When in Rome, do as the English do! Part 2

If you have not read Part 1, Then scroll down a few posts to read it first.

To continue, dear reader.

Sarah and I are standing in Leopoldo's study. We are very still, and silent. We remain looking down, our hands clasped in front. A door on the far side of the room opens. We hear someone entering the room, we know it is Leopoldo, but don't look up, or move, until told to, as that can mean extra punishment.

Sarah and I know Leopoldo well, and have enjoyed his polite and friendly hospitality many times. But once we are in his study, doing a scenario, while he will always remain courteous and polite, the atmosphere is one of strictness. Upon his instruction we move in front of his desk, and are permitted to raise our eyes. Across the desk stands Leopoldo, with a kind but firm look about his face.

Before going on, let me give you the low down on Leopoldo's study. Don't get the idea this is some poky little office in a spare bedroom, this room is just palatial. The floor is marble, of course, with a very thick dark blue carpet in the middle. Leopoldo's desk is a feast of dark wood, with gold inlays, topped with a surface of ornate design including inlays of minerals and ivory. It's not my taste mind, but probably worth a fortune. Around the walls are pictures and mirrors in ornate frames. In places, against the walls, are tables every bit as ornate as the desk, but with marble tops. One of these has been moved to the centre of the room. On this table is an opened bottle of champagne and three glasses. Leopoldo himself is resplendent in the full dress uniform of a cavalry officer in the Italian army. The uniform is pressed, the brown leather riding boots gleaming.

At the word from Leopoldo, Sarah and I turn and go to the marble topped table in the middle of the room. We stand on opposite sides and then bend across the table so that our shoulders almost touch. On the way to the table I heard Leopoldo make two clicking sounds with his tongue. I knew exactly what that meant. When moving across the room I looked briefly in the mirrors I had passed. Now when it comes to mirrors, I just can't resist the temptation to look at myself. It's no good I can't resist. However in these scenarios, looking in the mirrors is just not allowed. Leopoldo had seen me do it, so I would get extra punishment, nothing nasty, but enough to start the butterflies flying around my stomach.

You see, dear reader, I find this sort of thing really exiting. I just love the tension of rules which inevitably I break. The best part of a scenario is paying for being extra naughty. Even in everyday life, I just love the thrill of doing something I shouldn't, particularly if it results in a punishment being firmly applied to my bare bottom. But, as ever, I digress.

Once Sarah and I are in place, heads down, bottoms up, still and quiet, Leopoldo comes over to the table and takes hold of one of our dresses. You see, these uniforms have been cleverly designed. Instead of the back seam of the skirt being sewn as normal, the whole length of the seam from the waist to the bottom hem is fastened with poppers. Leopoldo simply pulls each side of the seam and the skirt parts all the way to the waist, leaving our silk clad derrieres exposed. When he has prepared each of us this way, the fun begins.

The session starts with some hand spanking. Being a true gentleman, Leopoldo starts with fairly gentle smacks to warm us up, before applying firmer strokes, pausing regularly to give some nice rubs. He may be elderly, but after 20 minutes of dealing with each of us in turn, he is just getting into his stride, and our botties are feeling delightfully warm! He carries on, moving between Sarah and I, until finally finishing with some smacks that would not shame a world class athlete!

After the spanking, Sarah and I are permitted a short break. When bidden, I pour some of the champagne into the three glasses, and take one to Leopoldo. Once I made the mistake of putting Leopoldo's glass on his desk. How was a girl to know that his desk was sacred territory? He remained composed, but it was clear that I had committed a great sin. What a hoohah! Trying to be helpful I suggested the mark would soon come off with a bit of Mr Sheen, but to no avail. In the end it amounted to some hours of work by a specialist from the city, and for me touching my toes for one of the sorest bottoms in a long time. I know what you are thinking. If I get a thrill from the consequences of my naughtiness, then surely I would have done it again. Trust me, every rule has an exception, and this one was it.

After the bubbly, it was time for more fun. As we bent over the table, Sarah giggled. The click of Leopoldo's tongue meant he had heard it and she would pay later. But Sarah is a real submissive like me, and usually does something to merit some extra discipline. Sometimes, fuelled with champagne courage, we compete for who gets the most extra!

From his desk Leopoldo produces a masterpiece in leather, which looks like a cross between a paddle and a strap. The workmanship on this implement is superb. Not only is the patterned stitching unique, but the surface is finely tooled. Apparently, Leopoldo acquired this piece while he was at university in Cambridge. After each session it is taken away by one of the staff and carefully oiled. It's an antique, but still has plenty of life in it!

At this point there is always an air of expectancy and the butterflies in my stomach are flying in formation like the Red Arrows. Leopoldo puts down his glass, so we prepare ourselves for what follows. Hopefully by this time the champagne is doing its job. He pauses behind us, and holding the waistband of our silk knickers, pulls them right down. Its nice to feel the air, which seems cooling to our hot and red bottoms. Once again we are dealt with in turns. I like the way he places his hand firmly on my lower back, the entire rhythmic motion of each swing being transmitted to my body, before the delicious stinging impact of every stroke. Leopoldo continues applying the strap with an enthusiasm of a man half his age, pausing to give a gentle rub and moving between Sarah and I every ten strokes. (Remember they're metric the Italians, no six or twelve of the best for them) Now call me old fashioned, but the feel of a skilfully applied leather strap to my bare bottom just pushes all the right buttons for me. With this implement it is impossible to keep still, after each stroke there is some inevitable squirming, but too much and Leopoldo's tongue starts to click!

At last, Leopoldo returns to his desk, and we know the strapping is finished and we can stand up again. But the session is not over, there is the matter of our extra punishment. When Leopoldo first came into the room he was carrying a riding crop, not out of place with his cavalry officers uniform. But this is no ordinary riding crop, it is made to an unusual design by a German company called Fleck. Instead of the usual round tapered shaft with a folded flap of leather at the end, below the handle, the entire shaft is flattened and leather covered over its length.

Picking up the crop Leopoldo returns to face us. From previous experience we know the crop is applied in the classic touching toes position. I usually take first turn. So down I go, touching the toes of my shoes, the muscles of my legs and bottom pulled taught. I feel Leopoldo pull the two halves of the skirt apart, leaving my bare, red, and very hot bottom completely exposed. The butterflies in my stomach are flying in spirals as the adrenalin flows. Usually at this point I wished I had drained the whole bottle of bubbly, or better still ignored those mirrors. Then after what seems an eternity, there is the swishing sound of the crop passing through the air in its descending arc, followed by the heavy leather shaft landing squarely across both cheeks, with a sound not unlike a cane. The pain comes in one flowing wave, and I need to let out a gasp that allows me to keep in position. There is always a pause between strokes. These pauses seem the longest in human history, but hey! this is what I joined for. Today I'm lucky and its only five strokes. I stand up, feeling the high I always get from well applied discipline, and part of me even wishes that I had giggled or looked in mirrors a bit more. I give Leopoldo a genuine kiss of appreciation and stand aside for Sarah to take her turn.

When its all over we run down the corridors back to our rooms, giggling like schoolgirls. Its time for a long bath and and an application of moisturiser to our poor botties. The next morning its back to the grind of changing in draughty summerhouses, trying not to let our dressers see our backsides. And of course lunch is a grabbed, stand up affair for Sarah and I, as sitting with the crew on hard wooden or stone benches just doesn't appeal to us! But there is always a comment about how bubbly we both are, and enquiries about what we had been doing the night before, to be so excitable.

The Villa Patronni may be all luxury, but it does not add to the pleasure of being spanked. I get just as much pleasure in my playroom, over the knee of a gentleman who is pulling down a pair of M&S panties. Leopoldo is very nice, but I live in the real world of today, and enjoy the company of people, who like me, have to work hard for a living.

Now, dear reader, I believe the Fleck is the ultimate punishment implement. The feel of that hard leather covered shaft is just the business It hurts more than a cane, but without the threat of damage. I got one for myself. Its not surprising that gentlemen who visit me have the same opinion. They like its heavy feel and comfortable handle, and really enjoy applying it with verve to my naked rear. Its no secret that my favourite position is be punished lying bottom up, on a huge leather bean bag. Oh the sheer pleasure of it!

If after reading my blog you would like to know more about me then just click on www.naughtycatherine.org 
Would you like to spank me for yourself? then call me on 07515 007 720 or email me at naughtycatherine@googlemail.com .

When in Rome, do as the English do! Part 1

"Rome" said Jan the booker at my agency. "The client has asked for you and Sarah" she added. "Ah, is it the Villa Patronni?" I asked. "Yes" she replied, and we both had a naughty giggle. Now the Villa Patronni is quite a gaff, and is just the perfect location for photo shoots. It is situated in the hills outside Rome, and quite apart from the views from the grounds, it has just everything. The Villa is breathtaking, marble everywhere, of course, absolutely full of paintings, statues, and period furniture. The formal gardens are beautiful, with lakes and fountains, a huge grotto made from volcanic rock, and even some really ancient Roman ruins. There's also a vineyard on the hillside below. While very old, it's all kept in magnificent condition, which can also be said for Leopoldo its owner! My agency has been able to use the Villa several times, which really hacks off some of the other agencies who can wait for years for permission to use it. But my agency has a secret formula, me and Sarah.

People think models have a luxury existence. Ok, if your name is Kate Moss this may be true, but for the rest of us it's long hours of being treated as just an object to hang clothes on. Well, when we use Villa Patronni I have, just for a short time, a real taste of luxury. While the other models and the location crew get to stay in hotels, Sarah and I are put up at the Villa. Ok, the plumbing is a bit quaint, but you only have to imagine me luxuriating in a marble bath, the water scented with real rose oil, to get some idea that quaint it may be, heavenly it definitely is. There aren't many staff around these days, but I prefer that, as you can have a stroll about, without some flunky giving strange looks. I remember, at another one of these period locations, leaving an apple core in what turned out the be a very rare and valuable bowl. The owners thought it really funny, but it took three of their anal retentive staff to bear this little trinket away to be cleansed of contamination.

But I digress. To return to the Villa Patronni. Apart from the Leopoldo's family who visit regularly, only he and his wife, and their staff live there. The grounds are open to visitors a few times a year, and apparently, because Leopoldo's son is in the government, some meetings are held there, from time to time. So much to Leopoldo's delight, when we stay there it really livens up the place. His wife (the Contessa, we call her) is charming and very indulgent.

But, I know what you are thinking, there is more to this, and you're right!

Each day follows a similar pattern. Various daily locations having already been selected by the creative director, the lighting and cameras are then set up very early. When they are ready we girls get made up, and start getting the togs on. If we are in the grounds, the changing areas can be quite primitive, but in any photo shoot half dressed girls are just part of the scenery. Sometimes the creative director wants an evening or night shot, so everything gets moved around. Anyone who thinks we girls get to lying in bed to 10am is in cloud cuckoo land.

By late afternoon , it's all wrapped up for the day, and the crew go back to the hotels. That's when Sarah and I get to earn our keep. Leopoldo speaks perfect English because decades ago he came over and studied at Cambridge. It was at Cambridge he acquired a taste for one of the English vices (NO, not that one!!), the ancient art of spanking. He is always absolutely charming and courteous but has great enthusiasm for scenarios.

After the shoot, Sarah and I go back to our rooms for a nice long soak in the bath (not together you naughty boys!). On each of our beds is laid out a uniform. This is for the evening's scenario. it is a sort of old fashioned nurses uniform, which has more than a passing resemblance to a nun's habit. Apparently the old hospitals were run by nuns, hence the origins of the uniform. Let me tell you more about it Every garment is pure white, without a trace of any other colour. The underwear is all silk: there is a lacy basque with suspenders, opaque white stockings, and full knickers. (they are definitely not panties!). The shoes are white leather, with a medium heel and a lace-up styling at the front, quite victorian. The uniform is a dress with a full skirt of medium length, with a pinafore covering the bodice and an apron from the waist. The headdress is fitted to a headband and hangs down almost to the shoulders, covering the hair.

When we are dressed, Sarah and I are collected by one of the staff, and we are led in silence to Leopoldo's study. We enter, and the door is closed, leaving us alone in the room. We stand, very still, silent, our eyes looking down, hands clasped in front. A door on the far side of the room opens.............. To be continued in Part 2.

(Of course, I have changed the name of the Villa and its owner, but everything else is just as described)

As you know I love all types of scenario, there are some examples on my web page at www.naughtycatherine.org 

If you think that this girl just needs a taste of good old fashioned discipline, just email me at naughtycatherine@googlemail.com or give me a call on 07515 007720.

Sorry if you got no answer

Have just got back from a modelling trip, and rather well tanned as it turns out. Don't fear for the effects of excess sun, this was the other sort of tanning! Sorry if you have been trying to call me in the last week, but the art director starts throwing his toys about if we use our phones during shoots. I will tell you more about it when I get a chance.

The web page will be updated in the next couple of days, with a new picture reflecting the warmer weather.

Got to run, bye for now.

Brazil - Where the nuts come from

With the civil unrest in Guadeloupe, the planned modelling shoot has had to be postponed. But all is not lost, as I have another assignment in Brazil.

As soon as Brazilian men see the paler skin of a European girl, their testosterone kicks in, and they get into a state of permanent, how shall I say, arousal. It's the same with the British crew going with us. We European girls can wander around with next to nothing on, and they take little notice. The moment they spy the locals with their dusky skin, dark hair, and brown eyes, their priapic tendencies become all too obvious.

To be fair, Brazilian girls, at least when young, can be utterly gorgeous, so I don't really blame the lads. But I can't say I am attracted to Brazilian men though. Call me old fashioned, but I like the men closer to home. So it's no sunbathing in public, even though we girls get 'minders'.

Anyway I'll tell you all about it when I get back. In the meantime watch this space for a posting on my trip to Rome.

Check out my web page at www.naughtycatherine.org

If you think that this girl just needs a taste of good old fashioned discipline, just email me at naughtycatherine@googlemail.com or give me a call on 07515 007720.

When in Guadeloupe, do as the French do

Well, in a few weeks I'm off on a modelling shoot to Guadeloupe. "Where's that" I said to the agency booker, "French Caribbean" came the reply, which makes sense because we will be working for a French company. And, for you followers of soccer, it is the favourite destination for Thierry Henry. And do you know, they use the Euro, even being all of 5000 miles from France. Remember that, it has to come up in a pub quiz sometime!

Mind you the last time I was in the French Caribbean, in Martinique, things got a bit hairy when I decided to go topless on one of the beaches and was arrested. I was taken back to an infested hole they called the police station. I didn't fancy spending any time in there while officialdom, particularly bureaucratic French type officialdom, took its course. I tried my winning smile; no luck there. I tried my most sensual charm; but no luck there either. So it was down to my 'weapon of mass attraction'. You guessed it, my derriere. Yours truly has used her botty to get out of a lot of tight corners. Why is that? Simple. No red bloodied male can deny having the desire to give a woman a spanking, but most don't get the opportunity. By submitting to such desires, as every woman should, I have my own 'get out of jail, free' card.

So I suggested to the three nice policemen, that a little fessee was in order. Following an initial look of disbelief, and a furtive scout about for any senior officers, they very politely led me to an interview room. OTK was the order of the day, and it was not long before my sarong was lifted, bikini bottoms pulled down, and some large and very strong hands applied to my bare cheeks. These guys took to it like ducks to water, each having several turns. My 'sentence' duly over, I tripped off back to my hotel, although I have to confess, I was still sore the next morning!

Well I'll keep you posted about the trip, after it happens. In the meantime have you seen my web page with the, recently posted, gallery. It can be found at this link: www.naughtycatherine.org

With a hint of Spring around, and before Easter and the holiday season arrives, it could be time to come and show me your own preferences for dealing with a very naughty girl.

The land of the, er, well, midnight!

As usual it started with a phone call from my model agency booker. "Ever been to Lapland?" Not a place I had been to so it was the usual images of midnight sun, reindeer, father Christmas, etc. Trying to be positive, I said " When is it, June?" "No" said the booker "January". Well Sir Ranulph Fiennes might be tempted by temperatures of -20 C, but me I'm a warm blooded bird. "You don't need to worry about the cold, the shoot is for a late season ski wear promotion. You'll be in high fashion, multi layer, high tech, skiing kit".

So I went for it, and a week later was on a plane heading for somewhere north of the Arctic Circle. Now Finland is not a crowded country, 70% of the population live within 30 miles of Helsinki, which is way down south. By the time you get to Lapland, there are very few people indeed, and not a Pizza Express to be found. The place we stayed at was a massive lodge made of wood, a bit basic, but quite cosy. Two things immediately struck me, it was horrendously cold, and dark, like 24 hours a day. At mid day there was a dull glow on the southern horizon, otherwise permanent night. I noticed that in the middle of the day, while still dark, there was an eerie glow to the snow covered landscape. Quite striking really, and the photographer just raved about it.

Needless to say I had come prepared. An aunt had lent me her Damart thermals, as most of my underwear is designed for anything but warmth. The first day of shooting we all piled into a tracked vehicle and headed to the location selected for our shoot. When we got there it all looked terribly romantic, what with the scenery, some of the locals, actually called Lapps, and, of course, some tame reindeer.

Then came the bombshell! The client wanted the campaign to stress the thermal credentials of his ski kit, so as well as choosing a location 500 miles north of any respectable ski resort, he wanted the contrast of his clothing being shown against bare skin! That's it! We were going to be starkers except where covered by the high tech clothing!

We all started fully clothed if naked inside, but soon the photographer was getting us undoing zips, and ripping velcro, for some shots that were certainly going to give the Sunday supplements a bit of a lift. There were certainly more pert nipples on show than around Sainsbury's cold counter! To be fair the shoot was over quite quickly, spurred on by our demands to keep the kit on until we got back to the lodge!

When we got back to the lodge, there was a very pleasant surprise. Paivi the woman who ran the lodge offered us the use of her sauna. Now being a liberal minded girl, I have always regarded saunas as, well, a bit, you know. But this was the real thing. It was huge, like the lodge all wood, with shelves at different levels, and absolutely blistering hot. Welcome was not the word for it, we all loved it.

After being in the sauna for quite a while, Paivi told us that the locals would follow a sauna by a roll in the snow. Well, being a game chick, and risking cardiac arrest, I was the first out of the door and plunged naked into the snow. I cannot describe the feeling, not at all what I expected. The heat in our bodies just seemed to protect us. Of course, someone had to throw the first snowball and soon there was snow flying everywhere, with us girls charging about in our birthday suits.

Then we saw them, about 200 yards away, these figures clad in white, on skis, and carrying guns! They were standing still, watching us. That soon stopped the hijinks, and we all dashed back inside, in a blind panic. Paiva just laughed. The white clad figures were soldiers. Either NATO, or Russian. Neither are supposed to be in Finland, the NATO guys being stationed in Norway, and the Russians based to the east. But in that part of the world borders don't have much meaning so they both have patrols criss crossing northern Finland. Well, all I hope is that the sight of our heavenly bodies did something positive for east-west relations!

Then it was back to good old UK. But as we all know only a couple of weeks later we got some snow of our own. On February 3rd, the second day of the snow fall in the south, I was meeting up with a photographer to discuss adding a gallery to my web site. We were just moaning about how such little snow had brought things to a standstill. Then I got the devil in me, off came my skirt and panties, and I ran out into the garden, my lower body absolutely bare. Now, the garden is overlooked by surrounding properties, but I didn't care, it was time to defy the gloom of winter, the economy, tax demands, etc. The photographer followed me out and got a few great shots. We immediately put one on my webpage, at www.naughtycatherine.org

That's enough of my ramblings for this post. There will be more about my life, times, and misadventures in future postings. I can be emailed at naughtycatherine@googlemail.com or if you feel his girl needs to have her recently chilled bottom, given a thorough warming up, then call me on 07515 007 720

Being a schoolgirl just comes naturally

I get asked to role play many different themes, but the traditional schoolgirl scenario is still popular in this otherwise fast changing world. It is easy to see why. The Headmaster/ Pupil relationship fits so naturally with the role of the Dom and Sub. I don't have a favourite role play but there is a certain buzz when I am asked to be the delinquent of year 12!

For me it starts as soon as I put on the uniform. From the gentle embrace of the regulation knickers, to the careful knotting of the striped tie. I then immediately fall into the role of the wilfully independent late teenager in need of some sound corrective therapy. The mood changes as soon as the 'headmaster' starts to point out what a disobedient pupil I have been. His authority seems to envelope me as we play our respective roles towards my inevitable punishment.

Watching the 'headmaster' sit on a chair and command me to bend over his knee, starts the clock of my anxiety ticking. The feel of the muscular thighs beneath me with one firm arm around my waist, is as fresh every time. With the first fall of the hand, muffled by my clothing, I am off on that roller coaster of thrill and anxious anticipation.

After the almost conventional dozen or two spanks over my clothes, there is that pause, the waiting, but not for long. The hem of the skirt is turned right over to my back, and those masculine hands grasp the soft waistline of my knickers. Techniques vary, a headmaster may gently pull the waistband over my cheeks, just to the top of my thighs. Or he might use the arm around my waist to manfully raise me up from his lap, allowing the complete withdrawal of my knickers, right down to my knees.

Again that pause; I can feel the cool air on my cheeks. And then there is a sensation of movement as the hand falls on to my unprotected globes. If its a gentle start then that is fine, but then so is the first fall of the hand which makes me gasp. The headmaster is in charge, and that is what matters.

Because I am really naughty, a spanking, even a firm one, will not teach me the error of my ways. So the headmaster may need to use a succession of implements. Sometimes I remain over his lap. Other times I am bent over a chair or table. It does not matter as each application of the implement gives me a distinct, if painful thrill.

Each implement is different in how it feels. The leather paddle, may make a dull sounding impact, but it leaves an all over glow to the bottom. The strap has a snap to its sound, and a real sting to go with it. And the feeling lasts, each stroke adding the sensation. An old school punishment implement is the tawse, which has a justified reputation for being very painful, but with it comes that feeling unique to a real submissive, that of wanting more, even though, at the same time, the pain may seem unbearable. Its difficult to explain that double sensation. Wanting the pain to stop, but yet willing the headmaster to continue his domination. The martinet or flogger is a particular favourite of mine. I just love to be whipped with them.

The ultimate implement is the cane. They, of course, come in all types and sizes, and both headmasters and their delinquent pupils have their preferences. The cane can be applied in many positions, but whatever the angle the sensation is unique. A cane applied with authority is the way to an altered state of consciousness. Its like climbing that last few feet to the top of a mountain. All the pain is forgotten in the exhilaration of getting to the top.

For the true submissive, the experience of being told to adopt the classic caning position, is an essential part of the experience. Just to hear the words makes one quiver with nervous anticipation. "Bend over and touch your toes". When the headmaster speaks that command, I find my legs literally shaking with emotion. The exposure as the skirt is lifted and the knickers pulled down is more profound than in any other position. It is complete exposure, complete surrender to the headmaster's will. the wait for the first stroke, can seem like hours, rather than seconds. It is this moment that encompasses the whole reason why the schoolgirl/headmaster scenario has stood the test of time.

Well, I hope you boys enjoyed sharing my innermost thoughts. Perhaps you would like to try the experience for yourself? Take a look at my web page at www.naughtycatherine.org
. You can call me anytime on 07515 007 720. or email me at naughtycatherine@googlemail.com When I have time, there will be more excerpts from the life and times, and misadventures of Naughty Catherine.