Monthly Archives: August 2012

Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came

In 2009, when I was 18 – or just turned 19 – I wrote a poem which was an allegory of a girl committing a murder while also, at the same time, being an allegory of her having sex for the first time. I thought it up in my student room. I then evolved a series of 7 poems which tell the journey this girl goes on, and simultaneously the psychological journey of her friend Roland who journeys into accepting her even when told about her murder. One of the seven poems was published; it also had a losing virginity allegory and was about Roland’s journey. The series takes place in Edinburgh – especially the Southbridge – and Edinburgh landmarks are referenced. The main point of the series is a psychological journey (for both the girl and Roland) rather than the physical acts of murder or sex. There are also Egyptian references that are less blatant than the Edinburgh references, as it is hinted that the girl is not an ordinary person, and that the events may never have happened/not happened in the way they appear as she is not really  – or fully -in Edinburgh. For example, she did not actually go through with the murder, though her intent was real.

The literature fans amongst you will realise by now that the published poem must have been inspired by Robert Browning’s poem, ‘Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came’. I first came across a reference to it aged 13 when reading Alan Garner’s ‘Elidor’, obviously inspired by the folk tale ‘Rowland and the King of Elfland’ but containing a preface featuring the last line of Browning’s epic poem, which is the same as the title. As soon as I read that line, I felt a sense of deja vu as if I had read the line before. The part about a dark tower, especially. I had to read the whole book – poorly wriiten as it was – because of that sense of deja vu. Years later, after writing a couple of poems in the series, I Googled for the poem (I remembered the quote in full) and realised Browning, whose other poems I’d read, had written it. I also found out about the Song of Roland poem, and Shakespeare’s reference to the folk tale as well as Stephen King’s series.

My own 7-poem series possibly inspired my subsequent story ‘The 7 Nights’, a yet-unfinished BDSM/rape/pantypooping story about Chastity and the pervert Roland.

A few days ago I was reminded of Browning’s poem and suddenly realised that the guy I’m selling myself to, whom I call Roland on this blog, did of course make the deal with me in the Tower (a top-floor restaurant on the Southbridge in Edinburgh). And of course the event was indeed about losing virginity and also about acceptance of doing something socially stigmatised, though not as badly stigmatised as murder.

I sometimes wonder if everything I write is doomed to come true. Like in my first year of uni, I wrote a story about my flatmates but then stopped because some things I wrote came true and it was getting creepy. Then, my extended fantasy about police and government spanking and torture in a particular country (inspired by Lochlan’s holiday there in 2009, the time of writing the poem series) was actually true (though not the spanking bit). Upon knowing it was true, I simply relocated the fantasy to Britain, embellished it a lot, threw in a lot of political stuff and called it ‘The UK Government Torture Act’. Now, with accusations against MI6, I worry that this story is also true, albeit that in real life Britain/MI6 gets other people to do their dirty work for them instead of doing it themselves like in my story. But hopefully the accusations aren’t true. All I know about the accusations is just hearsay – it always seems like if I watch the news religiously it is all unimportant, yet if I miss a day, something earth-shatteringly shocking happens. And no, I will not Google it! I can’t bear to hear about this sort of thing! I will just hope that the next update on this story happens on a day when I’m watching the news.If they’re guilty I will freak out, if they’re innocent I will freak out because they obviously destroyed the evidence/lied and got away with it.Interestingly, in the Tower, Roland claimed that MI6 frequently send people to other countries to be tortured so they could get valuable information from them by trusting those countries to pass on whatever the victims revealed. And that politicians knew about this. He said he knew it was true because he read an article online. This was before the recent accusations against MI6. However, what he said goes way beyond the accusations against MI6, which are only tied to 2 specific contexts: Libya and the CIA/Guantanamo.

A ‘childe’ was an untested knight. Like Browning’s Roland, pervert Roland journeyed towards the Tower to have a unique experience, and once turning onto this path he could not go back, instead moving inexorably toward his goal, then doing nothing except announcing his arrival. Though the journey is really mine, not his. And Pervert Roland knew why he wanted the experience – the virgin-whore art thing – while Browning’s Roland did it out of duty or fatalism. And I move inexorably toward the brothel where the artistic porn film/loss of virginity will take place; perhaps it is my own dark tower. And the loss of virginity, will, Roland has hinted, mean the killing of my ‘secondary personality’ Chastity (the murder theme). Another similarity is that, in the poem series, the girl confides in Roland (a character inspired by Lochlan) that she has murdered – a crime she imagines as loss of virginity/innocence. In real life, Lochlan was the first person I told about selling my virginity, and remains the person I feel most comfortable talking to about it.

The dark tower crops up in a lot of imagery: LOTR (Orthanc, Barad-dur), Harry Potter (Azkaban, Grindelwald’s home), C S Lewis’ unfinished story, The Dark Tower, the film Van Helsing, Stoker’s Dracula…though perhaps a lot of these images were inspired by Browning’s poem itself. Although the poem is depressing, I believe it has a positive interpretation, especially in Roland’s final show of defiance and the fact that he unbelievably succeeds in finding the tower. I don’t think the poem is morbid or that the tower represents death.

The ‘dark tower’ literature evolution

Browning’s poem

Analysis ( all non-academic, short analyses):


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The worst thing Roland could do to me

In Brogue’s Scottish album I can’t remember the name of, one song, ‘By the light of the peat fire flame’ contains these lyrics: For the dream, the heart can weep blood.

And selling virginity is my dream. I don’t live in fear of Roland deciding he wants to stop, and neither do I pray for his acquiesence (because God should answer the prayers of people who are starving/politically imprisoned etc first) but if Roland were to say he wanted to stop, that would be unbearable to me. I’ve never wanted anything more. With all my heart, I want this. I need this. Even if occassionally it doesn’t make me feel good. Maybe because I do enjoy most of it?

I worry sometimes that he will stop, out of concern for me. I think Lochlan thinks of Roland as an opportunistic player who is uninterested in my well-being, at least in some ways. But Roland would stop quite easily if he thought I wasn’t into it, or that I was getting too attached to him. Still, I’d rather have this worry than be selling myself to someone who was coercive or potentially dangerous (not necessarily representing a physical danger/being ‘rape-y’ but just not seeing me as a person which could be harmful emotionally, especially for someone like me who’s very innocent and had a very sheltered upbringing).



Well, my faithful followers, it looks like you’re in luck! I have decided to post some photos for your viewing pleasure. The small print: no, neither me or Roland feature in these photos…sorry. But here they are:

I just found this a few hours ago while tidying my room – it’s Roland’s Post-it Note message that he sent along with a cheque for just over £12.00 for doing a spanking drawing commission on Gumtree. I charged £10 per drawing, and he sent a little to cover postage, which was nice of him. I got the idea to do commissions from, a spanking art/forum site where I was given artist status and a gallery, and some other artists on the site would get commissions.

“Hi Kalika, Thank you for completing my commission. I look forward to seeing it 🙂 Here is £10 fee + something for postage, Roland.”

And the brush:


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Kristen Stewart: the double standard in the media

I’m glad to see that Kristen Stewart has finally emerged from hiding and is facing the world. Hopefully the media will wander off to find some other non-story of pointless celeb gossip to spin into international headlines, and we can all stop tutting and pretending we are saints, criticizing some 22 year old cheating on her boyfriend like it doesn’t happen every day in our towns – even to our friends. Actually, how many people criticizing Kristen have slept with someone they shouldn’t have? (assuming Rupert and Kristen even did go all the way, which they may have since both their partners left them, but there isn’t any evidence of this).

It is very odd that Kristen, who is not married and young, is being blamed more than Rupert who is a married 41-year-old with two kids. This is obviously just the double standard rearing its ugly head again.

Before we go into that, there are of course other possible reasons than the double standard:

Kristen is more famous than Sanders, therefore the stories will revolve around her more. This point is supported by the fact that the stories seem to revolve around her (ex?soon to be ex?) Robert Pattinson more than Rupert Sanders.

Kristen being dumped from the sequel to Snow White and the Huntsman could be explained by necessity; obviously, having her, Rupert and Rupert’s (now ex?) wife Liberty Ross working together on set wouldn’t be good for the film; actors must have good chemistry and work together well. However, Kristen is playing Snow White, so it would make more sense to drop Sanders or Ross.

These two points aren’t enough to convince anyone or to explain away all of the hatred directed towards Kristen – being called a ‘trampire’ by the New York City Times, Will Ferrell, and now people wearing t-shirts saying it. ‘Tramp’ – an American shame-word equivalent to our “slut” or “whore” is not being used against Rupert Sanders – even though he’s the one who is married! So, it is obvious that once again, it’s one rule for men – even if they’re married – and another for women – even if they’re young and single.

…And since when does having two men make you a whore? I know girls younger than Kristen who have slept with over 20 guys, they are not called whores. Or is everyone who cheats a whore? That would make Sanders (and a lot of the general public) a whore.


As for the Twilight fans (“Twihards”), how can they hate their heroine – the woman who’s played Bella for four years and given her adolescence to the films they love – because of something she did in private, in the bedroom? Whatever she – or anyone – does behind that bedroom door is nobody’s business but her and Rupert’s own. This whole “scandal” thing is just a family problem between four – that’s right, FOUR – people: Rupert, Liberty, Kristen and Robert. Not everyone in the entire world.

And if Kristen hadn’t done Twilight she wouldn’t have met Rupert and kissed/slept with him (?) anyway. If she’d had a normal entry into adulthood she might even be a totally different person – for better or for worse.

And I’m betting some of her haters cheated on their boyfriends…probably with a lot more than kissing!

I haven’t read or seen any of the Twilight franchise, I don’t even know what character Rob Pattinson plays. Actually, before the so-called “scandal” I had heard of Kristen, but I didn’t know she played Bella; I just knew she was a famous young up-and-coming actress. So, I don’t understand at all how Twilight fans can be “shocked” or “heartbroken” that she kissed Rupert; I mean, so what? Maybe Rob played Edward and they were imagining Bella and Edward existed in real life? They need to grow up. How many of them cheated? That being said, a lot of Twilight fans support Kristen, too.

Why this sucks more than the Twilight franchise

This has been an everlasting, hyped-up bullying of one young actress that has gone on for exactly a month today and forced a talented girl to go into hiding for having a kiss. In this day and age, this is ridiculous. Especially in Hollywood, where marriages never last, cheating happens all the time and even the older people are jumping into each others’ beds – or cheating on their wives with much younger actresses. Even in America and the west more generally, this stuff happens all the time. But god forbid it happens when you played the lead in a major franchise, because obviously that makes you the spawn of Satan. If I’d done this, I wouldn’t be on the news, would I? The media only hounds you when you’re famous.

I’m sick of seeing public apologies for what two people do in bed. Both Kristen and Rupert apologised publically, and though their apologies were aimed at their respective partners, they were phrased as if apologising to the nation, and were posted online instead of told to the people that they hurt. Come on, seriously? Year 2012, we all have the right to have sex, everybody (especially in Hollywood) is fucking everybody else, and they’re apologising to the public? For the “embarrassment” she caused? To who? Who would possibly have the right to be embarrassed over what anyone else does?

Perhaps the saddest thing of all was that this wasn’t done deliberately; the media corporations didn’t sit down between 17 August and 24 August to decide how big they were going to make this thing on a scale of 1 to 10. They didn’t script in Will Ferrell or plot to make T-shirts, or decide to leave Sanders in peace. This month-long shaming of a talented girl was done – not accidentally, but in a non-planned way. And it couldn’t have been pulled off with more success, vitriol and emotional damage to Kristen (and her friends and family) if it had been a planned operation by her worst enemy. This shows just how much the double standard still rules us and how constrained female sexual behaviour still is – even in Hollywood.

Hopefully, the media will get bored now that she’s come out of hiding. It has been confirmed that in a week she’ll be promoting her film On the Road, so things will probably go back to normal soon. Reportedly, she and Rob have been speaking again. But things aren’t all rosy; while Liberty isn’t speaking to Rupert, Kristen’s name has been smeared a lot more than his has (if at all). According to TMZ, she “fears that her career has been irreparably damaged” (source below) and doesn’t think she deserves that for a one-off mistake. She also knows that she is being blamed much more than Rupert, instead of taking a half share of the blame like what normally would happen – actually, in a case like this, usually Rupert, the older married man, would’ve been given more of the blame.) Kristen is reportedly very angry and upset about this.

Kristen is being punished (several promotional appearances and a role in the SWATH sequel cancelled) while Rupert is not. She’s being punished for kissing a man. And here I was thinking these were “freer times” compared with the old Victorian double standard and restrictive morality…


Articles defending her:

The emotional damage caused to Kristen by the media’s hounding and invasion of her private life:

Kristen knows that she is being unfairly targeted by the public and media while Rupert isn’t criticized much:

The “trampire” shirts that Kristen’s “fans” are wearing:


Posted by on August 25, 2012 in Feminism, Media


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Bristol Palin: Mock the woman, not the teen mom

OK, Bristol Palin and her mother are not exactly my favourite people in all the world. If you’ve read some of my other posts, – or even the title of this blog – you might deduce that, in fact, we are natural enemies. And you would be correct.

Bristol’s recent claim that Obama was just listening to his daughters on the issue of same-sex marriage was idiotic. (So too is the fact that she earns hundreds of thousands preaching abstinence when she herself wasn’t abstinent. And the fact that she isn’t in college when she has the grades to go to college.) I do not defend her claim, nor pretend to have an in-depth knowledge of that issue; I am simply uninterested in the whole thing, as I’m not American and neither Bristol nor Obama are as interesting to read about as Santorum, who is still my favourite lunatic devilspawn idiot. He will always have a place in my heart.

So, while I am opposed to Sarah and Bristol’s existence on the planet, I feel that we should not stoop to their level. There are some things that are off-limits, for our own good and the good of society and feminist principles. I’m talking about the comments below the stories of Bristol’s rant that shame and deride her for being a young mother. The comments include “she can’t keep her legs closed for 15 minutes” “shut your mouth and your legs” “Bristhoe Palin” “I bet Obama’s daughters wouldn’t end up preggers at 17” “where’s your baby-daddy?” “She’s a whore” and many others, depending which article you read.

Now, I understand that Americans – unsurprisingly – want to call her a slut because of the moral high ground she and her mother take, the money she earns indoctrinating innocent children with abstinence and repression, her mother’s abstinence education stance, and the threat to their freedom that they genuinely fear from her mother. If I was American, maybe I would see it diffeently; I don’t know.I don’t claim to know the entire catalogue of Sarah Palin’s ridiculousness.

However, these shame-words and offensive insults are saying that teen mothers are promiscuous whores, a very narrow-minded and untrue belief. Adults are more promiscuous than teens, and nobody knows how many men Bristol has slept with so we cannot call her a whore. They are shaming her just for being a mother, which is one of life’s great joys and, ironically, the traditional role for a woman.

Now, whether or not you are a good mother ot good father does not depend on your age. Women have the right to make a choice about when they want to start a family. And no, it doesn’t mean it’ll somehow, magically, ‘ruin your life’ – Bristol is choosing not to go on to further education, she isn’t unable to because of Tripp. Because of her earnings from preaching abstinence in schools, Bristol is rich enough to hire a team of au pairs to look after Tripp and her own chaffeur to take her to college.Bristol made a choice not to have an abortion and to start her family at age 18 – the age of majority and the second-last year of being a teenager, so it’s a bit of a stretch to even call it “teenage pregnancy”. She started her family with her boyfriend of 4 years, so calling her a “whore” also doesn’t seem to fit. Shaming women for starting families ‘too young’ and de-validating their choices, opinions and freedom to start families is only going to impact negatively on women’s reproductive freedoms and life choices.

So, let’s leave Bristol in peace – not for her sake, but for ours. Or her side – which aims to take away sexual, religious and reproductive freedom from everyone – will win.


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“Right now?” I said, lying over his knee.

“Right now,” he grinned.

My arm was still twisted up my back.

“You have to torture me first.”

“I think you’ve been tortured enough for one night,” he chuckled, and I felt his fat fingertip on my bum, “So I get you to give me answers and only ifI get the answers you’ll do it.”


“So how many do I have to get?” he asked, rubbing my bottom.


“So I have to get all five?”

“Yep. And I can lie.”

He rearranged me on his lap and said “I want you to tell me your favourite colour, and what age you were the first time – or have you – had an orgasm.”

He spanked hard and fast, and I moved and closed my eyes, resting my face on my arms. It hurt a lot. Not like the gentle spanking he’d started off with, and I’d asked him stuff like:

Where do millionaires buy their socks? A: They let their wives buy their socks

Why don’t you live in a mansion like a proper millionaire? A: anything that could be called a ‘mansion’ in Scotland would be a million [He only has nearly 3 million and most of that’s in the company, so I guess he can’t afford it. Weird how rich people can’t afford things, just like the rest of us!], and I don’t need one for just two people

Do you have, like, a private jet you keep at the [Edinburgh International] airport?/probably phrased as “so you don’t have, like, a private jet?” in a disappointed voice. A: No, because they cost hundreds of millions. In the 1920’s being a millionaire meant having a lot more than today.

I suppose he’s right and a million isn’t really a lot; after all, half a million is only 500,000 which is a lot but it’s not that much; enough for 4 or 5 houses, I guess. And a quarter is just 250k.

He spanked my thighs too, which I’d thought I would dislike, but I actually enjoyed it.


Anyway, right now he was spanking really hard and I was moaning and whimpering a bit. “Are you ready to tell me?” he asked. “No,” I said, burying my face in the sofa arm. He spanked even harder, the noise of each slap really loud. I put my hand down to try and hold the burning skin, but he grabbed my arm and easily twisted it behind my back. As if to punish me, he slowed down a bit but made each smack come down really hard and each time he spanked me I moved. “It’s too hard!” I whined, and he stopped. “Well then, what is your favourite colour?” I shook my head and he continued, pressing down firmly with each smack. It was very painful and I realised that I’d underestimated his strength – or my resilience – and would never be able to keep from revealing the five things. He had all night to spank me. I could, I thought, quickly reveal four things and make him work for the fifth, but that wouldn’t help me. I needed to stall him.

So I said, “I need the bathroom.”

He stopped, and let me up.

In the bathroom I put cold water on my bum but I knew it wouldn’t really help me withstand it, and I had to stall him more. When I came out Roland made us coffee again, and I guessed he must’ve known I was trying to stall him and was letting me do it. By this time it was around 10-11pm.



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A long spanking

Roland made me lie over his lap on the sofa, in my favourite position. He lifted my navy and cream dress and pulled my tights down a bit, and of course I was in heaven. Then he just started spanking me, lightly, with the wooden dog brush I’d brlought. It was very relaxing and therapeutic. He was talking to me sometimes, I can’t remember what he said. His voice was measured and calm, like always.

“You can do it harder,” I said, and the smacks suddently fell heavier with a bigger slap/thud sound. After a while it began to sting and I shifted a fraction. Roland continued to paddle me much harder than the other times, and I sometimes moved my legs a little because of the pain. Then he made me pull my dress off, saying “Queen Tut was naked when she got spanked.”

“Well, her bum was naked, but she had clothes on,” I said.

“It’s the same thing,” said the CEO of the company I’m not allowed to name. (What a classy gentleman). “And let’s get rid of these as well,” he said, pulling off my tights. One thing I’ve noticed about this particular sex maniac is that he likes to undress me progressively instead of all at once.

He let me keep my bra on, for some reason. (I was wearing red and black underwear and bra; usually I wear red, sometimes black, occassionally prints in brown, cream or gold colours – not that it’s of any consequence since nobody ever sees it except Roland).

The brush seemed to hurt more now; maybe he was smacking much harder. Roland twisted my arm over my back because I kept trying to deflect the brush and rub; I liked that a lot. He tried out the different implements, saying “this is the spoon – and this is the other side of the spoon – now which do you prefer?” and “that’s the flogger, last time you said this was your favourite.” He took a few experimental swings, although I doubt he could swing very well sitting down.

It seemed like a short time but we probably did this for an hour or two (by the way, it was 2am before we attempted to go to bed and we were doing spanking stuff the whole time from about 7:30pm, which means I’m not as expensive as Roland claims because I was his prostitute for about either 7 or 8 hours, including the studio stuff, so it’d be a rate of either £150 (approx) or £125 an hour which is average price.) So he definetly got more bang for the buck that time. Heh. Anyway if he ever says my price is high again, I will point this out to him. It’s just a matter of him using his time with me constructively and making me stay for more hours.

Then Roland went to change the music which was pumping out in surround sound from his laptop to a playlist of songs about naughty girls, and I went to the bathroom and looked smugly at my reflection, just very happy (I’ve heard Ana spends a lot of time staring in the mirror in 50 Shades; I hope this blog isn’t becoming like the trilogy. But I don’t think it is, because I have my own agenda, motives, kinks, hobbies and character-specific skills, unlike Ana who is pulled into BDSM by Christian and just does whatever he says (with or without endless agonizing beforehand). And Roland isn’t an abusive, controlling stalker with feelings of shame about being kinky.

We had more coffee. Then the spanking resumed to the Scissor Sisters’ ‘Filthy Gorgeous’, Beyonce’s ‘Naughty Girl’, Sting and The Police’s ‘Roxanne’, Ciara’s ‘Love and Sex and Magic’ and the Pussycat Dolls’ ‘When I Grow Up’. Though I would also think Queen’s ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’, R Kelly’s Ignition/remix to Ignition (songs I’ve always loved, as it is actually the way I think about boys), Your Sex is On Fire,  and (from my point of view, and not necesarily about naughty girls/girls who should be spanked) Big Brovaz’s ‘Favourite Things’,  Gwen Stefani’s ‘Rich Girl’, Lady Marmalade,  R Kelly’s The World’s Greatest, Mika’s Love Today, Nelly Furtado’s Promiscuous Girl, The Bad Boys (are always catching my eye), The Fratellis’ Everybody Knows You Cried Last Night, Shakira’s She Wolf, were also appropriate…should I just Google phrases like ‘naughty girl’, ‘naughty boy’, ‘pervert’, ‘prostitute’ ‘slut’ and ‘spanking’ with the word ‘lyrics’??

Although who knows, maybe all those songs were on the playlist; how would I know? In the state of lust I’m barely aware of anything, though Roland seems capable of thinking clearly when in heat. I certainly can’t.

Roland spanked me for a long time with the spoon, brush and a paddle, and got me naked. He then bent me over a footstool or coffee table to whack me a few times with the flogger, then over the arm of the sofa. The fire was burning in the fireplace with no guard; it was beautiful. […]take me home tonight/Ooh down beside your red firelight…I like fire. Then he said it was time for me to be tortured/interrogated into revealing 5 things, and if I revealed them I’d have to give him a blowjob. It’d been my idea and I was pretty confident, a confidence that was to prove completely unfounded…COMING UP: more spanking, caning, anal toy, knife play, attempted vampirism, other weird random stuff…


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