Six of the Best of Films

Another of those lists...sigh,

1 Northanger Abbey (2007, Jon Jones)

This is the film with Felicity Jones as Catherine Morland and JJ Feild as Henry Tilney. Catherine Morland is one of my favourite Austen heroines, the one I identify with the most. Alright, I am not as naïve and not as silly (I hope) as Catherine but there is something about her life with her head in the clouds and innocence and stupidity that I like. Felicity Jones is adorable in the role and captures her personality very well. Her acting is in a way very minimalistic and captures Catherine well as much with facial expressions as with spoken words. A silly film but very good.

Link to article in IMDB

2 Brazil (1985, Terry Gilliam)

This is a really absurd and wonderful film. It is rather grim in many ways, showing a very authoritarian society. Terry Gilliam wanted to call it 1984½. It is made as a dystopic vision of the future but as it was imagined during the 40s or 50s. Despite the fact that the state crushes the hero it is a rather enjoyable film with a lot of humour and surreal elements. Jonathan Pryce is brilliant as Sam Lowry, the hero of the story.

Link to article in IMDB

3 Star Wars (1977, George Lucas)

This is one of the best films ever made. A fairy tale about the boy who reluctantly has to go on a journey to fight the giants and save the kingdom. It has everything, a good story, beautiful heroes and heroines, vile villains, rocket ships and ray guns...not to mention droids. What more can you ask for? Not the most romantic story though but perhaps there was no room for that. I don't think any of the other five instalments of this saga measures up to this first one. I can't stand the silly teddy bears in part 3 (or is that really part 6?), for example.

Link to article in IMDB

4 Brief Encounter (1945, David Lean)

This is an example of what you can do when you have a great script. It is based on Noel Coward's play Still Life. A woman lives in good marriage with a good man and when she travels to a nearby town to do the weekly shopping she meets this man, a doctor, on the station. This meeting develops into a kind of love story although nothing really happens between them. He goes to Africa and she goes home and things return to what they were before. It is immensely beautiful and immensely sad but still very, very ordinary. I wish I could have written something like that...sigh.

Link to article in IMDB

5 Persuasion (1995, Roger Michell/2007 Adrian Shergold)

Yes, this is two for one. I couldn't decide between these two brilliant adaptations of the Jane Austen novel (yes, another one). The older one has Amanda Root and Ciéran Hinds as Anne Elliot and Captain Wenthworth and the newer one Sally Hawkins and Rupert Penry-Jones. Anne is, for the age and time, an old unmarried woman, at 27 years of age, when the man she loved when she was nineteen and was persuaded to give up, returns. Love conquers everything and Anne gets her Frederick Wenthworth in the end. Bitterness and pride has to be overcome but Anne is strong and Frederick stands firm. Both these films are beautiful and very romantic but not in the sugar coated easy way you so often get.

Link to article in IMDB

Link to article in IMDB

6 Frankenstein (1931, James Whale)

Yes, this is an oldy, the classical adaptation of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein; or, the Modern Prometheus. The monster is played by William Henry Pratt aka Boris Karloff. It has to be said that the film is only loosely based on the book but it is still very enjoyable. The settings are wonderful. It is so easy to dismiss an old film like that, being spoiled with the special effects of modern cinema. To watch this film you have to enter into the spirit of it and accept it for what it is. But when you do that, it is a great adventure.

Link to article in IMDB

Surrender, part 10

Alright, no fuss. Just the next instalment of this story.

I knew I had to talk to someone. I was going to meet my friend Sarah on the Sunday and I knew, in my heart I knew, that I had to talk to her. We talked about everything. She had told me about her strange boyfriends and I had confessed my crushes to her. She was the one who knew how miserable I had been when the last relationship had ended. She was the one who knew who I was. I had to talk to her.

Sunday came and we met up at a café. We chatted and talked and she told me her latest adventures. We went shopping and had lunch, went walking in the park. I couldn't talk to her. I was terrified, embarrassed and dumbstruck.

The afternoon drew to a close and I knew I had to talk to her. When I realised she was about to call it a day and go home I managed to ask her to come with me to the pub. She didn't hesitate.

We sat down with our wines and I knew that this was the moment.

'I need to talk to you,' I finally said.

'I know.' She smiled at me.

Sarah knew me, she saw through me and although this made me embarrassed it was a relief, at the same time.

'You know this man, the one I have been going out with.'

'Yes, I know, the handsome one.'

'Sarah!'

She just giggled.

'Well, what about him?' she asked.

'I think I'm in love.'

'Did you fret about telling me that? As if I didn't know.'

'He's kind of weird.'

'What man isn't? I once went out with an angler.'

'Sarah! He is not like that.'

'What is he like, then?'

'He is very...dominant.'

'Good! Good for you.'

'You don't understand.'

'Always-in-control-you can't cope with someone else being in control?'

'No, it's not that.'

'I think it is good for you, isn't that what you want?'

'Sarah, don't be daft!'

'What is it then?'

'He really wants to be in control, I mean, really be in command.'

'Sounds great, I like that.'

'You don't understand.'

'Don't I? then tell me!'

'He wants me to do things.'

'Things?'

'Yeah.'

'Like what?'

'Promise you won't start screaming!'

'I won't.'

Sarah looked really excited now.

'I am not wearing any knickers.'

'What?'

'You heard me.'

'Did he make you do that?'

'Yes.'

'Wow.'

I stared at her in disbelief.

'Do you feel sexy?' Sarah said.

'Sarah!'

'Do you?'

'Well, yeah, sort of.'

'Sort of?'

'Yes, I do. But that's not all.'

'I want to hear the rest too.'

'Sarah, I think I am losing it.'

'Losing what?'

'It, me, my sanity.'

'What did he made you do?'

'I can't tell you.'

'Of course you can, you silly cow.'

'Sarah, you will think I am mad.'

'I already know you are mad.'

'Don't joke about it!'

'Believe me, I'm not joking.'

'One day, Sarah, one day when I didn't want to be without knickers at school.'

'Wow, you've been knickerless at uni?'

'Yeah.'

'Well, what happened, you put your knickers on?'

'Yes, I did and he was, kind of, disappointed.'

'Was he angry, for real?'

'Yeah, but disappointed mostly.'

'This is real for him.'

'It was real for me too.'

'Yes, of course. What happened?'

'He punished me.'

'Wow.'

'Yeah.'

'How?'

'You won't believe this, he spanked me.'

'Now I am getting really excited.'

'It wasn't like that.'

'Like what?'

'I mean, it wasn't a little hanky panky. It was for real, it hurt.'

'It was about time.'

'Sarah! What do you mean?'

'I think it was about time someone gave Miss Prim a spanking.'

'What do you mean by that?'

'Ah, you know, to shake you up a little.'

'It surely did.'

'What did you do?'

'I told him he couldn't do that.'

'Pity.'

'Sarah?'

'I wouldn't mind a man who kept me in line.'

'It's all a joke for you.'

'Believe me, it isn't.'

'I don't understand.'

'Don't try to. Tell me what happened!'

'He told me he wanted a woman at his feet and if I went now I shouldn't bother coming back.'

'Did you go?'

'Yes.'

'And then what?'

'I went back.'

'Good.'

'Is it?'

'Yeah, you love the guy, don't you?'

'I guess I do.'

'Don't guess.'

'But this is even worse.'

'Tell me.'

'I begged him to take me back.'

'That is new.'

'What do you mean?'

'You are not exactly the begging kind of person.'

'No, guess not.'

'Did he take you back?'

'Yes, he did. This is the really bad part. He said I had to be punished.'

'For walking out on him.'

'Yes, and not obeying him.'

'Did he?'

'Did what?'

'Punish you.'

'Yes, he started to, this Thursday.'

'What happened.'

'Sarah, you won't believe this. He caned me.'

'Oh my god. Really?'

'Yeah.'

'He means business.'

'Sarah, it was awful. I could hardly sit down all Friday and I had my meetings and I can still feel it.'

'Does it still show?'

'Yes, it does.'

'Can I see?'

'Are you mad?'

'Not here, somewhere else.'

'Sarah!'

'Ok, some other time.'

'And I have all these rules.'

'Like what?'

'No knickers and my skirt can't be too long and that sort of thing.'

'That sort of thing?'

'Yeah, and I am supposed to be naked in my flat.'

'I like that.'

'Like what?'

'The thought of you being naked in your flat, obeying this handsome man.'

'And I can't touch myself.'

'Oh, that is cruel.'

'I can't stand it.'

'I would have been worried if you could.'

'It is so easy for you, Sarah.'

'And you make such a fuss of things.'

'Am I not going mad?'

'No, I don't think you are.'

'But what is happening.'

'You've met a man who is into kink and you are indulging him.'

'Indulging him?'

'Yeah, stupid, he loves every moment of it. He loves whacking your bottom. Some men love that.'

'You make it sound so easy.'

'It is easy.'

'It's making things to my head.'

Suddenly Sarah looked serious. She took my hand.

'I know why it is making things to your head.'

'What do you mean?'

'Because you can't accept that you like it.'

'I don't like it. I love him but I don't like it.'

'Yes, you do.'

'No, it was awful, it really, really hurt and I feel ashamed.'

'Yet you do it.'

'Yes, I love him.'

'He makes you feel awful and you love him?'

'Yeah.'

'I love you, my friend, but sometimes you don't see what's in front of your nose.'

'What's in front of my nose?'

'A man who can give you something you want.'

'What do I want?'

'Someone to rule you.'

'No, I don't.'

'Loads of women are like that.'

'Not me.'

'And loads of men are like him.'

'Kinky?'

'Yeah, he seems to be of the harsher kind, though, guess it makes it more real then.'

'You mean like he is one of those into fetish things and all that?'

'I don't know but I wouldn't be surprised. He owns a cane after all.'

'I am not mad then?'

'No, don't worry. Take your time and find out what you want.'

'I have more punishments coming up.'

'You did walk out on him.'

'So you think he is doing the right thing?'

'If you accept it, yeah.'

'I don't accept it.'

'Did he force you?'

'No, he didn't.'

'You stayed by your own will, you let him cane you.'

'Yeah.'

'There you go.'

'But it hurt and I am scared.'

'That is only human.'

'So you think I should go through with it?'

'It's your decision, only you can know what to do.'

'I don't know what to do, that is why I had to talk to you.'

'Did it help?'

'I feel less insane now.'

'That is good.'

I was bewildered as I walked home. I was surprised that Sarah found all of this so acceptable, almost normal. I hadn't thought of him as just indulging in some kink, living out a fetish dream. It seemed so sordid in a way. Suddenly I imagined him dressed in some strange leather outfit with a whip in his hand and it all made me laugh. It was so silly and so strange and so dirty.

My bottom had improved all weekend and on the Monday it still had some marks but it wasn't as sore any longer. I stood looking at myself in the mirror wondering about the marks he had left on my body, how bold he was, how outrageously arrogant he was to whip me and leave his marks on my body.

I felt my cheeks blush and my heart beat faster as I both hated him for it and admired him.

Naughty Thoughts Tumbling in My Head

This blog contains a lot of stories but I started it as a blog about fantasies, where I could talk about them, describe them and reflect on them. I have done that a little and I will return to it.

If there is one thing I am good at, it is to get ideas. I have more ideas to stories and events and relationships than I have time to write them down and work with. Not all of them naughty of course but a good many of them are. So here is a scene, half a fantasy, half an idea, something that I could use in a story, perhaps, a little surreal but I don't mind that.

There is a bar in a club or something similar, a place where young people go to meet, dance, connect and be naughty in. At the bar there are a man and woman. They are around twenty, that age when you can be miserable but if you are confident you can see the world open up before you.

He is an ordinary guy, young handsome, dressed in trousers and shirt untucked, covering in the uniform of young men. He is a little cocky, confident in himself.

The woman is blond, ponytail, dressed in jeans and spaghetti strap top. She is like most young women, aware of herself, her body, and she is confident enough to know she is attractive but she doesn't feel the need to dress up and show off.

They sit at the bar with their drinks and they look at each other, he stares and she smiles. They connect in that way that sometimes happen, two people find they have a common goal or something like that.

There is a context to this scene. This man is discovering a very naughty side of himself and is doing bold and daring things and has got a reputation for putting his hand down girls' knickers and even worse.

The girl knows this. She has a naughty side too although it may be expressed in different ways.

Anyway, what happens is that they strike up a conversation and during that she asks him what he is thinking. He is daring enough to tell her that he is thinking that he would want to spank her bottom. Her response is something like 'I thought you'd never ask'.

But instead of developing this into a spanking story, I imagine her alluding to his reputation for pulling down knickers and that sort of thing and he says something about it being hard when someone is wearing jeans.

Then she asks if it won't be easier if she was standing and then she stands up and approaches him. He can't back down now, can he? So he reaches out his hands and unbuttons her jeans. She doesn't protest.

He continues and yanks her jeans and her knickers down. Some people in the bar starts staring at them but no one interferes. Maybe it is like when you are a little tipsy and see something but not really believe what you see.

When he has pulled her jeans and knickers down a bit he puts his hands between her legs and lets a finger slip into her. She doesn't protest but lets it happen, in view of everyone around.

Then he asks her if she wants to dance with him.

I am interested in both parties. They are two fascinating characters. He is a man who is discovering his power, his fascination for spanking and taking control of girls. In this parallel world all girls he meet are happy for him to be in command and they all long to be spanked...of course.

The girl, of course, she has this longing for submitting to another person, she is daring enough to accept it being done in public, being humiliated in public. She is confident to not back down and be ashamed of her desires.

Right, this is just a sketch.

Surrender, part 9

I am a little lazy, I know. I will follow one part of the Surrender story immediately with another but maybe you will forgive me, there is some action in this part.

Then he struck.

The sound was terrible, sharp and unforgiving. The pain exploded in me. I think I held my breath, clung to the chair, struggled with my sanity, trying to accept what was happening. It hurt so much, more than I could imagine.

He waited for me to compose myself. I shook my head in disbelief. I was overwhelmed with the pain, the humiliation and the power of him. I knew, deep down, inside me, that I had a choice. I could rise from the chair and just walk away. That would end it there and then. He wouldn't stop me.

I trembled as I stuck my bottom out again, to receive the next stroke. I had made my choice and there was no going back.

He hit me again and I regretted offering my bottom for the cane. I had never ever in my life felt something this painful. I didn't cry, I didn't scream but I held my breath. I had to use all my willpower to compose myself.

When I stuck my bottom out for the next whack I knew what I was doing. I knew how much it would hurt, how mad I was to do it, to accept it. It was now a matter for my will to endure.

My determination to take the punishment, his punishment was stronger. I stayed in place. I had to let go of everything else and only concentrate on the next blow of the cane. That was all that existed, the cane that relentlessly whacked my bottom and the searing pain. That and my will to survive, to go through with it.

He gave me blow after blow. He let me compose myself before the next one fell, before the next one exploded in my body. It broke me down. I endured but I struggled and there came a point when I thought I would lose that battle.

He pushed me further, he continued whipping me and suddenly I broke down, tears filled my eyes and I cried out. I felt I couldn't take one more of his terrible whacks.

'Please, please, I can't take it, please.' My voice was weak, pleading, no pride was left.

His voice was strangely soft as he talked to me.

'We are not done yet, some more to go, for now.'

He gave me two more and then I pleaded with him again, overcome with agony, feeling I couldn't stand one single blow more.

'Brace yourself, here comes the next,' he said, almost with pity in his voice.

He gave me some more whacks but he prepared me for each of them by talking to me. I clung to his voice. I let him pick me up so I could take the next one.

I was grateful for his encouragement. My tears were streaming and I shivered as I knelt and stuck my bottom out.

'Now, there are eight more to come.'

Instead of being scared or hateful I was happy, I could, now, see the end of my ordeal.

He gave me the eight in silence and I counted them in my head, almost longing for the next so it would all be over.

He told me to stand and I climbed down from the chair and stood on trembling legs. I felt like a long distance runner after the final spurt, I was sweaty and my body was aching, my bottom felt numb, warm and numb.

'You did well,' he said and looked sternly at me.

I looked at him through my tear filled eyes. I didn't know what I was thinking of him then but he was different, in my mind he was different, well known, like someone I had always known but also a stranger, a terrifying avenging angel, someone from another world. I stood in awe.

He took a step forward and put his arms around me. I clung to him, I leaned my head against his breasts and I started to cry. I cried with abandon at his chest while I was held by him, my naked body pressed against him. I felt his clothes against my skin and I felt how different we were; him clothed, me naked, and how unequal and unfair it was, but at that moment I felt a blessing, as if there was a big grace in this.

Was it for this I had endured all this? Was this the reward for the caning, the humiliation and the agony? I felt him close to me and I felt blessed and it seemed as being held by him was something that was worth all the rest, that it was for this I had returned.

When I had calmed down, he held me with his arms, looked me in the eyes. I looked up at him.

'This will do for now, you did well, you were brave.'

Two emotions hit me with equal power. I was immensely proud hearing his words. I felt as if I was a child again and had been told I had done something scary and how good and brave I was and I felt happy as only a child can be. At the same time I heard that it meant that this was not the end of my punishment. There was more to come and this filled me with dread.

'Go home now, this has been a lot for you.'

I nodded.

'I will tell you when to come back. The same rules apply, about clothes and not touching yourself.'

When he told me not to touch myself I realised that he hadn't touched me in that way for ages, not the whole evening, not even a kiss. I felt how my body ached, how terribly, painfully aroused I was.

He watched me as I put my clothes back on. In a way I was glad I didn't have to put any knickers on, sensing that my bottom was too sore for that.

He didn't say anything as I dressed and when I was done I looked at him. He looked at me.

'Goodbye, thank you for taking me back.'

'You did well, I am proud of you.'

I smiled as I left. I smiled as I walked home. I was in agony and my head was in turmoil but there played on my lips a faint smile. I was proud of myself.

When I came home I stripped off and felt a new significance in my nudity. He had ordered it and I did it for him and now it was not just a humiliation, it was also a blessing.

I was exhausted and went straight to bed after taking a shower. I fell asleep immediately, lying on my side, not allowing anything to touch my bottom.

It was different in the morning when I turned and woke up with a throbbing pain in my bottom. It felt like an open wound and in the cold morning light my state of mind seemed like utter madness.

I got out of bed and looked at my bottom in the mirror. It was in a sorry state. There were raised welts criss crossing my buttocks and my whole bottom was red and blue in places. It was not a pretty sight.

I wouldn't be able to sit on it for some time. I had my breakfast standing and wondered what was going on with me. Was I being brainwashed? How could I let a man get so much power over me? How could I let someone whip me?

I was ashamed, felt stupid and silly. I felt as if I was losing myself in all this and that I needed a reality check, talk to someone to see how true this was for me, if it would just vanish like some demon of the night.

But who could I talk to? Most people would turn him in to the police and even my closest friends would question my sanity. And in addition I was so ashamed that I couldn't stand the embarrassment.

Still I knew I had to talk to someone.

Work was agony. I had some meetings and sitting down was a nightmare. I was fidgeting and moving about all the time and had to compose myself and concentrate to be able to keep still. I wasn't very useful at the meeting.

One thing happened some time into one of the meetings. As I sat there struggling with my sore bottom I thought about the day before and at first I blushed with shame and embarrassment but there was also something else. I thought about my aching behind and how he had made it like that, how he had wanted it to be like this. He knew what he was doing. He knew today would be hard for me.

The strange thing was that instead of cursing him for his cruelty I felt a sparkle of joy in my heart, sensing his presence in the soreness, as if he was present, with me there in the meeting.

I felt a new kind of courage to endure the pain. I felt as if I should not try to avoid it. Instead I should endure and let it be. I relaxed, calmed down. The pain was still there but it had a purpose, it made me belong to him.

When I had dressed that morning I had chosen between two acceptable skirts. The one I had been wearing the night before and another one. Both were black and proper and suitable for my work but the second one was some inches shorter. Remembering his words about my clothes I took the second one.

Wearing a skirt without knickers made me feel naked and the shorter the skirt the more exposed I felt. Those few inches made me feel quite naked. It was still a very proper skirt and nothing would show even if I tried to pick something up from the floor but I was still fully aware of how naked I was underneath it.

However embarrassing it was, being with no knickers there was another sensation I couldn't deny. All kinds of nudity had double meanings for me. Mostly I was embarrassed, feeling exposed. I had always been like that. But there was also another sensation, something that was more private. Being exposed made me feel aroused too, being watched made it even clearer to me. Those sensations always went hand in hand, I was both embarrassed and aroused.

I wasn't terribly aroused, not mad with desire, that wouldn't have been me. It was more like a little tingling in me, a kind of thrill I got from undressing. I had felt it as a kid, although I hadn't connected it to anything sexual then, not knowing what sex was.

When I grew older and more aware of my body and the sexual tension between girls and boys, being naked or undressing became a source of both terrible embarrassment and a kind of private and very secret joy. At the beach, dressed in bikini I felt how I blushed if I thought someone was looking at me. The very thought of them seeing my body made me cringe with embarrassment but also feel that tingling in my body.

Going to my college with no knickers under my skirt brought those feelings back to me. I felt like a kid, doing something naughty and forbidden and I was genuinely embarrassed but there was also that sense of silent arousal.

The fact that I had not been allowed to touch myself for a long time made that sense of arousal to an agonising sensation. I felt how I desired to touch myself, to give me relief but I knew it was part of my punishment and however silly I felt, I wasn't prepared to disobey him.

I survived that day and I went home, stripped off and had my dinner standing in the kitchen. I was wondering about myself. A part of me shouted in my ear that I was going mad, I was accepting something that no woman should put up with, abuse and violence. But at the same time I was there, standing naked, following his orders meticulously.

Surrender, part 8

I am a very self critical person. I am also very selfish. I write because I enjoy it, I write because I need it. I blog because it has become a way for me to express myself and not be totally alone. I do it for me. I am utterly and completely selfish.

Having a blog that others read and being self critical is not easy. If I think that I could only blog what is good I would edit and edit and edit again and nothing would be published. I have to stick to the idea that I blog because I want to share what I have in my head.

To have readers means the world to me. It means that we share, at least you share my thoughts and you get the chance to share yours. Still I write for me, for my own very selfish reasons. Sharing is the reward, the blessing that comes with it.

I am saying this because I got a comment yesterday that infuriated me. An anonymous person wrote something that made me understand that they didn't like my blogpost. That is not the issue. No one has to like what I write. But what made me angry was a remark they made: '...as though it's supposed to hold my interest'. This person didn't just tell me they thought my writing was bad in a quite rude way but they also implied that I was writing to satisfy them and thus had failed.

My stories are like my children. They are mine and they mean everything to me. But you don't have to like them. It hurts when someone says they are 'sleepy' but I am prepared for that. I take the risk and I welcome critique. It is I, after all, who put them out in the public domain so I am not expecting any mercy.

But I will defend them with everything I have got if anyone says they are failures. How can they be failures when success and failure are not issues on this blog? They are my stories and scribblings and they are what they are. They are not attempts to evoke this or that sensation in the reader. They are my thoughts.

Now to the story. I suppose some of you will be angry with me for cutting it where I did but I think smaller chunks are better. I will continue, soon.

'Do you know what I want?' he said.

'You want me to obey.'

'Yes, that is true.'

'You want a woman at your feet.'

'I want you at my feet.'

It seemed as if my heart beat an extra beat at his words. He wanted me back, he wanted me at his feet. I felt like two people sitting there, one was calm and collected, listening to the conversation, saying things, participating in a game that seemed both strange and absurd, the other was different, she was like a little girl, a young woman without sense or thought, staring in admiration at this man, much older and wiser than her, a man she found immensely attractive, unexplainable fascinating and overwhelmingly powerful and whose words she soaked up as a sponge and who could turn her head with a gesture of his hand.

'Are you ready to be punished?'

'Here?'

'That is not an answer to my question.'

'I am ready to be punished.'

In a flash I saw for my inner eye how he would have me lean over the table and spank me, there and then, in the café, with my skirt raised and my bottom on display.

'You know it will be harsh?'

'Yes, I know.'

'That spanking I gave you will seem like a caress.'

I shuddered.

'Do you know what a cane is?' he continued.

I nodded.

'Do you?'

'Yes, I do.'

'What is it, then?'

'Something you use to whip people with.'

'Yes, that is correct. And when we go back to my flat I will use the cane on your body, as a punishment.'

'Yes,' I said and looked down.

The thought of the punishment, the punishment I had known about for three weeks, had become very real in a sudden. Now I knew what it would mean.

I thought about the spanking he had given me. It had hurt but I wondered, in my heart, if not my pride had been more hurt than my body. It had been painful but when I thought about it I was more upset by the fact that he had spanked me than the smacks themselves. When I remembered them now they seemed to burn in my soul, burn of humiliation and shame.

The cane was something else. I had no real understanding of what it meant but I imagined it to be something brutal, something immensely cruel.

We didn't speak more at the café but rose and left. My legs were trembling as I walked by his side. I felt dizzy and weak and walked with a strange detached feeling. My heart was pounding as I went to my punishment as a sheep, a creature without a will of her own.

When he opened the door to his flat and I was ushered in I felt as if I was entering another world. I had been there before, I had even knelt naked in the hallway but now it felt like something else, something new and terrifying.

I looked around his living room and it seemed as I had never seen it before, never noticed the Persian rug, the comfortable sofa, the red armchairs. The oaken table seemed strange and unfamiliar with its six high backed wooden chairs. I saw it with new and different colours, as if it was newly decorated. Yet I knew I had seen it all before and admired it, thought that he had good taste and the money to indulge in it.

'Go and get the cane, it is on the sideboard.'

I turned and looked at the imposing armchairs and the little sideboard between them. I froze as I saw the cane.

I walked over and picked it up. It was a sturdy stick, hard as steel. I took it by its handle and walked back to him.

'Hold it for a while. This is the tool I will use on you for your punishment.'

I held the cane in my trembling hands. It felt like something living, like something evil, something that meant me harm, something I wasn't allowed to hold.

'Please, will you take it.' I said and held the dreaded thing out to him.

'Place it on the table!' He indicated the great dinner table.

'Do you know what you are doing here?'

'Please, will you just punish me?'

'Do you know what you are doing here?'

'I am here to be punished.'

'But do you really know why you are being punished?'

'Because I didn't obey you.'

'That is correct but do you know what it entails, letting me punish you?'

'You are taking me back?'

'Yes, but what does it mean to be back with me.'

'That I will have to obey you.'

'Is that what you want?'

'I don't know.'

'What do you want from me?'

'Please.'

'Answer the question!'

'I want you to love me.'

'Are you prepared to obey me then?'

'Yes.'

'And be punished when you fail me?'

'Yes.'

'You know that things have changed between us?'

'Yes, I know that.'

'Take your clothes off!'

Now it was for real. I didn't even hesitate. I moved my trembling hands to my shirt and started to unbutton it. I moved as in a dream.

He looked at me. He gave me no mercy. His gaze made me aware of my actions, made me know I was undressing in front of this man. I had done it before, mostly to be touched and loved but also to beg him to take me back.

Now I was burning with shame as I parted the panels of the shirt and let it slide from my shoulders. I held it in my hands and looked round for a place to put it. He pointed to one of the armchairs so I took a step towards it and placed my shirt on the armrest. I was wearing a simple cotton bra and I wondered if I should take that next or the skirt.

I had no knickers under the skirt so I decided to start with the bra. In my strange state of mind I was fully aware of how odd those thoughts were, that I should be preoccupied with the order I was undressing.

I unhooked the bra and let it slip from me. I placed it on the shirt and looked up. He was staring at me and I was overcome with a sudden flash of embarrassment and had to struggle back an impulse to cover my breasts.

I then unbuttoned my skirt and stepped out of it. I folded it, placed it on the rest of my clothes and subdued a desire to put a hand over my sex.

I had never undressed for a punishment before and the shame I felt at preparing myself for this utter degradation seemed to run through my body like a cold wave. I wanted to scream, to run, to turn and flee, to struggle with this man and overcome him.

I stepped out of my shoes and stood naked before him. He looked at me, let his gaze move up and down my body. He seemed to like what he saw but I didn't know if he found me attractive or if he just enjoyed my humiliation.

'Now, take the cane, hold it in your right hand, handle up and the rest of the cane pointing to the floor.'

I picked up the cane and held it as he had instructed.

'Now, stay there and wait for your punishment.'

I was bewildered. I wasn't to be caned at this moment. I had stripped naked and prepared to be punished and now I had to wait. I wanted to sit down and cry. This was too much, to horrible.

He didn't seem to care but turned and walked out into the kitchen. I heard him rummaging around with something while I stood there, naked, holding the cane trying to fight down my will to protest, to say how unfair this was.

I reasoned with myself and was baffled by my logic. I had, after all, accepted to be punished and if he wanted me to wait, I should wait. This part of my reasoning seemed to accept the absurdity of the situation without a second thought. Still, the calmer me, the rational me, saw how foolish I was, how stupid I was who stood there, to attention, naked, holding a cane in my hand, a cane that soon would be used on my body.

The familiarity of the sounds from the kitchen felt menacing in my predicament. I realised that the man was making tea. He used to take a cup of tea in the evening and I thought it was time for that now.

He came out from the kitchen with a tray. He set it down on the sideboard and sat down in the armchair, the one I hadn't put my clothes on.

I stood there as he had his tea. I stood in a way so I couldn't look straight at him. I cast a glance at him now and then and I saw that he looked at me. He looked pleased with himself. This made me feel intimidated. I wasn't just stupid and very naked, I was weak willed and had bowed to him without protest.

At last, he was done with his tea and I felt my heart start beating harder as he approached me.

'Please, give me the cane.'

I held it out to him and I felt relief as he took it from me.

'Now, will you take that chair and put it where you are standing now, the back facing away from me.'

The chair was heavy but I could still lift it without problem. I placed it as ordered and stood back.

He looked terrifying with the cane in his hand.

'You know that cane will hurt, it is a tremendous instrument, sharp and painful.'

I nodded feeling dizzy again.

'You see, I want it to hurt, it is a punishment and it is supposed to be painful.'

The calmness with which he spoke of caning me made me fear him more than ever before. I wondered what devil stood before me. I hated him in that moment. I dreaded him.

'Will you, please, kneel on the chair, with your back towards me.'

His calm voice was like an insult, like a burning slap on my face. He didn't have to kneel naked to be caned. He could just be there and whip me. It was easy for him, easy and unfair.

My body moved as if I was beyond thinking about the fairness of the situation. I didn't even hesitate but climbed the chair and knelt on it. The hard surface hurt my knees and it was not easy to find a position that wasn't unbearable.

'Stick your bottom out.'

I closed my eyes and held on to the back of the chair with my numb fingers. I took a deep breath and stuck my bottom out.

He placed the cane against my buttocks and I froze.

'This will hurt.'

I nodded.

'You see, I want it to hurt, I want you to suffer.'

I had to struggle to hold back my tears.