16 to 24

Once again the question that was always in my mind, at least for my younger years is “Am I the only one?”

Along with the obvious “Am I abnormal, strange a weirdo, a freak, oddball, mentally subnormal. Why do I like being spanked? And why especially with a ladies slipper.

I think society today is a lot more tolerant, well at least it claims to be that is was on the 1970s. I do remember half admitting a lot of things to the punks and even some of the teachers at school. Like by the time I was in my last year at school I would suggest to the female (not the male) staff that they should put me over a table and thrash me. Of course this was now the 80s and they never did, some were a little embarrassed by it.

On leaving school I am now outside in the real world. I suppose this is when the learning curbs really begun, because to say I was confused would be an understatement. This confused learning curb was to last many years and it would be fair to say up until my 30s.

Sex wise what I knew you could write on a stamp, with the females I would run the opposite direction if they even started to show interest. Suffice to say you could say I was more than a little bit unconfident.

I was sixteen and I wasn’t thinking of being females of my own age. I was still fantasising about being spanked by women who were at their tea time stages in life. It was plainly obvious that this little fetish of mine was firmly cemented in and was never going to leave me. In a lot of ways I withdrew into myself and my ambitions of wanting to become a pop star. Without a doubt I was defiantly living in cloud cuckoo land. I had never been one to mix with too many people, I had always been insular and I had always tried to be my own person.

Please trust me when I say I am not complaining about this because eventually this all paid off and I didn’t have a terrible terrible time of things. However I didn’t have it easy either.

It was at this time that I discovered the top shelf magazine. The first one I ever bought was “Spanking Letters” which cost £3 and back then when you only had £25 a week Youth Training Scheme allowance was very expensive.

With the top shelf magazines I learned very quickly to purchase them from Indian shops because the Indians seemed much more discreet than the English. The Indian shops would discreetly put the magazine in a bag for you take your money and that was it, transaction over. The English people however would want to stand there and have a conversation with you which would be embarrassing.

Also at this stage I started to discover shops in London that catered for this type of thing one being “love joys” (no relation to the TV program) and another called Janus which I seriously have respect for.

Janus the shop in Compton Street Soho must have been open since the early 70s and is still open today. The never seemed to have a problem with you going in the shop and browsing through the mags before you bought, so longs as you did buy.

I think to a degree some of the people in the shop did eventually begun to recognise me because at the time I was so young.

At the age of 18 I visited my first dominatrix and was Slippered for the first time in say 4 years. This wasn’t exactly the most memorable occasion. God bless the woman who did it but she wasn’t exactly mature. Its just a case of the money was there so I thought why not.

Around this time also a couple had answered a contact I had placed in a magazine seeking a strict aunty. Like I have already said I was very naive back then and this was to be first time I had ever had sexual intercourse properly.

On reflection I took a serious risk because her husband was a bouncer in a Wigan night club and I never was 100% sure of his intentions. He was also built like a brick shit house and scared the living daylights out of me. Having said this they were both very accommodating to me and naturally I did get my backside tanned by Aunty Rita. I was to see Aunty Rita at least four times. Once when I went to Wigan, the other times she came down Richmond and we stayed in bed and breakfast.

After this experience I did start to become a little more confident with women though not as confident as I probably should have been. Also the fact remained if I dared mention any of this spanking lark they would run a mile. I don’t think this was because it was so wrong to have a spanking fetish it was more the fear of the unknown and how society perceive people like us. At times I did take the risk and I did let partners know. However there were a few occasion where this out of spite and much to my embarrassment was spread about the town where I use to drink.

It was about at the age of 24 I started to realise that I was not the only one, however at that time my youth had faded. I can’t sit here and say I had a wasted youth because I didn’t however some aspects made it very difficult to feel like the rest. I had a lot of guilty feelings not only for being into the spanking thing, but for also being into things like punk rock.

About this time I got in trouble with the police which came close to prison I also started a relationship with smoking weed as a form of escapism

Second Visit to Aunt Jennifer 1998

Ill try and Keep this one short .
Like I already said on a previous posting my first trip to Aunt Jennifer was back in 1996. This was the visit that changed my life and was probably was one of the best £80 s I have every spent in my life. I felt at the time afterwards that the experience had been so enlightening that it would be very easy for me to obsessed with Aunt Jennifer. For most of the time on the fetish/spanking scene I have always played the long term game,Thus I did not visit Aunt Jennifer till 2 years later in 1998.
This time was a little different as I was beggining to establish and draw attention to myself on the fringes of the London Fetish Scene.
I remember this day was lovely as I cycled there from Kingston Surrey to Brighton.
So here of some of the photos of that day. I do hope to being editing some of the video footage and placing it on Spanking Tube.

Explaining A Slipper Fetish

Explaining a slipper Fetish

On a previous posting that I made about the slipper as an implement
of chastisement there might have been a few aspects that I over
looked. After having a few conversations recently both in chatrooms
and real time I would like the chance to explain further why the
slipper does it for me personally. Under no circumstances do I expect
all people to be able to relate to this; in all honesty I expect very
few people will.
As a youngster I found myself a lot of the time over someone's lap
having my bottom smacked with a slipper (most of the time playfully).
I always had a preference to the female slipper which back in the 70s
would normally be fully enclosed, colourful, maybe a pattern design,
possibly with fur round it.
As well as having my bottom smacked it would be the fact that I was
over the knee, which I have always found a comfortable loving
position. There was also the fact that whilst over the knee I would
be able to see one slipper on the foot of the person administering
the spanking and the other foot would of course be slipper less.
To a lot of people this might sound very weird, and yes I have had
the piss ripped out of me for admitting this publicly. However this
is the truth!!!

ST Thrashmores June 20th Chats Palace 2003

"ST. Thrashmores , End of term Bash" successfully took place "Friday
20th June". It is not my place to review events that I have been
involved in, however I would like to personally say a massive thank
you to the following people.
The teachers who held the lesson "Prefect Spider" an English lesson
that the pupils will never forget, well at least they certainly wont
forget certain words. "Zac the guvnor city broker" for a maths lesson
on loss and profit (can I have private lessons please). Mistress Ego
for a biology lesson with practical demonstrations that caused much
pain to many a backside and other parts of the body. Mistress
Absolute who also helped caused much discomfort to the backsides of
the naughtiest pupils as well as ramming my gob full off toffees in
order to shut me up. "Mistress Bergutte" Thank you very much for
being there. I'm only sorry that due to the fact that you were not
feeling too well that you were unable to take your German lesson. As
always you looked fantastic and took much trouble to dress in
accordance to the event. Thanks to "Robert" the
senile "ST.Thrashmores" school guvnor for your speech at the
beginning of the evening.
Thank you to "Ishmael Skyes" who not only supplied the desks whipping
benches and boxing ring but actually run the Boxing ring and supplied
much entertainment through out the evening.
On the subject of Ishmael Skyes I have worked alongside this guy for
the best part of 5 years, helping to stage various fetish events.
Recently he has come up for much unnecessary flak from certain
unknown/known and cowardly quarters. For someone who has given his
best to the scene for the past 15 years, shown much courage in the
face of adversity, and contributed to make the scene better for
everyone this type of flak is totally not on and never in a million
years will be.
Thank you to all those who took part in the slippering competition.
There were a couple that came down to the gig that we would have
liked to award the first prize too. We would like you to know you
came a very good second best and we owe you a drink. However there
has to be a winner and "Mistress Absolute" managed to cause the
reddest backside to her culprit and thus won "The Golden Slipper".
Well-done Mistress Absolute.
Mouse you're a character. Thank you for helping with the catering,
cloakroom, and just joining in as and when necessary. Thanks a lot to
bob "Standstead Fetish Accommodation" for doing the doors. A massive
thank you to Fable you have helped so much in so many ways. Thank you
to my partner in crime "Princess Spider" who I co organised "ST.
Thrashmores with
Thank you to the staff of Chats Palace, the "sound engineer" for his
part in setting up the lighting rigs and ensuring the disco and bands
performance went unhitched. "The Bar staff" that kept the alcoholic
beverages flowing as well as the Showaddywaddy & Rubbettes C.D.s
churning. "DJ Baby love" who didn't play Showaddywaddy & Rubbettes
records but played a funky set that got people dancing. "Zac" who
played her set of 80S AND 70S .The school punk band "NOISY BUGGERS
FROM MARS" who played the loudest set Chats Palace has ever known,
I'm actually surprised they've even got a p.a. system left.
Above all I thank the people who came to the event, you are all very
important. I particularly have admiration for the people who turned
up who have never been to an event such as this before. I know how
nerve racking it is to be a newcomer to anything, let alone something
as diverse as the Fetish / School / Spanking, what ever you want to
call it scene. I really hope I am not sounding patronising when I say
this and if I do I apologise in advance . My message is that to any
new comer who comes to a real time event for the first time don't
ever under estimate your own personal value , but at the same time
take things at a steady pace.I am grateful that there was no trouble
at "ST. Thrashmore" on Friday , and although one person had to be
given a little talking too no one had to be removed.
We are now going to chill out for the next few weeks , we will let
you know whats happening soon.
Take Care
Freddie

24

Lets start at the beginning - we got there around 8.30 and were
greeted by school monitors, Fable and Ish. We went through to the
bar, which also contained the boxing ring, and relaxed with a drink
and pleasant conversation with fellow perverts. Chats Palace, the
perfect venue for a school-themed event, would also work well for
more conventional play-orientated events, with the added benefit of
very cheap bar prices!

I was, at this point, being very well behaved, just sitting there
relaxing and being polite when suddenly, Prefect Spider, possibly
acting on a tip off from Mistress Vamp, dragged me out of my chair
and sent me off to class.

The examination hall had a stage and everything just like at my old
school, St Simians. I took my seat in the front row next to Zip, who
somehow escaped punishment for not being in school uniform - he was
in a nun's habit. Now in hindsight, the only exact science, my choice
of seat was a mistake. Zip was playing up, which in made me snigger,
which in turn resulted in the first caning of this class - bloody
typical. But it was great fun and a "scene" unlike anything I've ever
seen or been involved with at a club. For those into roleplay and
fun, this was splendid. Mistress Vamp enjoyed keeping an eye on me as
the evil exam monitor femdom bitch from Hell, (well Liverpool, City
of Kultur actually). But I survived and was eventually allowed back
into the bar.

Now was the time for the event I'd been trying to hype over the past
week via the LFS messageboards and harassing strangers in the
street. `Mistress Vamp versus Monkey' in a fetish kickboxing match.
As I was getting changed in the toilet, it reminded me of my days
fighting in dodgy Manchester tournaments. I got a little bit
nostalgic at this point and decided to warm up and everything. This
was a bit pointless as the fight was only 3 rounds of 2 minutes and
Mistress Vamp kicked my ass, which although planned, was more severe
than expected. I think my excuse for losing is that we were following
kicking and punching regulations and I was unable to fully utilise
Muay-Thai grappling and knee use, which had traditionally helped me
win. She is keen to get in the ring again which worries me,
particularly as after my defeat, I was made to fight again, this time
using hands only.

After the bout, Mistress Vamp changed out of school uniform into her
half rubber teacher look as another class was taking place. I managed
to observe it from the sidelines, despite Mistress Absolute
questioning why I wasn't in class. Not only did I manage to bunk the
class, I also managed to throw paper aeroplanes, including a direct
hit on Zip! I might also have written some things on the board, but I
got away with it…..Textbook Alan Partridge! But naughty as Mistress
Vamp would say and indeed said, ensuring I got a taste of her riding
crop!

After this things got confusing. The band, Antenna played, there was
a slippering contest and more spanking than I've seen in a long time.
This was very much a play rather than pose event, despite my
presence. If you missed it, try and make sure you come to the next
one.

The next fetish boxing or kickboxing events are likely to be Firm
related or organised. Check out www.the-firm.org for further details,
I think Shakedown is the next boxing bonanza. Also keep an eye on
Princess Spider's website for footage of my noble defeat,
www.pricessspider.com

Well done to Spider, Ish, Freddie and everyone who made this unique
event what it was. I don't know when the next St. Thrasmores will
take place, but when it does I'll be sure to be there, even if
Mistress Vamp doesn't force me to go.

My First Visit to Aunt Jennifer 1996

My First Visit to Aunt Jennifer
February 1996

I first came across Aunt Jennifer, or at least an advertisement of
Aunt Jennifer in 1992 in the contact section of the magazine forum.
To me at the time the service this lady was offering was something
completely different to what her counter parts were offering, with
all their whips chain willy crushers and empty promises of a good
time. I guess you could say for want of a better expression she was
right up my street and without a doubt looked like the genuine
article that I had been seeking for many years However after writing
to her she wrote back and informed me that she did not normally deal
with my age group but she told me her fee for an hour was £60 (sod
that that's two weeks giros) and she could sell me a video for £30 or
two for £50 (Believe it or not that was reasonable back then you can
get them for a tenner these days).
It was going to take me a couple of years (well four actually) before
I made contact with her again. I did however listen to her answer
phone message more than a few times, (pervert I am) though I promise
I never gave her obscene phone calls. Back in those days, before I
came out, which I could possibly term as the bad old days, but I wont
because it was a learning curb, it was all contact mags, 0898 numbers
(Sorry mum about the phone bill), a few girlfriends who run the one
minute mile if you even mentioned spanking, and old men playing the
part of strict uncle, (but that's another story).
I contacted Aunt Jennifer again towards the end of 1995 and I
was really surprised by the effort she made in her replying to the
letter. It wasn't the normal run of the mill scrap piece of paper
that I had received from so many so called professionals with the
normal scribble boob measurements and fee. It was a letter laying out
exactly the service she gave and exactly what I was to expect to the
letter if I dared visit her. Shortly after receiving the letter I
made a phone call to her and ordered a video (They hadn't increased
in price at all) which had her spanking her long suffering secretary
Peterkins for having a bad school report and wearing Matrons knickers
(Original). I phoned her again, talked for hours, (As you do)
And thus arranged a visit.
At this time I was very new and was scared of what I was
doing or what I was into. It had come to the crunch, I was in my late
20s and I had had a lifetime's involvement of fantasies surrounding
spanking, but had done little to make things better for myself. This
February day in 1996 was going to change this once and for all.
I spent most of the morning like a tit in a trance wandering
around Brighton more with a worried expression on my face as if I was
just about to visit the dentist to have my wisdom teeth out. At one o
clock I made my way to Salt dean to her house knocked on her door as
you do and was invited in, by this kindly Lady whose name was Aunty
Jennifer.
After stroking the dogs, going to the living room, and
exchanging pleasantries, I gave her a brown envelope with the fee in
it, which had now gone up to £80 (now that's inflation for you 30% in
four years) but it did include a video of my day and believe me that
was more that reasonable. Also in the envelope was a note saying
please take it easy do not kill here and me's the address of my next
to kin in case of any accidents. Aunty Jennifer decided in all her
wisdom as an Aunt, and with great embarrassment on my behalf to read
the letter out allowed, correct the spelling mistakes, and sling the
four twenty pound notes on the table which remained there throughout
my stay. I was now beginning to feel a little bit more at ease with
her knowing that she was a head case as well thus we should get on ok.
I did explain to her that I thought she could have read the
note a little more discreetly. Then again who was I to argue, after
all one should remember their place, especially if they're just about
to get walloped?
That day I took with me two pairs of slipper. In those days
dommes didn't seem to keep slipper, which I thought under the
circumstance was pretty ridiculous but there you go. Ok for all you
slipper fetish bods out there one pair was a size 10 pair of blokes
slippers with leather sole, chosen purely for the fact that they
didn't hurt and the other pair was a maroon pair of felt ladies
slippers which were size 8 rubber soled with the white under laying
which by the way did hurt. I also had a dodgy pair of blue pyjamas
which I think she commented on them looking crap.
Without further a do and with me trying to stop myself from
creasing up laughing we began. She started of with the scenario of me
stealing money out of grandmothers purse (god that aint been done
before now has it?). And I was duly laid across her lap and had my
backside tanned with the sole of the leather slipper. I have actually
still got the video of this but im writing this out of memory. She
continued to pound my backside with this slipper and soon realised it
was not having any effect. (Well I wasn't complaining) but hey I
might as well go through with all of this so she took of one of the
other slippers, which she had been wearing since I bought them there.
She also decided to remove my pyjamas bottoms and under pants on
which she made a comment that I was wearing black underpants to hide
the skid marks (Well I wasn't going to wear white y fronts now was
I?). After a few more cutting remarks designed to leave me with an
inferiority complex she began to spank me in earnest. I think this
might have been possibly the hardest spanking I had ever had bearing
in mind that everything I had done, as a child regarding spanking
games was always playful. I literally wriggled all over her lap and
how the hell she managed to support me god knows. One thing for sure
I was left in no doubt that Aunty Jennifer knew what she was doing,
make no mistake about it. I was there for about an hour and a half
that day, some of the time we spent talking and I was the most
relaxed I had ever been with anyone for a hell of a long time.
On leaving her house that day I felt so happy that I had at last gone
through with it. There is no doubt whatever that that day I probably
took the hardest whacking that I had ever taken. But the feeling I
felt coming home to my shit bed-sit was equivalent to taking an
ecstasy tablet (not that I advise taking them) but with out the side
effect. Like there are no

two ways about it this day changed things
for me for the better and Im grateful. There was more to come.

.

My First Adult School Experience 1996

My First Dungeon & Adult School Experience

My visit to Aunt Jennifer had left my imagination running
riot. It was now coming to the stage where it wasn't so much I wanted
to be a part of the fetish scene it was more the case of I was in my
very late twenties and I needed to be part of the fetish scene. It
was if it was coming to the stage where nothing else mattered anymore
as I felt at the time I had been through too much personal shit. I
had completely failed in my attempts at living what most people would
term as the normal life or the life I had or we all have been
conditioned to lead. Settle down, have children, buy a house you cant
afford, owe the bank thousands, H.P. on a car, get divorced, pay
maintenance, back to bed shit land, work for sweet far. , Keep your
allotment clean, stand up for the national anthem, and by the way
your nearly thirty years old now isn't it about time you grew up. For
fuck sake I dreaded reaching thirty from the moment I was twenty-
five. I have always failed to see how you can be so young at nineteen
yet at twenty nice be told your past it. What happens when your forty
or fifty do you just quit enjoying your life? Or do you become a
responsible adult.
At this time I was beginning to suss out where I was going
with it all, or to the degree that I would want it sussed. It wasn't
just about the spanking anymore. Ok that played a key element that
goes without saying but there were other elements just as important
and if not for the immediate future a hell of a lot more important.
I had for a number of years been making contact with various
males through advertisements and those wonderful (lets rip anyone off
who is different and make them feel more inferior than they already
do) 0898 numbers. I will add the majority of these men were
homosexual. I have for a since my early twenties questioned my own
sexuality as for a long time I was being spanked by these men,
however that is another story.
Most of the time I just needed to talk to people, as I was
alone in my thoughts about it all. I rung up this guy who came from
up north somewhere and started to have some form of phone
relationship with him and just talked. It was quite apparent that the
guy in question was not for want of a better expression and almost
defiantly through no fault of his own fairly socially inadequate, but
it mattered nothing. I talked to him about my recent visit to Aunt
Jennifer and he seemed to get fairly keen over the phone to grab
every detail he could out of me
After a few phone calls he told me about an adult school that he
went to in Leeds run by a gentleman who owned a dungeon and a school
room and he invited me to come down. He told me that there would be a
real schoolmistress of the professional dominatrix type, a T.V.
Schoolmistress, a T.V. schoolgirl, and he would be a T.V. schoolgirl
hence making me the only school boy there. I did wonder to myself
whether he was actually winding me up because lets face it, it
wouldn't be the first time someone has actually told you about
something happening and made it sound better than it actually is.
Although I was possibly taking a risk by actually going I didn't
really hesitate in saying yes. So about a week later up I went to
Leeds.
I arrived at the coach station and was taken to this terraced house
which looked like something from the set of Coronation Street
somewhere in Leeds by this guy whose name I cant remember. On arrival
to the house, low and behold, guess what? No one was bloody well in.
I started to question this guy who had bought me here if this was
actually a wind up, and if so could he please tell me now, so I could
fuci off on the next coach home. He started to promise me it wasn't a
wind up but after travelling 200 miles he did not sound very
convincing. I wasn't going to come this far for nothing so I decided
to stick it out. On reflection I am very glad I did hang around
because this school actually happened and god bless this guy
everything he said was true.
It came to about 9pm that night when finally someone let us into the
house and my mind was finally put to rest that this school might
actually take place. We were let in by a man nearing retirement that
I learned was going to be the T.V. schoolmistress. He took us both to
the living room where the mistress of the house was sitting. Back
then I hadn't really had a lot of contact with a real mistress, like
I hadn't even been to my first fetish club, so the only mistresses I
had ever seen where either on telly or in a magazine. I gathered by
the accent that she was from Yorkshire, which happened to only be
down the road. I was quite taken a back at how normal she actually
was, short ginger hair, slightly plump standing at about 5f3inch,
fairly attractive without being tarty glamorous. I don't think I
really said that much to any of them, just general politeness, like
put the kettle on you tart.
After having a cup of tea we were taken on a tour to the schoolroom
area, the headmasters office, and the dungeon.
The schoolroom was a fairly smallish to medium room with brick
wallpapers a black board four real school desks and a desk where the
teacher sat. I did notice the cane hanging up in the corner and I
thought to myself there was absolutely no bloody way in the world I
was going to allow anyone to use it on me after all I had bought
slippers with me.
We were then taken to the headmaster's office. Now as far as
headmasters offices went this was a very realistic replica of my old
headmasters office not that I ever had to visit him for a clump. The
Master/ owner of this house really knew his stuff, what impressed me
was the buzzer on the door. It was one of those little electronic
boxes with four buttons that lit up. One said, "Call, the other
said, "Wait", the other, said "Enter" and lastly there was one that
said "Occupied" which meant someone was inside being walloped. The
interior of the office was done in the style of a typical seventies
modern day comprehensive. There was the Headmasters desk and the
cupboards ect. I notice the plimsoll first and was pleased that that
had not been left out as well as this was the array of canes a few
tawses paddles ECT.
Lastly but by no means least the Dungeon, now this was something to
take my breath away.

27

The Dungeon wasn't exactly massive (about 18f x 18f). From what I
remember it was very well equipped and had in my not so expert
opinion been very well thought out considering the lack of any real
play space available. The whips and punishment implements were
plentiful; I remember a Saint David's cross, a bench, a whipping
block (Which I was put in sometime later) and a suspension hook from
the ceiling (Which I was also to be suspended from). The dungeon was
of course like most dungeons painted black (nothing like an a
original colour scheme) and the house Mistress dealt with her clients
from there.
The following morning we all got ready for school and I was
introduced to the other T.V schoolgirl who was in her 70s. I
remember for a few things about the other T.V. school girl such as
him/ her prodding me throughout the whole weekend with words of
wisdom, him her continuingly going on about the war, and him / her
being very much into what Id call one upmanship. Apart from those
little traits a decent enough person he/ she was a little bit like an
old Yorkshire uncle in a gymslip the size of a tent. Suffice to say I
spent most of the weekend avoiding his /hers Cumberland sausage sized
finger prodding me as well as mimicking his / her accent.
The Bell went and my first adult school begun. We all lined up
outside the classroom and waited for the TV schoolmistress to appear.
Once Miss TV Schoolmistress appeared we all neatly filed into the
classroom.
I forget what the first lesson was, what I do remember is how good
and well thought out this actually all was. Miss TV Schoolmistress
really went to some great effort to come across as convincing and she
managed with flying colours. I remember her ticking off the first TV
schoolgirl after she had just been caned and the ticking off reminded
me of a different generation.
I was off course naughty twice during the first lesson, though I've
forgotten what for. I was slippered on both occasions, once by the TV
School Mistress the second time by the headmistress. I remember later
on we did a music exam and I answered Bach to every single question
so that there was a grave possibility that I would get one question
right. But I got them all wrong.
Although this school was good I did sometime in the afternoon tire of
the game and after a bout of constant disruptive behaviour I was sent
to stay with the Headmistress for the afternoon (result).

Weekender July 2003 SM PRIDE MARCH &THE BOAT

Weekender Part 1 The Boat

Certain twinges of excitement going through my body on this Thursday
afternoon before "The Boat". I got to own up to this feeling of Da
Ja Vau of how excited I use to get before such an event . Believe me
when I say not only was "The Boat" an event which stands out big
time; it was the start to a hell fantastic weekend where everyone
appeared to be united.

After splashing out the grand sum of £15 in for 3 new pairs of
women's pyjamas that Thursday afternoon courtesy of Prime mark
Hounslow I think to myself who needs to spend an arm and a leg on
fetish gear.

I take a bath, clean my nashers, clean my Dr Martin paddy sandals
(god they've served me well) kiss my long suffering mother good bye
(a mother in a million, cheers for sponsoring the "ST. Thrashmores
flyers by the way) jump on my vespa (which is a little scratched
after my recent disagreement with a red traffic light, where I came
off second best and found myself temporarily lying in a road in
Sunbury) and head off with my arm still hurting every time I hit a
bump.

I arrive at Swan pier at 8pm(this is obviously if I am not mistaken
where the boat is going to set sail) and I meet up with the usual
suspects who are going to be staffing tonight's proceedings. I'm
informed by someone that we are not going to be able to board the
boat till 830pm which is going to make the get in a little hectic,
but there you go, when "The Firm" run an event, we always seem to
have the knack of gelling together and getting the job done no matter
what is thrown in our faces.

Finally we start to board the boat, and under the guidance of nikki
(the fetish version of Delia) we start on the catering with me
occasionally flying into my Gordon Ramsey impersonations if anyone
touches the food before it has been prepared.

People start to board the boat at 9pm, with the catering done and
without any further hiccups we finally set sail down the Thames. Like
all good things, it takes a while for the proceedings to kick off,
but when things start happening, they start happening big time.

Upstairs I spot a little group of five people huddled together in a
corner who I have not seen in bloody ages. They are "The Adult Baby
Brigade". Its really refreshing to know that im not the only one who
feels this way, I'm even introduced to a couple of new babies on the
block one of who is a little timid (nicknamed Timid Tim), and I think
full respect to him for being there after all coming out and being
ones self isn't always the easiest task in the word.

They're this Great aspect about events such as "The Boat". Being out
and about on the scene you don't see people for yonks and yonks and
even more yonks than yonks . Suddenly you have certain events such
as "The Boat", which only rear there heads once a year (as longs
certain fuckin newspapers don't screw it up ) and hey presto you see
these people again. Like "The Adult Baby Brigade", The Co co
concealing brigade, and

That 60-year-old lady who lives in a shoe,
You don't see her that often but she knows what to do
She comes out on the boat and full respect to her for doing so.

Ok I must stop using that tiresome phase "full respect" but I do
respect these people .

Moving on the 4 redbull and bottle of rum are starting to kick in and
I find myself running about the boat feeling that great feeling one
does when one has been granted permission to be themselves, its like
a gift from god, believe me and full respect to him in the sky for
not giving us nice weather.
I'm informed that there are some 135 bodies on tonight's boat and I
probably know at least 70 of them fairly well, Ill probably know
another 20 within the nest couple of hours, and as for the rest they
will probably know who I am by the end of the night.
I spot a mistress downstairs who appears to have two slaves, one of
which is at her feet and the other who is doing god knows what. I am
invited or ordered to go across her lap for a little bit spanking and
yesssssss 1 hour into the proceedings of tonight's boat and I am
having my first little spanky botty of the night and may I add how
lovely it was too.
Well if nothing else I'm going to be happy now ive had my botty
warmed. Not being one to sit still for two long (blame the red bulls
and rum) I start dashing from one side of the boat to the other
taking in what's going on around me, chatting to fellow deviants
along the way.
Zac as always is doing great justice to the proceedings by playing
some top tunes that we all probably use to listen in are long lost
teenage days. I think to myself (as I do) who wants to return to
there spotty teenage days of bygone years when things like this are
happening now, but there again they bring back some good memories of
actually learning the hard way. By the way Zac you have a great taste
in music. With Zac there's none of this housey housey BOOM BOOM BOOM
type of music she plays real music, like we use to listen to in our
day, with real guitars, and drums, and winging singers.
Whilst the music plays on the whippings, spankings, domination, you
name it it is taking place
Not being one to be a voyeur I Move on and I see sitting in the
corner my partner in crime from Februarys "Detention" PVC Kitty Cat
or if you were fortunate enough to attend "Detention" Miss McCarthy
to you , and if you didn't attend , shame on you and make sure you
come to "ST. Thrashmores" Saturday 13th September. We sit, we hug,
we chat, then I get another spanking. God knows what for this time
but I must have obviously done something to rock the boat (HA HA HA),
as Miss Kitty Cat has a habit of spanking fairly hard and tonight is
no exception.
With my newly acquired red bottom I start dashing about the boat once
more in an ultra childish manner taking care not to upset anyone
along the way, because I have been asked not to. I'm feeling
brilliant now; it's like the comfort of being a toddler again. As we
pass the Dome on our way back I half heatedly join in with a
conversation slagging of Tony Blair knowing full well ill be paying
my tribute to him when we reach the houses of Parliament.
More spanking, more whipping, more this more that, another beer, more
dancing, a chat with the bar staff (They were fantastic), The boat
sails on, and everybody is enjoying themselves which in my little
mind is the way it should be.
We reach London Bridge again, and I wave to mine and everyone else's
friends in a certain much talked about club south of the river. I
stop immediately when at least 40 of the players on the boat make
threats of chucking me overboard , and I think to myself god that
club must be loved.
Finally we reach the houses of parliament. Ok it's no big deal
really, but I always thought it was a tradition to moon that big
Mickey mouse that Guy Fawlkes tried to blow up. So there you go,
alone because everyone else is acting mature I hang my little red
bottom over the railing of the boat and moon "The House or
Parliament". Now what I want to know is whom was the bugger shouting
out "Freddie you fucker fall in the river please " after all I'm not
that bad am I?
Like all good things, once again the boat sails to the pier and has
to end. But the nights not over yet we still have the after party,
which has to be done.

29

SM Pride March 2003

So ok after the boat after party at "The Fringe" I arrive back home
at 7am. Because im Freddie and I wear pyjamas when I go out of an
evening time there is no real need to change for bed. So after
kissing my mum good morning, stroking the dog and cats I crash out.
There was something going on Friday night though ive forgotten what
it was, but what ever was going on I didn't attend because Saturday
was the day of SM PRIDE and in my tiny little estimation that is very
important.
The SM Pride march is something very close to my heart, because the
1997 march which took place a week after "Princess Diana s" funeral
was the first event where I actually first came out in full age
play / Adult baby clobber. I suppose it could have been one of those
days that changed things or the day that I actually started drawing
attention to myself (blame the ADHD) but SM Pride day has always been
a good day and a special day.
I'm not one hundred percent sure of the history of SM Pride (shame on
me) but I am pretty sure its got something to do with a few people
who got slung inside for act of S&M. These act were further made
worse by the fact that these people were quite openly homosexual.
Nowadays the SM Pride march is more a case of marching the streets of
London gobbing off and being proud of who you are and what you do.
((((SOMETHING TO BE ENCORAGED)))).
This year, thankfully, I am not responsible for the catering
for "Pervfest" (so if anyone went down with food poisoning this
weekend don't blame me). However I have agreed to help with the
catering for two reasons. One of these is because I like to do my bit
to help with the cause and two because I am a tight bastard and I
don't want to pay a fiver to get in.
I arrive at Conway hall to see if any help is needed with the
catering (it isn't) and after a talking briefly with Alan and
Bergutte I start walking to Whitehall bashing into a few heroin
addict along the way.
So here we are at Whitehall a small group of perverts / deviants /
what ever it is politically correct to call ourselves these day all
gathered around for I think it was the 11th SM Pride March.
As with all SM Pride marches we are very aware that for the next hour
or so we are going to be central London's tourist attraction. I spot
Sir Guy in his jodhpurs riding boots and crop harnessing Bernice to a
pony cart, Mr rubber man in his designer rubber suit which looks like
something from out of space, the TV school girl from Wales that only
shows her face once a year specially for SM Pride (that deserves
respect), Mistress Sandra ((P.e teacher for "ST. Thrashmores)) who
came second only by a red mark in the slippering competition at the
last ST. Thrashmores (PLUG PLUG) Alistair (Harrow Munch) Eve and
Stephan (Watford Munch) and that's only for starters.
I spot a cab driver who drives up and down the road who seemedly cant
believe his eye (I find that hard to believe as his a London cabbie
but there you go). This inspires me to launch into my London cabbie
impersonation of (GOR BLIMEY GUV, SEE THE STAATE OF THEM, WHAT DO
THEY THINK THEY BLEEDIN LOOK LIKE, f—k ME, DID YOUR MUM LET YOU OUUT
THE OUSE LIKE THAT, FIRST RIGHT ROUND THE ROUNDABOUT, SECOND LEFT). I
also spot Bob the builder and his merry henchmen who are
contemplating on singing that famous old timeless tune "Get your tits
out for the lads". However they decide against it as the Metropolitan
Police force are all lined up on the other side of the road on their
nicely polish BMW Bikes. This really brings me to the conclusion that
I thank god I am not like these people and thus that justifies all
the more reason for marching the streets in my teddy pyjamas drinking
Stella out of a baby's bottle. Bit of a pity my Adult baby friends
have not turned up but there again there risk factor is a little bit
higher than mine as in they all have highly paid jobs and im on the
dole.
Things are now beginning to hot up because now the people who are
going to lead the march are begging to appear. As if out of the blue,
the very decent, well-mannered inoffensive, bleached haired Stimpy
arrives on the scene. He gives me a wave and politely wishes me a
Happy SM Pride day. Now this alone is such a nice thing to say, truly
it is, to me it shows the sort of caring in the scene that is sorely
needed, and I love stimpy to death for saying that to me. While we
are on the subject love, Moria looked fantastic and really happy with
the world. Ishmael who when asking for volunteers to hold the
banners confessed to the fact he could be awkward if nobody
volunteered. Guess what? Nobody did and true to form he picked out
people. Unfortunately as much as I would like to I cant hold the
banners because for one I still have a dodgy arm and two I have just
found an escort to hold my hand on the march (Thank you Miss Child
Psychologist from Sans Francisco).
The Drums start rolling, the whips start cracking, the wheels of the
pony carts go round and round, The police escort stands beside us and
we are off.
The feeling is fantastic, every body on this march is seemedly 100%
united in the cause of celebrating being out about who they are.
Moria is dancing to the beat of the drums, Ishmael is waving to the
passers by, Miss Sans Francisco my escort is dancing, Alan and
Bergutte look cool, Zacs threatening to stick a drum stick up my arse
if a dare mention the name of a certain person again, the passers by
are cheering us, the police are well happy with us because we
celebrate, a riot would not be in our nature. Just for 45 minute SM
Pride take over the streets of central London and god bless them for
doing so