But there was no way out now. Backing out was not an option. I held my breath as I waited for him to pass sentence. Mr Chancellor looked slightly bemused. Anyone would think you were deliberately provoking me. Were you trying to get expelled? So I suggest you make good use of your time away. Reflect on your actions and their consequences and see if you can get back in my good books when you return.
I was shell-shocked. And my parents would hear all about it. Not the imagined caning, six strokes of agony and no one the wiser. I winced at the memory. I still thought about Mr Chancellor from time to time, wondering if he was still at Ravenscroft. There would be no question of ethics or professional misconduct; we were no longer teacher and pupil.
This time he could cane me without fear of the consequences. Or would he see it as a vulgar seduction attempt? I was confident enough about my looks. I had a willowy frame with long athletic legs and small breasts. I had wide brown eyes and soft full lips. These feminine features were offset by the short pageboy cut of my gingery brown hair. I knew how to dress to flatter my grown-up charms, but I had a penchant for girlish tartan skirts.
An independent uniform fetish, I suspect. I rarely wore anything else. When people asked, I simply shrugged and confided that it made me feel more studious. They laughed it off as a charming eccentricity. They had no idea. But, though I fantasised about it often, I never got up the courage to go back to Ravenscroft. And as the years passed, the preoccupation lost its urgency. Victorian England was alive with deviant undertones. The sexual repression coupled with the harsh discipline of the period created an ideal environment for fetishes to flourish.
But the obsession with corporal punishment went beyond overt pornography. There were accounts of the birching of young ladies by schoolmistresses. Floggings in monasteries and nunneries. Whippings administered by strict governesses. Discussions of whether it was decent for gentlemen to whip girls, ladies to whip boys.
The disciplinary merits of such chastisement.
And on and on. But the most enticing aspect was the fact that these detailed letters were to be found sprinkled amongst the commonplace crises of etiquette. The moral implications of kissing before marriage. How to break off a tender acquaintanceship. Where one may purchase birch rods for the chastisement of unruly daughters. Ah, the glorious hypocrisy of Victorian sexuality. The lengths to which they went to repress their urges. They staunchly refused to acknowledge that there was anything inherently erotic underlying their obsession with corporal punishment.
Heavens, no — that would be perverse! Many of the letters were obvious hoaxes, pornography masquerading as morality. Some of them purported to condemn the practice of corporal punishment. The moral outrage only lent further credence to the discourse, however. She describes the system pursued in one near Edinburgh, where the terms are guineas per annum.
There is a graduated scale of punishments, the highest of which is corporal. When an offence of sufficient magnitude takes place, the culprit enters it in the book herself, and carries the report to the lady superintendent, who writes under it the amount of punishment.
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For the first offence, the delinquent is prepared for punishment, but generally pardoned. For the second, she is whipped privately. The system is as follows: 1st. She proceeds to the housekeeper, to procure the rod, a leathern thong. She pays 2d. She has then to be partly undressed by the maid, and this costs 2d.
The culprit has then to walk barefooted to another part of the house, to be robed for punishment, a peculiar dress being used, to add to the disgrace. It is a long linen blouse, short cotton socks, and list slippers, all of which each offender has to provide for herself. The young lady, thus costumed, now proceeds to the drawing-room, to be exhibited to the lady superintendent. Having been approved, she is then conducted to the schoolroom, when she has to pay 6d.
A wooden horse, covered with soft leather, is the medium of castigation. The delinquent subsequently thanks the governess! The young ladies are in other respects tenderly dealt with. Even the horse has a soft cushion. The letter had the same effect on me as on my predecessors. The extravagant ritual was a form of protracted foreplay and the detached mannerly voice only heightened its eroticism.
It was all perfectly proper and above board. And all in the name of old-fashioned English discipline. Dr Morrison was a humourless, asexual pedagogue who was oblivious to my personal interest in the subject. My academic life was steeped in erotica, but my reality remained steadfastly bland and boring.
At twenty-four, I was getting desperate for sympathetic company. But none of the guys I went out with could measure up to my fantasy of Mr Chancellor. They completely missed the hints I dropped. They had to be the ones to initiate it. I had no trouble attracting vanilla boys; the trick was finding the kinky ones.
There was the Net, of course. There were strict regulations about that. If I were caught, the humiliation would be too much to handle. Then again, perhaps it would be worth it. There was a wealth of material about the spanking fetish — so much that I could never hope to read it all. But I tried. Naturally, the Victorian offerings were my favourites. I was fascinated by the harsh class division and the wicked things the upper classes could do to the lower.
Power was hot, but power abused … well, that was something very special indeed. I had no option but to submit to his touch as well as his correction. It was that or be cast out on to the streets. No responsibility. No guilt. Frank must continue being a boy, unaware that her guardian knows full well she is a girl. Of course, there is nothing more traditional, more quintessentially English, than the cane. A short sharp shock. Skirt up, knickers down. But, even more than the implement, it was the ritual that obsessed me.
There were prescribed conventions that I saw played out compulsively in both my fantasies and the stories I read. The English had made an art of discipline. The exquisite embarrassment of being treated like a child, my clothing adjusted just enough to expose my bottom for smacking. He would bring his palm down on my pale cheeks, turning them pink and red while I kicked and squirmed over his lap. Perhaps then he would move on to the hairbrush, the most domestic implement of all.
The polished ebony would elicit cries of pain and promises of better behaviour from me. I sighed and flipped through my notebook. The possibility that there could be someone out there who wanted to spank me as much as I wanted to be spanked was driving me to distraction. Perhaps I could justify visiting spanking websites and chat rooms as part of my research. Frustrated and torn, I returned to the comfort of the dictionary. I could always rely on its clinical descriptions for a little fix.
I pictured the embarrassment and dread of having to cut switches and bind them together to make my own birch rod. Presenting it to my disciplinarian and asking to be punished. Sometimes I liked to fantasise about being a boy. I wondered how I would look in short trousers and a schoolboy cap. Or an Eton suit. There was no shortage of corporal punishment accounts about the elite public school. I gasped and slammed the dictionary shut, startling several students near by. They raised their heads and looked at me reproachfully before returning to their studies. It was a curious little book, written in the late s by the Reverend William M.
Cooper, BA. Subtitled Flagellation and the Flagellants , the cover displayed an embossed gold-leaf etching of the Eton birching block, complete with birch rod. The spine bore etchings of other instruments of correction. Not a masterpiece of subtlety, but a potent wellspring for those in the know. I tried to act nonchalant, but I could see her puzzled expression. She must have wondered what all the fuss was about — why two people were fighting over it, recalling it back and forth. She raised her eyebrows, as though waiting for me to let her in on the joke.
It was an odd but alluring little game of cat and mouse. But I did want to know who else was borrowing it. He — and I was convinced it was a man — had to be a kindred spirit. My skin felt chilled as my tremulous fingers crept down to the hem of my kilt. I hesitated, glancing up at him with pleading eyes. I was the one who had started this. I was the one who kept recalling A History of the Rod so that he had to do the same. It was like a possessive game between children. So, when he recalled the book again, as I knew he would, I returned it.
Then I staked out the circulation desk, waiting for him to come in and reclaim it. I wondered who he could be. Did I know him? If not, would I recognise him as a fellow pervert? Would it be obvious? All my life I had felt like the last of my kind.egidirisykol.tk
Over the Knee (Nexus Enthusiast)
I assumed they had all died out after the golden age of Victorian prudery. This Kickstarter is how we're going to be able to work full-time on this game without having to take commissioned work to support ourselves. It's how we overcome all of the delays involved in stopping production because of day jobs and monetary obligations. By donating, you're not just funding the game; you're actually helping to free its creators from the kinds of distractions that would definitely hurt the final product!
Every dollar has been accounted for, from the upgrades our computers need to properly build this game, to promotional cards and space at conventions. We have licenses we need to buy for the software to make this game, the fees charged by Kickstarter and Amazon for every donation, and Uncle Sam taking his cut. Most importantly, we gotta eat! Looks like it's ramen noodles and tap water for us for the next few months. Hank : A psychopathic mercenary gunman on a take-no-prisoners mission to wipe out an all-powerful Agency Hank is the primary anti-hero of the series.
The Savior : A magically-augmented telekenetic weapons master who has chosen to adopt the image of a certain two-thousand-year-old messiah. Tricky : The zombified remains of a psychopathic assassin clown. Sanford and Deimos : Gadget-brandishing and meathook-wielding extraction team duo, who work closely with Hank but whose loyalties are not fully known. At 1, Backers I'll draw hank as an Abstract Cubist portrait. This game begins where Project Nexus 1 left off though no knowledge of the prequel will be necessary to fully enjoy the Project Nexus 2 experience.
Players will wander from the outskirts of the never-ending wastelands battling bandits and cannibalistic raiders, infiltrate a corrupt metropolis known as Zed City, and take on the Nexus Core directly in a sidescrolling open-world combat and exploration game. While many missions will be reliant on planning out how you'd like to invade enemy camps and bases, you'll not always know what's coming next.
Agency hit-squads, hunting raider parties, and the inveitable swarm of hungry undead are also looking for you as you duck between alleyways and push ever forward toward the heart of Project Nexus. You begin with a blank palette. Your new character, grey and lifeless as any Grunt in the Madness world. He or she is not very skilled. In fact, they can barely stand against a stiff breeze, let alone a battle-hardened opponent. The Employers, however, do not care about your cherubic amateurity, and being shown mercy is not in your contract. You are destined to possess such great skill and strength that you're prepared to die just to learn to wield it.
And die you will. Many times. Death does not nullify your contract. But destroying the Nexus Core In Arena Mode , players will build the kind of Madness combatant they've always dreamed of by picking from an ever-expanding tree of skills and abilities gained through surviving wave after wave of baddies. Want a gunslinger of legendary proportions? Go for it.
Stealth ninja with a penchant for pistol-and-katana kills? You got it.
Over the Knee - Fiona Locke - Google книги
C-4 and trap-laying expert? We dare you not to enjoy making enemies go boom. Once you've reached a certain pinnacle of excellence, you'll have the option of branching off into one of many Legendary skill trees. From telekinesis and flight to time-slowing battle sense and unbelievably huge size, you'll have at your disposal the power to make your character truly and unsurpassably unique.
These are powers the likes of which only the true heroes and villains of Nevada may possess. Will you be one of them? The open world zombie horror campaign we've always wanted to play. So many games have tried this before, and a good deal of them have excelled in one or two major areas. Imagine the suspense and distrust you feel between encounters while exploring the world of Day-Z. Remember that thrill of finding a new stockpile of goods and weapons in Infinity Mode of Dead Rising.
Picture your character going from pathetic to powerful in Dead Island. Feel the blend of adventure and dread you got from Organ Trail. And conjure the heart-thumping panic and excitement of being overwhelmed in the Zombies mode of CoD. We want all of those feelings to blend from one to the next in a single game. And we want it to be roguelike, randomized, and a new adventure every time you play. Too much to ask for? We truly believe that it is not. The original was a Flash game that premiered on Newgrounds. It did extremely well by Flash standards, pulling in over 8.
Compare that to the 3. We did it! Your votes have brought Project Nexus 2 to Steam! Team Madness wants to make your support worth it! YOU are the reason this game has a chance at life. Let us do something for you in return. If you have any questions on the rewards we're offering, send us a message and we'll explain anything you like in full detail. It's no problem! To all of our backers: you're bringing attention to our game just by being here and making even the minimum pledge.
Thank you for helping to bring our game into the world! The full version of the game. When it is complete, you'll receive a key to redeem for your DRM-free copy of the game, including all final content and game modes assured by our Stretch Goals, as well as beta and early access! A handful of buttons and stickers featuring Madness Combat and Project Nexus 2 artwork, splash images, and so forth.
We can't wait to go crazy with zany sticker and button art for you guys after the campaign is over! The complete Madness: Project Nexus 2 soundtrack in digital format, featuring music by long-time Madness series composer Sean "Cheshyre" Hodges, as well as newcomer Devin Martin, the caesar of Dubstep. We're lucky to have them on board, and even luckier to be able to share the game's music with our backers! A calligraphed letter from Krinkels and Swain, right to your doorstep.
There will be no mass printing or generic thank-you notes here - every letter will be a unique, handwritten message on high-quality stationary, made to look gritty like it's survived more than one gunfight. Who knows, maybe pirates got hold of it or something? We'll let you make that judgment call. Concerned that we might not have that one sword you saw in that one movie that one time? Think your Arena Mode character would be incomplete without that one haircut that one dude has in that one manga?
Hoping you'll get to theme a gang of dudes that you just can't WAIT to punch in the face? Backers who receive this reward get to dictate an exact thing they'd like to see in the game Nexus Enthusiast publishes convincing and exciting literature, written by the devotee of a single fetish for the large number of enthusiasts of that same kink, the auth This is the life story of a girl addicted to the sensual pleasures of spanking. Get A Copy. Paperback , pages. Published November 9th by Nexus Enthusiast first published January 15th More Details Original Title.
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