Rape Porn

•July 23, 2013 • 4 Comments

So I have been meaning to write a post on this subject for a couple of days but this is the first chance that I have had.

I was on my commute to work when I glanced at a copy of the Metro that the gentleman opposite me on the train was reading. It caught my eye as there was a story on the new proposed ban on porn depicting rape and how images like this degrade society etc.

As a female I think I am supposed to be grateful, that somehow my delicate female sensibilities have been protected. That banning porn where this is depicted will somehow stop it happening for real, that the children have been protected etc.

That is not how I feel. I will hold up my hands and say that as a red-blooded female I like watching rape porn, that I like the power the attacker has, I like the feeling I have watching it. It speaks to the part of me that likes to be overpowered, forced, humiliated and shamed.

That is not to say that I approve of real life non consensual rape. In fact much the opposite. In my past, I was raped. It is a horrendous experience, one of betrayal and violation. I would not wish it on anyone.

Taking away our freedom to enjoy such fantasies in a controlled environment feels to me like taking away freedom of personal expression.  It is some nanny state telling me what I am allowed to desire. I am also concerned that what comes next? Caning? schoolgirl spanking? I am sure a lot of my readers here like those kinds of porn. What will stop those being taken away under the guise of domestic violence or pedophilia?

We are all familiar with the theories about violent computer games causing murder and violence, of rock music being the tool of satan. How is this not the same?

There will always be people who take things and use them as an excuse to commit unspeakable acts, terrorists that use religion to cause mass murder, pedophiles, psychopaths but don’t take away the freedom of expression because of the small few.


To a Gentleman Writer from a negligent blogger.

•July 13, 2013 • 2 Comments

Well I have sparked up an interesting online back and forth with another spanking blogger who has taken an interest in my lack of posts lately.

Before reading this post I urge you to read my gentleman friends blog to see the post my post replies to.

Here is a link for you all 🙂 http://www.rosytales.blogspot.co.uk/2013/07/a-reluctant-bloggers-comeuppance.html

As I sit and read this, an almost defiant edge takes my mind. I would not say that I am innocent of neglecting my blog, I in fact know that I do, but the important question is why do I neglect it?

You see talent in me, a fact that makes me blush alone. You see, dear gentleman writer, I am unsure of myself. A lack of faith in myself I suppose. The niggling belief that people aren’t interested in what I write or perhaps that I can’t match up to the wild stories and lives of the other kinksters I know.

Perhaps I do deserve chastisement for my neglect, or perhaps getting closer to the root of the matter, for that lack of belief in myself. Which is the greater sin? Which one of these deserves chastising?

You are right gentleman writer, like so many good, intimate punishments it is good to follow tradition, after all, they would not be tradition if they did not work so well.

Standing in front of you, smoothing my summery skirt and grasping at the hem out of nervousness, or perhaps shyness, it is fair to say I would know that it would only be the precursor to something harsher. I know the game, I quite revel in that game. I think all that stand as the punished do in the end, despite protestation.

However like all bad girls, I know that I have bought this on myself and that it will hurt. Apprehension, the fear of what is to come, that is the psychology behind corporal punishment. Is it sexual? Well that depends on the relationship between the top and the spankee. There will be bare skin on show, which then leads to a certain vulnerability, a certain shame, and a certain nervous excitement, that familiar tingling between my legs, the squirming that the heat of summer just makes more intense.

I am sure, gentleman writer, that you know this, in fact will be watching for it.  What I always wonder, is what goes through your mind, a tops mind in this moment. Do you take joy in seeing these feelings flash through a girls face? Does it raise other feelings? A feeling of power or perhaps even arousal?

What would I choose to wear? Something summery yes. In this heat it could be nothing else. Something with the touch of innocence or perhaps the hint of smouldering sexy? With the only thing in my power being the clothes I wear the choice would be careful and deliberate.

As you make me lift my own skirt, to expose myself to you where would you be? Sitting in front of me enjoying the show, enjoying the look of shame and of shyness on my face, or perhaps standing in front of me, lifting my face to yours so our eyes meet when all I want to do is look down at the floor in shame and shyness and then walking around me to enjoy the view, a look of almost predatory power on your face.

Would you see the flash of fear in my eyes, or perhaps understand the look of fear and apprehension on my face, knowing that I was so exposed. What if you don’t like what you see? What if I don’t meet your standards?

The very last inch of control, my choice of underwear, would be girly, and cute to match my summery outfit. Not black lace, or satin but cotton with a cute pattern, flowery, or with little red hearts against pure white, maybe with a bow or two. Quite a fitting metaphor for the paleness of my skin and the impending rosy blush that will follow.

Laying across your lap now, my skirt raised and my head slightly lowered waiting for what is to come I wonder how this spanking will be administered. Methodical, of that I am sure, but will it be tempered by gentle stroking, in a nurturing loving way, or will it be delivered calmly, in a calculated way while I squirm against you with no gentle touch.

Will I become the bratty teen, struggling and protesting, or will I become the stoic heroine, desperately trying to not whimper, and not to struggle? Who knows, it is always one of those things that comes in the moment. Will I feel your excitement? A hint of hardness against my stomach? Do I squirm more, to incite that excitement? It is one of those mysteries that cannot be answered, that can only be played out as it feels right.

It is still almost safe now, on your lap with my skirt raised and my bottom on show for you to see, the curve and the roundness and the growing burn that I can feel along with the wetness between my legs that I desperately hope isn’t noticeable. I know there is more to come but I have passed that first trial, and the first wave of shame as I focus on the sensations and the warmth on my cheeks.

What comes next I know will be more humiliating. I know that you plan to punish, to have me squirm in shame and have me fully exposed and vulnerable. As I stand, I let my skirt fall giving me a momentary feeling of almost being covered again as you lead me to the bed uncertain of what is coming next.

Laying on the bed as you request, laying on my back letting my head fall back against the soft pillows I feel you lifting my skirt, and hooking your finger into the waistband of my panties I tremble very slightly while you look into my eyes. As you look into my eyes, my panties slowly lowered and removed, I go between closing my eyes in shame and to hide my excitement, and looking at you fully aware of the vulnerable position I am in and watching nervously as you look at the most intimate parts of me.

As you raise my legs, lifting them and making me hold them up as I lay there in full display I whimper a little and know that the wetness there between my legs must be on full display. I feel the tension as my muscles pull as I grip my knees.

As you begin to spank me again, the stinging returns and the discomfort of the position lifts a layer of control in my reactions as I whimper as I hold my position and deal with the burning on my now reddening skin. I wonder if at the end I will be on the verge of tears or like the stoic heroine I still hold it in? I will however whimper, and I will go between watching you and looking away in shame and humiliation, the full extent of how vulnerable I am plain to see on my face.

As you stop and help me to my feet I feel my hands reach behind to the redness of my bottom to rub and ease the stinging. As you pull out the paddle I swallow hard knowing that it will hurt, knowing that it sting much more than any hand can. I look at it in fear and swallow, watching you as you arrange the pillows for me to lay over.

Trembling as I lay over the pillows, and as you bend over me to whisper in my ear I whimper quietly. 5 strokes. I can handle five strokes I tell myself. Just 5 more..

I glance back at the paddle in your hand once more, seeing the hard ash it is made of and clutch the duvet as you take your first stroke, breathlessly gasping as I clench and squirm.

As the next 4 strokes land my gasps turn to pain filled moans as you again bend against me whispering in my ear “which cheek do you want the fifth pop on”?

My reply? It shall but remain a mystery, to let your own imagination have something to envision dear gentleman writer.

Not so willing.

•June 19, 2013 • 4 Comments

So I have thoughts on my mind, thoughts that tonight leave me distracted and unable to concentrate on anything else while I daydream.

I am always so willing. In fact I think there is not a point in my day to day life or kink life where I am not willing to please someone, somehow. At work I spend my day composing letters and emails where I am essentially offering platitudes and apologies,the heart of my job is to do this enough, until the recipient feels in some way that the wrong committed(even if imagined) has been righted. In life, I don’t think their is one of my friends that would not say that I was a nice person, sweet, helpful.

In kink I am always the one so willing to please, bashful, yes, timid, yes, but definitely willing to please, and make right for any wrong committed or be seen as good.

Where is the room for that assertiveness and strength that I have painstakingly started to develop? I quite often swallow down annoyance or anger because it would be ungracious, unbecoming or just plain not worth the aggravation in life. Sometimes I fully imagine letting out that anger, that spark of fire but it’s always imagined. I am jealous sometimes, of those that are fully able to be grumpy, to be assertive to the point where they say exactly what they want and take it with confidence and sometimes in literature of those who are described of having a heart of ice, or of a look as keen as flint, an inner strength, a fire.

I have been wondering of late what it would be like to play a scene where I am not as willing as I perhaps always am. I have no solid ideas yet but I can imagine flashes sometimes. It would probably have to be an RP scene. So I could almost leave behind my nice girl temperament, to channel that part of me.

Of those flashes I see myself standing up for something I believe in, something that will mean I will not back down and something I am willing to argue for or about. I can see and imagine that inner feeling of anger, of fight. Even if that fight is not a physical one as such, a mental one. The unwillingness to back down, that defiant look straight into the eyes of another that say I will not back down no matter what you do to me. I fantasise of that attempt to be broken from that mindset and standing strong in it, of not breaking despite what may come of it, physical or otherwise.

It is not a childish fantasy, nor one of any innocence. There is definetly something intense in this want, this feeling. Something very womanly, not girlish in this fantasy.

I also flash back to the fantasies of my youth. Though coached in childish thoughts, there was  something of this desire in my games. Games often played out with my best friend when I was 10, maybe 12. That make pretend play. Kidnapping, protecting another and not letting them stand in the way of harm. I remember often being tied up, of playing the dutiful handmaiden protecting her queen, not divulging crucial information at the hands of a cruel, calculating interogater. I was obsessed with the stories of King Arthur in my younger years and often they followed that medieval bent. Then of course there was the kidnapping, or betrayal of someone close that put me in harms way. The point of a sword at my throat or chest, the threat of pain terrible or of agonies promised if the proper abeisance was not given.

Then there is the much more physical flashes. The thought of having my face slapped and instead of looking down, or looking sheepish, that look back to the person slapping me while my face stings, not flinching, not blinking, in fact looking back defiantly inviting more.

I fantasise of a captor or someone that I should show deference to, cold, no emotion, torturing me, trying to take that last park of defiance from me. Sometimes that person changes, playing the mix of good cop bad cop, on  one hand cold, calculating, then warm, nurturing almost loving. There is always patience, there is anger, there is honeyed words and there is pain and fear. Fear that I try to deny, to refuse to give in to.

I also flash to that scene in V for Vendetta where Evey is being held captive by V. Ultimately it is to enlighten her but it is also to show her the strength in her own beliefs.

I leave this post almost more distracted than when I started it.


The Search Begins.

•May 19, 2013 • 5 Comments

Well readers, back to Fetlife I go looking for potential play partners. I have to admit I hate the search. I do get a lot of messages from many people but how many of those people are sane, safe and interesting people? Not many I have to admit.

I was speaking to one man, and things were promising. At least I thought they were. There was small talk followed by flirting and a discussion on interests. He was looking for daddy/uncle/teacher and teenage girl/schoolgirl/ neice dynamic and things seemed at least promising, until it went a little creepy and I have had to pull away. It was so creepy I refuse to even repeat it here but suffice it to say I am very glad we hadn’t even met for coffee yet. It really surprises me some of the things people think may be even vaguely ok. I actually asked him if he was drunk on one of the texts he had sent me. I couldn’t believe what he had said lol.

I have taken the time to update and clean out my fetlife account. I think I hadn’t deleted anything since I first joined, I have also unfriended all the negative people aqnd the drama llamas I seem to have collected. Unfortunately that is a lot of the local scene gone now. Oh well. Unfortunately I had to do something because looking at my feed just stopped my desire to even look on fetlife and quite frankly I need a damn good spanking.

I have decided a kink to do list is in order.

1. Finish clearing out my inbox and sorting out my fetlife profile. If anyone wants to say hi my fetlife account is Verity_Paige.

2. Take some new pictures for my profile and for here to reflect the fact I have lost nearly a stone in weight. Eventually I want to look like Christina Hendricks but that will take a year or so.

3. Make myself watch all of the films I have done with Northern. I loved doing them, I love the idea of doing more and how free it makes me feel however when I watch them atm my body conciousness takes over. I mean, how red is my face?

4. I *really* need a good spanking.

5. Post here at least once a week.

6. I *need* a good spanking.

Babysteps for now I suppose.




How to come back from the black hole?

•April 21, 2013 • 1 Comment

I do realise that I have been away from my blog for a while now. I had to step away for a while to deal with some personal matters. I have been debating about discussing further on here and have decided to document why I was away. I know that maybe it’s a little personal but hey, it’s my blog. Ironic really that I find this more personal than talking about spanking and sex.

I had to take some time away from here as the hours I was getting in my previous job dwindled down as I was replaced by students essentially being paid peanuts. Thanks to this I ended up having to move house and find a new job and that took a few months to sort out. It knocked my confidence. I am sure we have all read reports about the unemployed being hopeless layabouts etc and having that fed down your throat by the media every day eats away at you after a while. Especially when it wasn’t the case. It felt like the world had this one viewpoint of me and I felt too ashamed to stay around in the public eye.

Happily I can say I have a much better day job now ( I even get weekends to myself yay), and a lovely new place but it took a lot of work and took a lot out of me to sort out.

During this period kink was the last thing on my mind understandably. I’m the kind of person who needs stability in my personal life before I can think of anything else. Now I am back on track I want to remedy the lack of kink in my life.

I’m also now following a weightwatchers plan to lose some weight as well. So far I have lost about 4lbs and hopefully this will continue and a slinkier Verity will appear.

My big question is how do I come back from this self enforced black hole? I’ll be honest I have tried going back to twitter however I find I lose interest really quickly. I love the people I have on there and hope we can get together soon.

I am hoping to find some play partners, at least semi regular ones. I am despairing atm though. Maybe I have been spoilt with the Spankers that I do know but I find it very hard to find people that I click with. I havn’t found any in my local scene that I don’t find puerile or too far up their own behind, or frankly, as I am being honest, with the amount of skill I am looking for.

I also would like to do some more filming at some point too. I think I have gotten the bug now.

How do other people come back from a break like this? Any advice would be well received.

On another note, have a gratuitous free picture. For more go to the Northern Spanking website where you will see a full collection of shots :). The lovely top featured in the picture is the delightful Miss Zoe Paige.



•August 13, 2012 • 3 Comments


Something has struck me as funny in the past month. There is a huge intolerance to ageplay in the kink scene. However in the CP scene its much more commonly accepted. I wonder why that is.

Ageplay is one of the big things I want to explore. I’m not talking about sitting down with colouring pencils watching Disney all afternoon. Though that sounds fun all in itself! ( I’m a closet Disney fan). I’m talking about the schoolgirl getting lectured and spanked/cane for misdemeanors. I’m talking about the guardian who decides that some harsh lessons in behaviour, being pulled over daddy’s knee for behaving badly at bedtime and spanked with a hairbrush. That kind of thing. I will probably shock the CP crowd by also adding things like schoolgirl rape quite often enjoyed by the Japanese, being caught sneaking in from seeing  boyfriend/girlfriend and an older uncle or guardian figure deciding that perhaps I need to show them the state of depravity I am in by making me remove my under garments and examining just how wet I am underneath. Essentially the corruption of the innocent.
Because of the opinions I have come across in the past month I want to make it very clear that I do not endorse this kind of treatment for real children. That would make me some kind of sickened person. I enjoy these ( for now at least in a more fantasised way) as an act of roleplay between 2 ( or more) consensual adults. I do understand the stigma. For a lot of people this kind of thing is just anathema. You don’t talk about it, you don’t think about it and that it just leads to a blurring of the lines of what is right and wrong.

I am just really emerging on the CP scene. I have been in the more general kink scene for at least 5 years . I have several friends within it. The amount of people within it that are disgusted by the idea of ageplay, or schoolgirl scenes, or anything else like that shocks me. Maybe it is just because it is such an integral kink to me, one that I have up until now has been left unexplored except in my own private fantasies. Perhaps it explains why I like hentai so much.. Schoolgirls abound in a variety of different scenarios.

Its getting to the point I am almost wary of admitting this particular kink. People quite often don’t even let you explain it as soon as you mention ageplay. I’m getting quite annoyed at the intolerance of something I think is a huge part of me.
I think that it stems quite heavily from an abusive childhood on my own part, nothing sexual I would add. I think in a way I am trying to act out the schoolgirl scenarios and the child/authority figure scenarios to safely explore aspects of childhood. I am well aware that I have kind of run with that and combined it with my love of spanking. In my head the ‘child’ involved (me) is in stages of older teen. Again, I do not condone the abuse of children. I do condone the abuse of adult me though 😛

My name is Verity Paige and I like ageplay!

Emotional Release

•July 30, 2012 • 2 Comments

I often wonder how many people use scenes and/or beatings to deal with their emotions. I’m certainly not saying all the time, that would be unhealthy. I am talking about those moods that just hit us and what you really want is to be hit until you can cry and let go and let it out and then feel better again. For those emotions that you contain, that are perhaps the lingering regret and hurt of past situations momentarily pounding your heart to break free and be felt.

I’ve had such a good 2 weeks, meeting lots of new amazing people, had a visit from a pretty lady, and general pervery and fun and I look forward to more. Tonight I was out to dinner at a friends. Homemade pizza, olives and melon, plentiful cups of tea ( fancy right:P) and lots of good conversation. I had nothing but positive thoughts and feelings, and plentiful stories of the pervery with aforementioned pretty lady.

It was quite late on in the evening, Lilly had disappeared to have a bath and Marlowe, Kami and I were sitting around talking and generally just relaxed in each others presence when the hints of not feeling 100% ok made themselves known in the back of my head. Yesterday was the anniversary of a large formative part of my life. One that is no longer present or part of me now and I increasingly started to be unable to accept their presence and was struggling to keep the fact that I was not ok hidden.

Why hidden? Why not say that I wasn’t ok? Frankly its not something I usually find hard to deal with on my own in my own way and it isn’t something that I want to talk out and get into. Marlowe had spotted something was wrong and hugged me and asked if I was ok and I briefly mumbled what was wrong. He was lovely but I didn’t want to spoil a good night with my emotions so I decided, maybe rashly, certainly much more impolitely than I would usually be I left before I got more emotional without saying goodbye to everyone.

I am the kind of person that tries very hard to deal with my own emotions and problems. I’m fiercely independent. I don’t seek out lots of sympathy or enter the territory of the drama llama. I like to not make a big deal of things. On the walk home I was glad that I was heading home to a safe space and felt tears brimming up a little. I know that by tomorrow I will be ok again.

I did however wish I could step into the door and find someone waiting for me. Their arms folded over their dark, sharp suit, standing opposite the door waiting for me. I’d see them and sheepishly put down my bag and hold the cuffs of my jacket in my tightly clenched hands as they watched me. Their face unreadable, their eyes cold and calculating.

I’d feel their gaze bore into me and shudder as I looked up into their eyes for the shortest of glances. I’d look down quickly, unable to keep eye contact. If I don’t look I can pretend that I have some control over my inner self, feeling less like I was exposing my subconscious and inner thoughts through the look in my eyes.

They would step forward and stalk towards me, slowly, deliberately, something almost predatory about their movements. I’d step back until I was pressed against the airing cupboard door,until I was pinned there, as they stood uncomfortably close to me. They would move their hand to my face and drag their fingers across my cheek leaving the lightest of scratches. They would move their hand to my chin, cupping it and pulling my face up until I can no longer fight it and I have to look into their eyes.

Tears would well at the corner of my eyes while I desperately tried to give nothing away  as I watched the line of their lips tighten. Disapproval would be apparent in their eyes. With a cold voice they would tell me I was a very rude young lady for walking out on my friends the way I did and ask if I thought it acceptable behaviour. I’d shake my head quickly before they tightened their grip on my face leaving me unable to move my head.

They would ask me what I thought should be done about it. Inwardly I would be grateful that they hadn’t noticed my inner struggle and look up defiantly and shrugging knowing the action would provoke them.

Grabbing the hair at the base of my neck and twisting it around their fist they would pull me roughly into the bedroom,  forcing me over the bed. Holding me down by my neck they would roughly pull down my trousers and my panties. They would tell me that someone needed to teach me a lesson in manners and that impolite behaviour needed to be beaten out of me because it was unacceptable.

They would start to spank me, hard and unforgiving as I wriggled and tried to pull away. When some of the fight had left me and I was no longer struggling they would pull out the cane and beat me with it. Stroke after stroke until I could no longer count and I was sobbing hard into the bed covers. Eventually they would slow, stroking my red sore bottom softly making me whimper and tremble and pull me up and hold me as I cried into their chest.

Once I had calmed a little and the tears had stopped they would stroke my hair softly and ask me if i felt less guilty for leaving so rudely. I’d nod not trusting myself to speak and as they looked down with concern and affection at me. They would whisper in my ear telling me they knew why I had done it, the real reason I left so suddenly and that it was ok, that I was ok and that any true friend would understand and that there was no need for the guilt. They would ask if i needed more or if I felt better
while pointing to the tawse on the bed….

Sometimes being able to let go is quite cathartic.