As discussed with melinda, I think the trappings of historical dress easier to 'dress up'. Harder to get tone right with modern setting. I also have problems with language - I hate words like tits and dick, but can do if I change my frame of reference. So sometimes I reflect language of protagonist, even when writing third person, rather than first.

With a casual tone belying his pulsing heart and dick he asked Christine to lock the door of the outer office and she got up, wiping her tears and did so. Jonah gazed at that swaying rump. Christine looked very professional today; she was obviously trying to impress him. That tight pencil skirt ended a few discreet inches above her knee and was both business-like and sexy. She was also wearing heels – a nice change from her bloody Doc Marten’s he thought. It was amazing the footwear some of these young women wore! She’d already taken off her smart jacket so he had an unhampered view of that curvy arse as her top was tucked in showing her neat waist.
As she walked back he noticed her nicely rounded tits discreetly covered in one of those stretchy little tops she usually wore under her jacket. He suddenly realised he’d better get his act together in time with her return to his office. He refined his desk slouch by quickly clearing an edge and continuing to lean so he was half leaning and half sitting. He casually eased back so his left thigh was also on the desk with his right foot firmly on the carpet. As he thought that his raised left leg was the knee over which the delectable young Miss Miller would be bent Jonah felt another twitch in the trouser department. It was a good job he was too much of a gentleman to take advantage of the situation, he thought rather pompously as he nervously and excitedly fantasised about the secrets under Christine’s proper but sexy pinstriped skirt.
As Christine re-entered the office now less brisk than she left, Jonah found an insouciance he hadn’t known he possessed. He leaned back with folded arms and raised an eyebrow (he was proud of his ability to raise just the one but though it best not to dwell on raisings – her skirt, his dick…).
With a casualness that belied the screaming, warring feelings in his mind, heart and trousers he looked at the now stationery vision that was young Christine, unfolded his arms, gestured at his left thigh and said:
“Time for your lesson young lady. Bend over.”

I was also thinking about difference in their frames of reference and language

As the slip slowly rode up the nylon clad legs (of course stockings were impossible, he realised wistfully) he took in the delights of Christine’s shapely and rounded young thighs. He knew she was always trying to lose weight but he liked their touch of plumpness. To his delight her plumply rounded bottom seemed encase only in the sheer nylon of her pale flesh-coloured tights. He then realised she was wearing a g-string.
Once again Christine was overcome with mortification at the thought of the old scroat seeing her designer thong revealed in such humiliating circumstances.

Let's just say I share some history with 'Sarah'!

Despite her fascination with the spiritual Sarah was frustrated that somehow she never seemed to quite 'get it'. She's tried aura reading, astral projection, telepathy and spiritualism albeit half-heartedly. She would read the book; talk to the expert; watch the video but somehow get distracted when supposedly doing the exercises. Simple useful techniques like relaxation strategies, yoga and positive visualisation made perfect sense to Sarah but somehow she never actually did them. She was, however, quick to recommend such ideas to friends and customers. She knew she lacked what her mother called 'stickability'. Her ambitions to develop psychically languished alongside the unfinished jigsaws, tapestries and painting-by-number projects of her youth. She wouldn't even think of the bread maker, steamer, electric wok, exercise bike and decoupage kit - follies of more recent times hidden safely in the attic.

This is story I am currently working on - Should finish it soon. This is an early part of the story.

Terror at the thought of her unpunished flesh being beaten meant the lecture was received in a daze. Suzannah, once again pacing furiously, recalled some comments on duty, discipline and justice and she remembered how she had found herself focussed on the horror of his decree. She had found herself blushing as he had told the maid she would place herself in front of her master and have her flesh bared for a spanking.

At his command, the girl had silently turned a chair towards her master and bent with back to him, displaying her modestly covered back and now readily-curved bottom, as she held onto the sides to the chair. Suzannah had realised the girl’s practiced acquiesce revealed a history of such spankings at her husband’s hand, but her thoughts had been interrupted by the repetition of her name on his lips, once more:

‘My Lady. Please prepare the girl for her chastisement. I want her skirts raised. Her carelessness and thoughtlessness does not, however, merit less than punishment on her bare flesh. You will also lower her undergarments.’

As Suzannah recalled the shameful incident of her first experience of aiding another woman with her clothing the pacing once again faltered. Her ladyship was also remembering that further flicker of awe and horrified excitement she felt as she clumsily, and with unpractised hand raised the girl’s skirts. Once again, her kindly husband and guardian became the powerful authoritarian she had seen on that fateful day she had first witnessed him chastising the maid. She had struggled with the weight and volume of the girl’s skirts and petticoats and pushed them up and over her back, leaving the long, thin drawers as the girl’s only covering and realised that this was a temporary protection only.

‘Now, Suzannah, I require the girl’s drawers to be lowered’

The sound of such vulgarity on her husband’s lips was as shocking to Suzannah as the act she was required to perform – never had her very proper husband ever named a female undergarment, let alone issue orders around it. Despite her shock, fear and hesitation, she felt a strange mixture of gratitude and revulsion as her husband guided her through her task. The less delicate language remained shocking as were his expectations, but somehow, the explicit instructions allowed the modest young wife to comply:
‘You will unbutton her drawers and loosen the drawstring’

Suzannah had only later realised her husband’s detailed knowledge and familiarity with such garments. He had, after all, never loosened her garments – a task for her maid or occasionally, herself only. She had realised with further blushes that his passion for a disciplined household had provided him with an unusual knowledge of his serving maids’ underpinnings.
As Lady Suzannah’s nervous and unpractised fingers struggled with the buttons and strings, she heard her next set of instructions, once more shocked at Lord strap’s earthy and shocking vocabulary:

‘The drawers must be lowered to reveal the whole of her naughty, disobedient bottom. I particularly require access to her lower regions, where I intend to make her flesh sing. By pulling the drawstring, Suzannah, you may tie off her drawers below this area to leave her bottom bare for my attentions, but provide her with some undeserved modesty as I do not intend slapping her thighs for this particular infringement….That’s right…Just there…Just pull the strings, Suzannah and tie them together.’

As she had complied in a shocked daze, worse was to follow:

I haven't! Not really and not for ages anyway. I've written lots in the past, but being mostly unpublished is frustrating. I am going to self-publish a book of spanking stories soon and done the editing and prep.

I thought it would be a good idea to write some stuff, just to get my hand back in (so to speak!) I have several stories on the go that have not been touched in so long, I forgot where I was with them. I used to write one story at a time, (did two books' worth this way)but then started writing down stuff so I wouldn't forget. Some are just titles to act as triggers. Some are a few paras and some half-written. I checked on one and it was merely a title (I said it's been a while!), another I knew I'd started was actually nearly 9,000 words.

It's vaguely Victorian, but underwear is based on fond memories of Western saloon girls in films seen on TV and my fantasy of Victorian dress. All very corny - She is about to be punished by her husband for risking her safety and is thinking back over recent limited experience of corporal punishment of the maid and herself by him. I loved rereading it and wrote a few hundred words - I'd left it mid-caning! Caning is now over and she's distraught, but he is having lascivious thoughts and I'm not sure whether she's going to get a cuddle before she gets the Victorian equivalent of a good bonking which they will both enjoy

I shall post an extract...

There was an interesting piece in Observer magazine about a murder with what is called in article 'S&M' connection:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/theobserver/2008/apr/13/1

There is clear implication that the masochist was an unlikely one because he was squeamish and that it was about self hatred.

Without Stuart or Charlotte's knowledge, Rod had for some time been advertising on an S&M website that he was looking to be someone's 'slave'. If they had known what he was doing, they would both have been surprised. Rod had been mildly curious about S&M when he was with Stuart - nothing more than what Stuart called 'schoolboy stuff' - but Stuart wasn't interested and Rod hadn't pressed it. Not even after they split up did Stuart ever see marks or bruises on Rod's body.

Rod was an unlikely devotee of S&M. He was squeamish. The sight of blood made him queasy. He couldn't even look at a broken fingernail, and Stuart was later convinced that Rod's attraction towards masochism was rooted in self-hatred. He was sure that Rod saw his separation from Stuart as a deep rejection. Rod had been abandoned and he was lonely and now he was punishing himself. The self-hatred, thought Stuart, was all mixed up with Rod's upbringing, in particular his relationship with his father. He had constantly sought approbation from his father, but he felt that he never received it.

It is possible he did hate himself, but from my reading, he was more like a sexualised kid in a sweetie shop who'd been interested in BDSM, but not had desire filled before. His interest in young men and BDSM may have been self-loathing, pleasurable fun or anything between if not a mix of both ends of the spectrum.
Whatever the trigger, he had a curiosity and interest. And people into BDSM are as mixed a bag as any. While not squeamish, I am a bit of a coward about pain avoiding dentists and injections where possible. I suspect I'm not alone in having masochistic/submissive fantasies and desires but being wary of pain. My fear of pain was a barrier to exploration (among other barriers!)but fascination and curiosity got the better of me and reality is rather wonderful.
Sadly for Rod Hall, he became the victim of a most violent and horrific murder. he absolutely did not deserve to die, but he took enormous risks with somebody who showed signs of being seriously unsafe. It is very sad, but is not typical of those who choose to explore BDSM fantasies.

I've been neglecting my blog. I think it is because I'm not feeling very inspired at the moment. I have been quite active on various message boards and wondered why. I suspect it's because MBs are reactive and here I have to be proactive. I like the fact that a blog is one's own, but perhaps it's lack of inspiration that has led to this inactivity.

I have been doing something though. I've put together a collection of spanking stories for self-publishing, so been quite busy with editing, sorting etc.

Meanwhile, here's a distraction:
http://www.talisman.org/quizzes/robin-hood-morality.shtml