RSS

Tag Archives: student

Photoshoot debauchery: the final installment

Before I describe the sexytime, I’ll briefly mention this funny shit:

After we’d decided I should stay over, I was giggling “We weren’t even drinking and it was still daylight; it was 3pm when we started. So we haven’t got any excuse – we’re just sluts!”

And, “You’re easy. I just met you and in less than an hour I had you by the balls.” “Yeah, LITERALLY!” said Donny.

Later, he joked about closing the window in case a rapist got in and came after me. I said it wouldn’t matter because Roland is not a virginity fetishist, so if I sent him copies of the police reports proving that it was rape, he probably wouldn’t cancel our deal and I’d also get Criminal Injuries Compensation for the rape so I’d end up even more loaded.

And I’d also made Donny strip and do a dance with his thing flopping about while I lay on the sofa and giggled a lot.

Anyway, back to the sexytime:

(Sexytime was the best word Sacha Baron Cohen ever coined. Just sayin’.)

I’m not going to give a blow-by-blow account like I do with Roland.

The first couple of times the bottle ended up pointing at Donny, to my great delight. I had him stick the Smirnoff bottle up his bum while facing and watching The Ring as Rachel held Samara’s skeleton in the well. I made him keep watching. It brought me pleasure just forcing him to watch it. At other times I pissed on him (iun the bathroom), discovering that I actually do enjoy watersports after all. I also rode him like a horse, spanking him with the hairbrush to make him go and strangling him with a belt to make him stop. I also got to spank him but only briefly because he didn’t enjoy it.  I also tried to make him wet himself but he said he wouldn’t be able to do it. Of course, roughly 50% of the time the bottle pointed at me. So, I ended up doing stuff like cock worship and having a belt tied around my neck and having to be a dog. Donny dragged me around the room on all fours and made me roll over and beg. At other times he made me stick a screwdriver up my bum and do forward and backwards rolls with it in. He also made me stick the other Smirnoff bottle up there. I also got my first taste of anal fisting, which hurt A LOT and I kept screaming and thrashing around, but was utterly determined not to ask him to stop. I can bear a lot of pain, but only sometimes. He did get five fingers in. I also sat on the sofa and made him present his bottom to me, saying “Queen Tut, you have the authority to spank me.” Of course I couldn’t resist smacking the two round cheeks. Then he had to kneel in front of me with arms outstretched and say “Hail Queen Tut.”

So basically I found out that I like being dominant in all aspects of BDSM except spanking, where I’m a switch. Then we went into the bedroom and did anal, which hurt a lot and was just painful with nothing good about it. He never got all the way in. Then we slept as the candle burned. I woke up many times during the night, always aware of where I was.

The next morning, the clocks went back. Donny wouldn’t tell me what time it was, teasing me that he knew something I didn’t. He said I should go round to Roland’s house and see what he says. I pointed out that Roland lives a distance away. We went out for breakfast and somehow got talking about US oral sex laws in Louisiana that had been made to catch gays in the 1990s but sent a 17 year old to jail for 10 years for oral sex with a 15 year old – despite repeated efforts to get him pardoned. He’s still there. Donny said imagine what we’d get for what we did last night – probably the electric chair! Back at the flat, his radiator caught my eye because it was so hot. I asked him to push me onto it. Donny was brilliant – he started interrogating and strip-searching me for drugs, then pushed me onto the radiator. It burned and I yelped; I got a red swollen bit on my bum that was sticky. He said he’d never met a girl as openly kinky as me. We went out on a few business calls, then back at the flat he spanked me, but only for a while because he was tired. Then he drove me to Princes Street, saying he would respect my privacy and not post the photos, and likewise he didn’t want me to put his real name on this blog. He kissed my cheek before dropping me off, saying I could stay over again or call if I wanted.

I wish I wanted to see him again but I don’t. I don’t know why. I enjoyed doing it with Donny more because he’s more attractive than Roland and I actually fancy him. But Roland is sexier – his voice and the way he oozes perversion, and the way he spanks. The spanking and roleplay is better with Roland. I wish I did want to call Donny but I don’t. It’s like, the challenge is over; I won, I had sexytime with him, so now let’s move on to another guy and see if I can get him, too.

But you never know – if Roland doesn’t call me soon, I just might get sexually frustrated and call Donny. Who knows?

 

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Let them eat cream

I just played an RPG http://spankingadventures.webeden.co.uk, a ‘choose your own spanking story’ set in a mystical mansion outside of time where you start as a slave with the possibility of progressing to Mistress; the ultimate goal is to become Supreme Mistress, but it could be GAME OVER any time. It is a very detailed, long and varied RPG; it took me over 2 hours to get this far and I read very fast (so far I’ve reached Mistress level).

I really want to stay as Mistress in that mansion, until the end of time.

But I could not forsake my Egyptian palace for it, and my responsibilties there.

 

Now, back to the actual stuff that really happened:

Roland was lying on the floor of the studio for some reason and I was sitting on top of him, naked except for the purity ring, bangles and maybe a necklace. I don’t know how this happened – maybe he was lying next to me and I just clambered on him? I think I said that he couldn’t get up with me sitting on him. Anyway, he had clothes on which continued to irritate me, but I was equally afraid that if I took them off he would be all wobbly rolls of fat, undulating and bobbing slickly under his skin.

We were talking about some stuff and I began to thrust in a rolling sort of motion, first sitting and then with my weight equal on all four limbs; at first I was gentle, then harder and squeezing my thighs as each thrust was completed. I imagined that he was mine, to torture and to dominate at my pleasure.

“If we were in my palace right now, I could torture you,” I said. This amused him, but I can’t remember what he said.

I blindfolded him. Then I jumped off him to get the whipped cream, climbed back on and squirted the cream in his face, giggling, and then in his mouth, forcing him to eat it. “That’s for being a millionaire,” I said, rocking now, “I don’t like rich people.”

A little while later, being puzzled why he wasn’t getting hard, I asked “Why isn’t this working?”

“Because I know that’s your kink,” he replied, still eating the massive wads of cream, “And I’m not going to let you have it. And I don’t have much of a submissive side.”

“Wait – you can control it? All men can?”

“Yes, except in very few situations,” he said.

“I can’t – at all. I wonder why – but I guess women are just more sexual. We’re multiorgasmic.”

“Well, yes,” Roland said in a very educated tone, like there wasn’t a naked hooker dry-humping him on the floor of a studio, “I think that’s it.”

“But in some situations it would work, like how you can control yourself not to come but sometimes you couldn’t control that.”

“Yeah.”

“So if I wanted to, I could tie you down and do this and rape you and force you to impregnate me.”

He chuckled. I was moving backwards and forwards this whole time and it was having no effect. “Well, no, because of something called the pill.”

“Yeah, but if I wanted to get pregnant. I could force you.”

“Well, yes,” he admitted, still swallowing Kalika-cream, “you could.”

I licked the cream off his face.

 

Then he drove me to his house. On the way out of his studio and on the drive, I found out that he wasn’t disappointed that I would’ve done it for less, because he  wouldn’t have wanted me that many times if it had been for less (and neither would I; I hadn’t envisioned 8 times at all till he said it at the restaurant.)

I also found out that if I’d said my student debts were 12k he’d just want to see me more, so it would’ve been the same, as we might do more than 8 times anyway – well, actually, it would’ve been less as he’d have wanted 15 times for 12k so it wouldn’t be a k a time. So, I’m really happy about that! It was important for me to know that. I don’t think Roland realised it was important for me to know that.

He can’t grasp how much I love money.

As we neared his house, I knew which one it was, and I was correct. Sometimes I’m just slightly psychic like that. Well, actually, it’s not psychicness, but sensing certain feelings and the air.

 

 

 

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

List of all known people who have sold virginity

I have decided to compile the World Wide Web’s only list of everyone known to have sold their virginity, along with the amount and outcome. (Does not include people who planned to sell their virginity but have no evidence of a serious attempt to carry on with the sale, or people who traded it for shoes, Justin Bieber tickets, marriage, Apple products, commitment, Blackberrys, or small amounts of money. These all happened – Google it.) As brothels and agencies take large percentages of the amount, it is not known how much some of the sellers recieved, especially if they were taxed.

A 16 year old Irish Girl posted ad/auction on Gumtree.co.uk to fund Art supplies for university -attempted for £6,000 Result not known http://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/news/local-national/northern-ireland–teen-selling—virginity-to-highest-bidder-14650532.html

A New Zealand 19 year old student, through action site ineed.com, equivalent to £20,000  http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/australiaandthepacific/newzealand/7146187/Poor-New-Zealand-student-sells-virginity-to-stranger-for-20000.html

Noelle, a Belgian 21 year old student through an Amsterdam escort site – £45,000 for 24 hours. Bidding started at £4,200 and after two months of bidding it rose to £45,000. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1383814/Student-sells-virginity-online-45-000-shes-keeping-identity-secret-case-parents-out.html

Australian, Chinese-born schoolgirl through escort agency – $12,000 (whatever that’s equivalent to in GBP) for 2 days or $15,000 for 4 days, depending which story you read. The agency will take up to 50% http://news.ninemsn.com.au/national/8462671/sydney-escort-agency-selling-schoolgirls-virginity-for-12k

Natalie Dylan (not her real name) , 22 year old American student, through a Nevada legal brothel to fund a postgrad degree, goal of a million USD, sold for 3.7 million (amount never verified, actual transaction never verified). She got the idea from her sister paying for tuition after prostituting herself for 3 weeks.http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,480037,00.html

Alina Percea, German erotic website18 year old student, to help her family in Romania and fund university education -£8,000 but may have lost over half in tax and VAT, leaving her with over £3,000 in the end. She claimed they set up another meeting, and this time she wouldn’t make him pay.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/germany/5363002/Teenager-who-auctioned-virginity-loses-half-the-money-in-tax.html

18 year old Hungarian girl, to pay off family debts and go to medical school,  £200k but knew she will lose half in tax. http://www.thesun.co.uk/sol/homepage/news/3083258/Teen-girl-sells-virginity-to-Brit.html

18 year old British student Rosie Reid, a lesbian in a relationship. Sold through Ebay then through a website she set up after Ebay shut down the bid, £8,400. Sold to a BT engineer to pay for tuition fees. She initially posted it as a joke but then recieved responses and realized people would pay.

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Slutty dreams

Ah, ‘slut’. The perfect word. I am a slut. What kind of disgusting slut would sell her body? And not only agree to such a thing, persuaded by a much older company director, but actually go to a nude modelling shoot to see if this is the right man to sell her virginity to. It’s absolutely disgusting. Dirty. Sordid. Unseemly. Naughty. Bad girl. Obscene. Licentious. Libidinous. Perverted.

I hope by the end of it I feel used and dirty. I tried to cry when I ran away from Roland and he cornered me, demanding that I could either give him a blowjob now or do it “with a sore bottom” [back in a sec]

Right, where was I? Oh, yes. I wanted to cry, but I cannot cry at will, something that I regret. I can act very well and can lie very well, but I cannot cry, though I can fake crying and people will believe it. (Then Roland was all like, ‘If you don’t want to then we don’t have to’ which left me feeling insulted; what gave him the idea I couldn’t do it?? Except that I attempted to run away from him, then later did run upstairs where he cornered me). Then he was all like, ‘Are you really sure?’ about six times in different words. Why didn’t he just stab my bum with the knife and carry me downstairs, take the knife out, put it to my throat and tell me to get sucking? (Note: this is not a serious rhetorical question, unlike in 50 shades where Ana wakes up in a hotel and is all ‘Why didn’t Christian rape me while I was unconscious?’)

Anyway, the point of this post is that the other night I had a dream…a song to sing. I was in a student flat while a stunning boy one or two years older than me, with black, floppy hair (which I like) had sex with me. He knew I was a virgin. It hurt a bit but went on for a long time and was great. After that we drank coffee and agreed not to see each other again because we had fulfilled our agreement. Then I woke up in bed, realizing that I’d been dreaming about last night, took a morning-after pill, checked the time, realized I should’ve taken it before, wondered if I should go get emergency contraception, and went back to sleep.

Then I REALLY woke up and after a few minutes of worrying about this and deciding to go to the doctor for emergency contraception, I realised it’d been a dream.

I think the dream was showing me/was my brain showing me what would’ve happened if I hadn’t sold my virginity. That I could’ve had my dream man as a hookup but not been paid. My brain was idealizing the encounter – dream boy, no commitments. However, it seems that my subconcious thinks that unplanned pregnancy or stress would have resulted from it. I wonder if my subconcious was telling me why I must not annoy Roland – “Even if you found your dream man, you would be unhappy because you lost the opportunity to sell yourself”. -As Freud would say. He does oversimplify things and read sex into absolutely everything. However, in my case it’s warranted as the dream was about sex. And my dream was telling me that Roland is the opposite; someone I find deeply unattractive, but with whom I would apparently not get pregnant (for some reason). Or was the dream telling me that pregnancy from a student would only bring anxiety, whereas pregancy from Roland (if carried to term) would bring lots of money (child support)?

Possible meanings of the dream:

If I have sex I risk unplanned pregnancy

Sex with someone other than Roland is risky/Roland is safe

You can have a dream boy and stress, or Roland and money

You should get pregnant by Roland to get child support

At all costs avoid getting pregnant

There are so many methods of contraception that you won’t get pregnant

Losing your virginity will result in anxiety

You should break the deal and lose virginity to someone your age

If you don’t sell yourself to Roland, you will be stressed

Do not be a virgin when you have vaginal sex with Roland

Get pregnant by a good-looking man so your baby will look good, then tell Roland he is the daddy

If you don’t love Roland, as he claims, you shouldn’t have sex with him

The deal is a bad idea – you should hook up once and no more

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Waiting…

I’m in the Main Library, waiting for Roland, who is going to pull up round the corner near the steps on Buccleuch Place. He’s texted me while I was on the bus that he’ll be late cos of something at work. I just replied to Leanne’s text but it looks like it didn’t send so I’ll resend it after I type this.

He just called me a second ago, after I wrote that sentence, but I won’t type what time he’ll arrive now because I’m utterly paranoid that, if I do, someone in Edinburgh who reads this will arrive in Buccleuch Place first to intercept us. (See, this is why I don’t watch police dramas or spy movies – I’m quite paranoid enough as it is.) Now, all you kids out there who are reading this disgusting x-rated blog without proper parental approval: WORK HARD, GO TO UNIVERSITY AND BE SUCCESSFUL. Because then you might end up being a) the boss of a company and b) well-off so that c) you can leave work whenever you want to pay someone less than half your age to have sex with you.

Dear God, what has happened to good old-fashioned values? I bet people like Lloyd George, Thomas Jefferson and Marilyn Monroe weren’t skiving off work to sleep with people…oh, wait…

What I’m afraid of (as I texted Leanne but it didn’t send) is that Roland (if he had his shirt off, which I haven’t yet seen) will look like a blancmange…wobble-wobble. And then I might vomit. I don’t like wine (love vodka) but maybe I’ll have some to prevent throwing up later on. It might be better if I’m out of it a little bit laer on. I just worry he has moobs (man-boobs) so yeah if I have something to drink I’ll do better. But he’s not actually fat or probably even overweight so maybe he has a stunning body and I’m worrying over nothing. At least he is tall, and has broad shoulders and a nice voice. Nice eyes, too. I like the way he looks at me. I’d better go now, dear readers.

I’ve come back into the library cos he’ll be another 20 mins.. I was half-suspecting he is doing this deliberately to get me more sexually frustrated so it’ll be easier for me and better for him, but then he told me someone got fired!! But he didn’t “directly” fire this person, they’ll “see how it goes”. Obv I sympathise this person and their children if they have any, and I hope everything goes well for them. But Roland actually firing someone is really sexy and I think it makes him more attractive. So no more worries about throwing up now! Yay! I wonder what he’s telling his colleagues about why he’s leaving? “Just off to fuck a hooker” doesn’t sound very professional. Maybe “just off to see my girlfriend who’s young enough to be my daughter and won’t do it unless I pay her” would sound better? Somehow, ‘girlfriend’ always legitimizes things, it sounds better than ‘FWB’ or ‘some woman’. Anyway, toodles.

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Being even happier than usual (if that’s even possible)

Before I continue the story in my next post, I wanted to tell you this stuff that happened over the last couple days which illustrates the similarities of poly relationships with mono relationships/similar problems, the unpredictability of social attitudes and just some random stuff that makes me so happy.

Firstly, remember the guy I mentioned who I would consider committing to? He dumped me because “I long ago told you that my personal version of Polyamory involves committed, loving, and trusting relationships.  This is not what you want; you have said as much…your comments made me realize that I should not be spending time talking with someone — especially long, drawn-out conversations which only lead to fights and disagreements — who doesn’t want security and care (the “white picket fence is a prison wall” comment was very revealing about your attitudes towards roots and stability) when I should be out there finding someone who does…you will become a formidable person, which is my sincerest wish for you.” Which is all true, so fair enough. I do miss him, though. I am far more attached to him than he realises. I wish I could make him happy forever and never have to be sad. But neither can I deny that since the moment when I read his email, I am the happiest I’ve been in several months; I guess lately I have been worrying about his desire for children; although I’d love to stay in America with him for a few months or even 1 or 2 years, it was getting more and more obvious that he wants much more than that. Being young and beautiful, I am not ready to settle down. I crave thrills, new experiences, adventure, exoticness in all aspects of life.

He claims to be able to pierce labia in a way that would time the piercing with orgasms, but in his infinite cruelty he did not give me the instructions for this when he left (or critique the UK Government Torture Act story, which he had nearly 2 months to do.) I will miss him soooo much! He taught me so many things which I’ll use for the rest of my life and he was someone I could trust with anything, and he made me not feel ashamed about my emotional weakness, which only occurs in a certain situation, but which was very shameful and confusing to me. I read his email just after modelling for the law school, and I was wearing a brown steampunk corset over a long-sleeved t-shirt, with a Goth silky red and black cardigan thing; it had ruffles at the wrist and edges. I was also wearing blue jeggings I got in Sainsbury’s. I got the corset online from an alternative store, and the cardigan thing from an alternative shop in Coburn Street which closed down. I got the tee in Hong Kong 4 years ago.

The next day (31st) I did some modelling for my university (to use in prospectuses, law school website and apparently bus shelters all over Britain to promote our law school). It was loads of fun and I met really nice people, we were actually talking far more than modelling because of all the waiting around. It was great getting to know people, especially Masters and Postgrads because our law school is quite socially “divided”, both from the rest of the University and internally among the different kinds of degrees and different kinds of people. The shoot was cancelled the day after because of rain, then I met up with Leanne, who I hadn’t seen in a while (she’s a law student in the same year as me.) We got takeout coffe in the Main Library cafe (I had a mocha with caramel syrup) and wandered out onto the big grass sqaure, which was sodden. So we were walking round this square (the benches were wet) drinking coffee and eating salad (her) and a double chocolate chip cookie (me) which are quite representative of what foods we like to eat respectively. She’s vegetarian and I subsist on chocolate, though I am eating more healthily now to make my hair grow faster.

Anyway, Leanne was saying she didn’t really want to graduate, which are my feelings exactly – I DON’T WANT TO LEAVE UNI!! She asked if I was going to the Grad Ball, and I said yeah, because I’d thought I might be in America with the guy at the time, but since he dumped me I would go to the ball then, as there’s no rason not to go. Leanne’s going. I told her about the guy. Then I wondered why I have way more friends from my societies and clubs than in the law school; I hardly have any in the law school but loads from other courses, universities, hugh school and work, which is a bit odd, I think. Though a couple of girls at the photoshoot were in exactly the same situation as me, so I guess I’m not that weird. And our law school is not exactly conducive to having lots of friends; we tend to have little groups at best.

Leanne said it’s  just about clicking with people and the overrepresentation of snobby students, and that I shouldn’t worry about it. I was saying that I wish I could travel, but for the moment I’ve got to stay here, cos I sort of met someone. She was all, “Cool, what’s he like?” and I didn’t want to lie, but neither did I want to admit that Roland is slightly chubby and really old, as well as only slightly above average in looks, so I just said “It’s complicated,” and I also didn’t want to lie to her that he is my boyfriend because I don’t like lying to her.

Of course she wanted me to spill, and I did want to tell her and had wished I could tell her. But Leanne is a very respectable, conservative sort of person – she even looks like a law student, unlike me and roughly 90% of our law school. (She even has nice sensible hair; its long and wavy but somehow looks sensible; I don’t know why.I mean, neither of us have an actual haircut; mine is shorter than hers and has a thicker fringe and highlights, but mine doesn’t look all sensible like hers and I can’t work out why. Maybe it’s her fringe? Because lots of girls don’t have an actual haircut and their hair doesn’t look sensible. So I don’t know why.) She’s a churchgoer and sort of Catholic-y without being Catholic, if that makes sense (does it? No, it doesn’t. And she is against some very fundamental Catholic principles). Anyway, she’s the sort of prim, proper girl that I would be if someone gave me a libidodectemy. Though she’s had several boyfriends while I haven’t had any which is unfair. But it’s not surprising cos she’s really pretty but then so am I. I sometimes worry what she thinks of me, and this was before I met Roland! So this is why I’m having reservations about telling her, even though I already told her friend Jay.

I said, “What if you don’t like it?”

“Well, I’ve heard a lot of pretty crazy stuff,” she said (it’s pretty much unavoidable at our uni.) “I’m not judgemental.”

“Yeah, I know you’re not…but it’s like, well, I told Jay. But I think that’s actually easier, because I care about, like, your opnion -I’m not saying I don’t care about Jay’s opnion. Just like if I tell you, and you didn’t like it…”

So far, only my best friend Lochlan and Jay knew about it. I was too paranoid to tell my friends in my town or my other Stirling friends. We were walking over the wet dirt-path with the Main Library in front of us again. Then I thought, well, if she’s your friend you should be able to tell her. And if she’s negative about it, she’s entitled to her reaction; and if she’s so negative and judgemental that she never speaks to you again then it’s better that it happens now rather than later when you’ve bonded more. And at least you’ll know what she’s like.

So I said, “OK, but you have to let me finish.” Then I told her: “OK I met this photographer guy on an art-sharing website, he does nude photography and he was based in Edinburgh and I liked his art so he did some photos of me.” There didn’t seem to be a reaction, so I went on “And…so he gave me 100 for that and…he gave me extra for letting him spank me. Like, we’d talked about it before on the website and stuff.” There didn’t seem to be a reaction to this either, or she’s really good at controlling facial expressions, which rather spoiled the dramatic effect. It made it easier to go on, though, instead of lying “…and that’s how we met and ended up dating.” So I went on, “Well, long story short, he’s paying me to sleep with him,” and I thought how simple life could be if we didn’t make symbolic associations to actions, gender and sexuality and make such a big deal out of everything.

“How much is he paying you?” she asked

“8,000. I’ve always wanted to sell my virginity,” I added, “It’s like a kink or a fantasy.”

“What did Jay say?”

“He said it was good that I’d have this experiencde that not many other people have and I’d always like be able to talk about it and have a good story to tell.”  and we came to a massive puddle and turned back, retracing our steps. Just for the record, I was earing my old leather jacket over a long cable knit fitted hoodie and black jeans with knitted shoes; Leanne was wearing a dark sensible-looking top, purple velvety skirt, tights and boots.

“My boyfriend’s into that – spanking,” she said.

I was incredulous. She was the last person I would’ve guessed to be one of my kind, and I wondered if he liked it and she just went along with it to please him.

“Are you into it, or is it like he is, so you just…”

“Well, he really likes it and yeah, I do. Don’t tell anyone.”

I wondered if she was a switch or a domme or sub, but the question just boggled my brain and slid away because I couldn’t deal with it. I could not believe it.

“I won’t tell anyone,” I said. Not that I could, anyway, even if I was a bitchy wee gossip, because she’d tell everyone I was a prostitute. Not that I’d care because I only care what people I like or respect think about me, so I don’t care what they think if I don’t know them, and lots of them are quite adventurous anyway if the goss is true. I thought of telling her not to tell anyone about it but I think she knows not to, and if she didn’t care about my privacy then telling her not to wouldn’t stop her. Actually, I might’ve told her not to tell anyone earlier, before I told her, while I was stalling and agonizing over it.

Leanne said something like “Well that’s not something I would do, I think losing virginity should be with someone special, but I’m not going to judge you for doing it, I think everyone should be able to do what they want.”

“Imagine how much peace there’d be in the world if everyone thought that,” I mused.

Then we went to do the personality test that the Church of Scientology on the South Bridge was offering. We were put in a room to do the test, it was a questionnaire, the Oxford Capacity test which is meant to be really accurate. Leanne showed me what she’d written on her phone: I put a fake name so don’t be surprised if they call me Elena.

I’d only put my first name. When the results came back Leanne was taken to a different room. The woman explained the results to me and said they were very unusual – my happiness and confidence/certainty were close to the 100 mark (extremely high) with aggressiveness (which they define as ambition, ability to initiate things, get organized, concentrate, etc) also very high, as was responsibility. She said the test showed I was very sociable and active and love getting involved so probably I was doing a lot of extracurricular activities/very sociable and generally I’m goal-oriented and don’t reveal my negative emotions to others. I think its 100% accurate. She said my results were the only ones she’d ever seen that were so positive. She then tried to sell me a Dianetics book. She left me to wait for Leanne, but she didn’t return for a long time and I knew I’d missed the bus home so I’d miss kickboxing class, which didn’t bother me cos I’d rather spend time with Leanne. I’d let my social life fall by the wayside because of the dissertation and the exams right after that, and she’d done pretty much the same thing. I then wondered why it was taking so long and if they were indoctrinating her or something, so I decided to go look for her and pretend she had to catch a bus/train so I could just open the door if I heard her voice and tell her it was time to go.

I went down the corridor but I couldn’t hear her at any of the doors, so I turned back to check out the other part of the building when I saw a cute guy with black hair. I’m a sucker for any boy with black hair and also I wondered if I could get it out of him where Leanne had got to/what they do with people who do the personality test, because it might be quicker to get it out of him where she was instead of listening at every door in the place. So I talked to him about Scientology, and he explained how the body could be healed by healing the mind, which I pointed out was similar to Freud’s study of Clara.I detected no lie in his eyes when I touched on where Leanne could have got to – he didn’t know which room, but I knew they weren’t doing anything weird, because he was telling what he believed to be true. So I decided to stop searching for Leanne and we chatted about Scientology and I asked if Scientology had any values; he suggested I buy a book from them. I asked if polyamory was allowed; he didn’t know the word so I explained, but before he answered Leanne turned up.

We left, and she said they didn’t get her test results right, which is true.

We went into our uni’s microlab and went online and I showed her the times of the modelling shoot tomorrow because they were short on models, but she couldn’t make it. I told her I was blogging about Roland. We were doing stuff online and then she goes, “How do I get to your blog?” and that absolutely floored me, I mean I thought Christians aren’t supposed to be reading blogs on BDSM prostitution! What was happening here?! I mean, I’d guessed she wouldn’t be too negative about it, but actually wanting to read about it?? Anyway I gave her the link and suggested she create a wordpress account so she desn’t have to type the link each time.

After that we met up with her friend Duncan and ended up in Beanscene discussing persecution of Gingers, human rights and the media, the answer to my neverending quest to find the best country to live in, equal marriage, and, because I was thinking about this issue, the liklihood of legalizing poly marriage.

Duncan was very nice. I had a mocha with marshmallows and cream, and a crispy cake thing that didn’t taste very nice. Leanne had a berryade that was too sweet and Duncan had a thingie.

I felt very happy as I went home on the bus.

The next day I did some modelling on Calton Hill and met Kimberley who I instantly took a liking to. She asked me if the gold-coloured handflower I was wearing was “my religion” but they’re cultural not religious. Not that it’s even my culture, I just got it off Ebay. We got talking and she saaid I was the most ‘out of the box’ law student ever and she liked me, I was like, “That’s a great compliment from someone who’s only known me five minutes!” and we were giggling and I was all “I wish I was bi then I could take you out on a date” and we were just rofl. Then we all modelled in Princess Street Gardens and about 6 of us who’d gotten pally during the 3 days of shooting went to Maggie’s Pub in Grassmarket afterwards for some food (I had chicken wings and my first taste of breaded mushrooms because Kimberley couldn’t finish hers, and a Vodka and Irn Bru.)We were talking about the Eurozone, EU free movement law, whether Indonesia has “too much freedom” (of the media) as a girl who is from Jakarta claims,  and Ellen gave Kimberley a 101 on the gold standard versus fiat currency, something I know about but don’t know where I learned this. We all added each other on Facebook and got the waitress to take pics. I just checked out the pics on Facebook 🙂

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

The flogger

So there I was, tied over the bench. As he listed out my naughty deeds, he smacked me with the flogger-it stung and the sting radiated out all over my bum. After two whacks, he swung harder , pausing after each stroke to take in the effect it had on my bottom. I tried not to make a sound but I squealed almost every time I felt the hot sting, and it felt almost solid not like felt strips cascading onto my skin. Sometimes the bench rocked a little. His eyes were shining with that purest delight, the joy that is only found in the flesh of others. I knew what he felt because I felt it too; I couldn’t stop staring at him (in between each stroke) and I wished he would take his clothes off and be naked so I could see him..I was watching all the time so see if he was getting hard from spanking me, but I couldn’t tell. There should be a law that all men must wear tiny little shorts that are nice and tight. Except the fat or ugly ones. I just remembered that when I was 13 and started a petition not to have to wear school uniform, my friend who was in my class said that I should make the petition say that all boys should wear a thong, except the ugly ones. As it happened, I stuck with the idea of just petitioning against school uniforms. (I gave it to the headteacher, because it was the headteacher who convened and chaired the Pupil Council. Everyone whose name was on it got called to her office the next day and asked why they had signed it and who had asked them to sign – despite the fact I already told her it was my idea and had started with my friends, which was why I was the one who was handing it in to her. Some signatories’ parents were called and told thert kids had signed a petition.That was the last we heard of it. I think the questioning/calling parents of signatories is discouraging free speech.And petitioning the pupil council or school was not against the school rules; it was done in a non-disruptive, nonviolent way at break time and lunchtime and not in class time.)

Anyway, that was one massive digression, but lying over that bench I wanted to see if he was hard or not. It was amusing seeing how a professional businessman could become controlled by physical drives, with only one goal in mind and a lust that must be satisfied. Are we all instinctual, animals, at heart? I know that, when I spank him, it will feel even better than being spanked.

Roland flogged hard, questioning me about lying that I was about to commit suicide. (I did it because the guy I lied to (who lives in America) has a habit of telling me the most ridiculous lies, which he gets me to believe, then mocks me for being gullible. I’ve tried to get him to believe lies back, but  never been able to get him back for it until I told him I was going to kill myself, which he believed and called the Dept. of Health, Scottish Government and finally the Lothian and Borders police, who, with the help of a lecturer I knew who lured me to where they were waiting under the pretext of a conversation, ambushed me in a University building just after my last exam. I told them it was a joke and apologised for wasting police time. Luckily, they believed me.Five minutes later I met Roland at the restaurant.)

Roland, after briefly flogging me for offering pornography for sale, now brought up the subject of my fake suicide.

“You caused him to worry,” he stated, scraping the flogger’s warm tails over my bum. He whacked me and I jumpd slightly, yelping.

“And he worried so much, he called the police,” Roland continued, rubbing the flogger over my skin, then swatting me hard. I burst out laughing at how funny it was that the guy who had laughed time and time again at my gullibility had finally believed my lie. And called the police, creating a huge drama! How funny and interesting my life was! Roland stood there for a while, totally nonplussed and watching me carefully. (He told me later that at first, he didn’t know whether it was laughing or crying. Then he thought ‘I’ve got to stop her laughing’.) And he did. He slapped the flogger into my bottom hard and I squealed in pain as stinging fire raged across my cheeks; then he did it again, and again until I was screaming.

Then the blows fell lighter, and he stopped and said, “Where did you go for lunch today?”

“The Tower,” I murmured.

“And what did you discuss?” he pressed, looking towards the camera.

“…Stuff.”

He bent closer to me. “What kind of stuff?”

“Selling stuff.”

“And what was it you agreed to sell? Was it…yourself?”

“Yeah.”

 

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,