

Scenes and Settings, part 2

Before I go into that I will have to tell you that I am moving flat and since moving a landline with associated broadband connection is something immensely complicated in UK I will be cut off from the Web for some time. How long I don't know.

Anyway, this is part 2 and part 1 was the post before this; Back to Basics. Anyway, I am going to be a little predictable and tell you about another favourite setting for fantasies and naughty thoughts. The one I am going to talk about is the slave market.

I know, you have all been there, either as onlookers, buyers or merchandise. My slave market is almost always set in a very hot country, vaguely Middle Eastern. There is a desert and a town with a bazaar and all that.

To this town I arrive in the company of some man (or men) in a burnous. All the details are not set but I may be wearing something similar or perhaps just a cloak swept around me. I walk on bare feet. That is one of those things that work in fantasies but is not so nice in the real world. Sand can be very hot. I have an iron collar around my neck. Of course, I am the merchandise.

It is a chilly morning but I know it will be a hot day. If you have ever been to a Mediterranean country you know what I am talking about. There is a certain smell in the air. You know it is going to be immensely hot but it is still a bit cold.

We are early and the square where the market is being held is almost empty. Not only slaves are sold here. Some early risers set up shop, some spread their wares on rugs on the ground while others have tables. The man and I are walking towards the part where slaves are displayed. Along one side of the square a set of sturdy poles are set in the ground. There you can bind your slave and display her to prospective buyers.

When we arrive I have to take the cloak off and, of course, I am naked underneath it. I shiver in the chilly morning but the man takes no notice. He doesn't have to tie me to the pole. Instead I have to stand beside it and display myself for the buyers.

The day becomes hotter and the square fills up with people. The market is underway. There is a lot of posing and having to stand in certain ways and even kneeling. And some of the buyers want to examine the merchandise. There is prodding and groping and squeezing and touching. Some of them can be quite intimate in their examinations.

There is a certain shame in that, being touched and groped by strangers who don't even have to buy you. I am only a naked slave and can do nothing but display myself.

Eventually someone comes along and buys me. But that is, really, another fantasy.

Then there is the classical slave auction. Here I find myself standing on a dais or similar and there is a many headed crowd of people in front of me, looking at me, bidding for me, or just looking. They are safe in the crowd, clad and free and can enjoy the spectacle. I am not. I am naked and exposed and seen by everyone.

But there is a certain pride in this, strangely enough. Of course I am very beautiful and of course the bids are high. I will sell for a high price. Not that it benefits me but I have the pride of being valuable.

This is part of the sense of being a slave and being sold, that you are not going to gain anything from it. Someone has taken you and will get the money. This is very unfair but such is life for a poor slave.

Back to Basics

That is what I want with this blog, to return to what it is about. This blog is about fantasies and mostly about my fantasies. I like it to be a meeting place for people with minds full of exciting fantasies but I started it and I will write about my fantasies. There is no contradiction in this.

I was thinking about my fantasies and especially settings. I am a little inspired by a blog entry at Wystan's blog, where he wrote about his favourite settings.

I too have favourite settings although they are not as important to me as they once were. I thought that I would just mention some of them and how they fit in, in the overall chaos of my fantasy life.

There seems always to be a mansion, a manor house or something of the kind. This is a place for well mannered and self indulgent older men with a rich social life. I often enter these scenes as a woman, considerably younger than this man, who sees him as someone worthy of bowing too. I am not always sure how I ended up in his house but I am always in awe of his power.

The action in those scenes often takes place in the library. I do love libraries. There is elegance and style in the setting and this room is always a lovely room. There are velvet hangings and dark colours overall. There is always a nice Persian rug and a fireplace with a nice fire burning.

In this setting the lord of the manor decides to show off his power over me and this always means kneeling, baring the body and some serious whipping with a horsewhip or something similar. This is not the place for a cosy smacking of bottom in the lap of an understanding and loving man. No this is the place for some rather harsh treatment.

There is always a kind of ritual that includes undressing in stages, preparing the scene and the fetching of instrument used for whipping. It is all formal, all held back and there is often an audience, elegantly dressed and fascinated but polite.

All what happens within you, when you go through this ritual, is hidden or almost hidden. There is the baring of the body, allowing the onlookers to see all your reactions. The slightest movement in the body is there to be seen.

There is a certain cruelty present, in that your Master, the lord of the manor, explains why and how you are going to be punished and that he is very clear about how to maximise your suffering, talking about how the baring of your body is to make you feel humiliated and make the whip bite harder. He may even whip a cushion in front of your eyes to make you think about how it will be when your naked skin is the target.

There is no calling names, no 'young lady, you have been naughty' or that sort of thing. No it is all very calm and collected and although you have to strip naked and kneel to be whipped there is a certain kind of dignity to it.

There is the dreaded arousal, of course, the one you don't want, the one you don't need. And since you are naked it will all show. They will know. They will not comment but they will know.

Afterwards no one abuses you but they are all very happy having witnessed your whipping and they want to look at your body and are quite pleased to see the marks. They may congratulate your Master for a well performed whipping. There is no hostility towards you but there is neither any sympathy.

Oh, I get carried away. Maybe I will do this into a series of entries.

There is another location at the manor that is of interest. It is the stable. Your lord and master may have ordered you to go to the rough men in the stable to receive a punishment.

You do feel very small and very humiliated having to endure such a disgrace. Those men are rough and only too eager to humiliate you. They know exactly what to do and there are no rituals here. No, you have to strip off at their command and hurry with it. You may be tied to pillar or maybe lean over some bales or crates. And the whipping will be severe.

They will not spare you. They are brutes and they know how to use a whip. These men may take the opportunity to fondle you and grope you a little so you have to endure their rough hands on your exposed body. They won't have you, the Master won't allow it but they may touch and they may talk about you.

This is just a start. There are more scenes. This is the problem with me, I get carried away.

Kate Bush

And now for something completely different. I just felt for putting up a post about an amazing artist and a great song.

She made her debut in 1978 and in many ways she belongs to another era. She is a fabulous singer and her music is beautiful and quirky to say the least. But I wouldn't be me if I just wrote about her music. No I am fascinated by her appearance, the impression she makes.

It is something about Kate Bush that is both old fashioned and very modern. In an age of arse-kicking heroines and singers who seem to hate you she is something else. She is sweet – sweet and timeless. She seems to represent a side that is thoughtful, shy and delightful rather than in your face, a kind of femininity that is not very popular these days.

But she is also quirky and has a lot of confidence. She is a modern woman, she was the first female artist to top the UK charts with a self written song (Wuthering Heights). She performs her strange dances and moves that it is so easy to mock but she doesn't give a damn. She is herself and that makes her stand out.

She isn't ashamed of being sentimental and sweet, sad or happy. She seems very vulnerable at times but I don't think she is. She is just herself and she has the confidence to be herself.

And she has written one of the greatest songs of all time. I am talking about Wuthering Heights, of course, inspired by the book by Ellis Bell.

It is a fantastic song and it almost always brings tears to my eyes. When I think of it, I don't know if I have heard anything like it. It is quite unique. There is this wonderful love story behind it but the song works on its own. I sense passion beyond the ordinary and perhaps this contributes to the impression of Kate Bush as timeless.

So, enough of this rambling now. I will return soon with something to read. In the meanwhile, go and listen to Kate Bush!

Remote control

I am taking a course in Creative Writing at Open University. One of the things we are told to practice is freewriting. You can do it in different ways but the basic idea is to take a word or a phrase and set aside ten minutes or so and then write freely about that.

I did this just now. I saw a remote control lying beside me so I decided to write about that. This is what came out. It took me some eleven minutes to write this and I have changed very little in it.

And I won't show my fellow students this freewrite. I am a bit too embarrassed to do that.

He equipped me with the device this morning. He was quite insistent. I was embarrassed. I usually am when he gets his ideas.

He put it on me himself. I must admit that I didn't mind the touch although the device was rather cold. It slipped in without problems though. His hands were hot and I wanted them to stay.

He even pulled my knickers up and then he said goodbye. He kept the remote control. He explained to me that it was controlled through the mobile phone net or something. This meant he could control it from wherever he was. No need to be close by.

I don't know if that was to reassure me or scare me.

I looked quite smart as I went to work. It was a tad awkward with the device but it wasn't too big or too uncomfortable. It was just a dead thing, nothing more.

At my desk, at 9.17 he gave a buzz and I jumped. He phoned and asked if it worked. I could assure him, it did. He asked me when my big meeting was. I was reluctant to tell him but he insisted.

Ten minutes before the meeting there was a new buzz and I told myself that I couldn't jump like that during the meeting. That would look strange.

He kept quiet the first twenty minutes, making me relax. He is an evil man. Then when I almost had forgotten it started again. I drew my breath and one or two colleagues looked at me but I pretended to cough.

Then he kept it active. That was not as startling but it was quite hard to endure. It made my mind wander from statistics and pie charts.

I don't know if it was the environment, the anxiety or the fear of being affected that made it so hard to resist. I am glad I resisted. I so wonder what my colleagues would say if I hadn't.