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Category: amigas

A Saint Clare Reading List for Emma Bishop

Posted on By Mija

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There’s been an outbreak of lurgy over at Bishy’s house, with poor little Emma Bishop still tucked up and recovering. Since she’s sensibly curled up watching Mallory Towers (her matron must be a total push-over compared to the one at St. Clare), I pointed her toward my most recent Saint Clare story, Naughty Arabella Gets the Sack.

She enjoyed it (no surprise given her affinity for and kinship with naughty girls and their well-earned consequences) and because I know she loves a good F/f school story, I’m sending her this reading list in the hope she feels better soonest. As I wrote it, I realized some other readers might be interested, and enjoy a less broken path through the stories.

Here you go:

Saint Clare School:

Inez of the Upper IV Path:

More instalments of Inez of the Upper IV are coming this month… provided no one misbehaves so spectacularly that I am called away to deal with them first.

Feel better soon, Bishy!

And do rest properly, or Matron will be round with her thermometer, tablespoon, and that Look.

In the meantime, consider yourself excused from lessons and fully permitted to enjoy as many school stories as you please. 😊

 

The 1997 Brat Survival Kit (with 2025 Footnotes)

Posted on By Mija

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Back in the late 1990s, alt.sex.spanking and soc.sexuality.spanking loved making “Back to School ” posts. What follows is my 1997 Brat Kit — faithfully preserved, complete with bubblegum, stickers, and chaos. Only now it comes with a 2025 brat (and professor) scribbling in the margins and leaving footnotes, teasing and blushing about what’s soooo dated and what’s (maybe) still bratting gold.

Update: click here for the 2025 Professor/Academic Kits !

It’s getting to be that time of year again <boo!!! hiss!!!> — thoughts are turning to school and uniforms and teachers and classes <pout/sulk>. Summer is just too darn short (no, not Summer Nicole, I mean the season between spring and fall — like duh!!) and the autumn back-to-school sales are showing up (Pablo recently just happened to notice that everyone is out buying new school uniforms). =:-O

As they get our uniforms in order, sharpen pencils, buy new notebooks and worse yet <gasp! horrors!!> new and improved math books, I feel all constrained and stifled (like my collar is too starchy and tight!!! Help help I’m being oppressed!!!). And so, I think what I need for the start of school is a brand spanking new brat survival kit or two. And maybe you need one too. The basic one should be carried on or near your cute little brat bod at all times. The deluxe one is meant for the well-appointed brat locker.

This list is not exhaustive and could be thought of as the start of a thread BB4B (by brats for brats). I’m sure you all have good ideas of what should go in here. I wanna hear ’em now!!! Hurry, hurry, before school starts!!! Also, I’ve kinda taken the squirt gun/silly string/water balloon stuff as a constant given. <giggling> Let’s try and be original here!

Basic Kit

Beeper. Should go off randomly, especially in study hall and on exam days (a theatrical or musical performance would be another good place for this). This will work best if you’re trying to annoy (not that I would of course) Pablo. Beeping alarm watches set at 15 minute intervals are a good substitute here. Do NOT answer or stop the beeper. The trick is to look around like you’re wondering whose it is too. Advanced brats will want to hide it in the room itself (Heating vents? Ceiling tiles?? The teacher’s briefcase???) <neg>.12025 brat-self: Grandma, what is a beeper? You mean those plastic pagers from ER reruns? Did you carry one in your fanny pack, too?

Gum. Sugary, hot pink (Bazooka is always good or Hubba-Bubba) — the sticky pink stuff is great because it is a kewl color, smells good, tastes sweet and has awesome irritating noise potential (bubble popping, cracking, or just chewing all noisy-like).22025 brat-self: Endorsed. Loud gum still works. Upgrade: neon chewing gum TikTok challenge.

Hershey Kiss. (See larger kit below, under chocolate.)32025 brat-self: Hershey’s still exists, but are you sure you don’t want Trader Joe’s dark chocolate peanut butter cups?

Liquid Paper Bottle. You have to make this. Take a bottle (full, empty, whatever), empty it, then rinse it clean with nail polish remover. You now have an approved-of school supply that can be used to transport a very small item to a knowing fellow brat. I use them to pass notes that are all rolled up around the brush. Almost undetectable!!42025 brat-self: Liquid Paper?! Honey, we just text now. Or send memes. Still, props for spycraft.

Pens. No, I haven’t gone over to the dark (read: top) side here. I mean special pens.

  • Fat fluorescent highlighters for one (great because you could even say you were going to study with them <g>). I like to highlight any spanking-related words myself (note to moderators: Now I’m on topic, right?) <ng>.52025 brat-self: Timeless. Brats highlight “spank” in PDFs now.

  • Permanent markers. Not that I’d use them to draw on a paddle or cane or anything, let alone to write ‘Grow your own dope; plant a top!’ on the bathroom walls (that was Randi, I swear!!) <eg>. But you could!! And you could write on yourself with them too. Almost like a tattoo, the marks take days and days to get off <g>. Marks-A-Lot now makes a ‘brights’ pack that includes a hot pink, bright green, orange and black.62025 brat-self: Writing on bathroom walls replaced by digital graffiti = memes + Slack emojis.

  • Fluorescent roller ball pens. For homework, notes to friends, writing lines, doodling, whatever (these are so kewl!!!!). OK, they aren’t easy to find, but man are they worth it (they are called ‘Gelly Rolls’ by Sakura — I found them at a Carlton Cards). They come in bunches of colors (all obnoxious as heck, but I like the hot pink and fluorescent green best). Pablo has yet to express a preference — he must like them all!! 😛 There is a very bright yellow (Summer?) but it’s even harder to read than the others <grin grin grin>. They are so smooth and easy to write with (I’m thinking about some brat with mucho lines here — surely not me) and stand out beautifully against white. A must have!!!! (IMHO).72025 brat-self: Still rule. Pastel ink supremacy never dies.

Stickers. Whatever kind. Smiley faces (putting a smiley next to a ‘D’ may confuse a dumb top into thinking it’s a ‘B’ — try OVER a ‘D’, get the signature and then peel the sticker back off), frowny faces, whatever (see Tasha or Mija for the limited edition neon orange ‘Power to the Brats’ ones).82025 brat-self: Stickers never die, they just became emojis. Still waiting on a neon orange “Power to the Brats” emoji pack.

Deluxe Locker Kit

Chocolate. In any and all forms. For emergency snacks (remember, there’s no such thing as too much sugar :-P) or quickie bribes (just so the other brats don’t squeal on ya <glancing over at ‘lissa>).92025 brat-self: Upgrade to fair-trade, salted caramel, or THC-infused. Choices matter.

Carbon Paper. If I hafta explain this one you is no brat.102025 brat-self: Please explain anyway, Nana. Was this before or after the dinosaurs?

Dictionary. Yeah right — NOT. (Addition: it was pointed out to me that some work with a penknife would make a dictionary a great place to hide brat objects. I’m not taking a position on this ’cause cutting up any book would put me in the OTK one. Let’s just say that this came as a suggestion from a high office holder in this town. Without naming names it was Jdg Ptrch**.)112025 brat-self: Cute. Now we hide files in the “Taxes 2014” folder on Google Drive. Same vibe.

Musical Card. You know, the ones that play ‘Happy Birthday’ or ‘Jingle Bells’. These would be a mildly bratty thing to send someone; they are rather annoying even the first time through. But an advanced brat will take the button-sized device out of the card, use a piece of tape to permanently secure it on ‘play’ and hide it in the (math) classroom (inside a light fixture or wall socket is a good place!!!). At first no one will hear it, but then there will be a quiet moment. And like a loudly ticking clock, once you hear the tinny music you cannot not hear it. Trust me, your teacher will go NUTS looking for it (practice your innocent and annoyed look NOW). The best thing is, these little musical devices have been known to play for as long as a week. <giggling madly> Oh, and extra kudos to the first brat to find one that plays ‘I’m Too Sexy’ for Petruchio’s class.122025 brat-self: Still genius. Modern equivalent: looped TikTok audio on a Bluetooth speaker hidden in the ceiling.

Nail Polish. I don’t care if you are a het male brat!! <giggle> You don’t just need this stuff, you need this stuff!! The purple, green and chartreuse polishes (let alone the neon yellow called ‘sinful’ I bought Saturday) are another way to make yourself stand out from the crowd and express your individuality. Most schools don’t yet have a policy on nail color. Imagine what good thoughts the headmaster will have of you if you have the school’s orange and green colors expressed on your nails!!! He’s bound to want to personally congratulate you on your individuality.132025 brat-self: Neon nail polish? Timeless. Also: now gender-free. Everyone’s nails get bratty.

Paddle Protectors. Another home-made item. Made from cutting bound magazines in circle shapes. Judge your own size ;). Insert in underwear or knickers prior to visiting the headmaster/mistress’s office. (Important Safety Note: obviously you need to make sure that like the ones in Knax’s stories this is going to be an over the skirt/pants paddling. Otherwise you’ll only get yourself in deeper. And don’t even think I’d be responsible! Mija is never responsible.)142025 brat-self: Sweetie, we have gel inserts now. Or claim “ergonomic accommodation.”

Police Line Tape. You know, that yellow ‘Do Not Cross’ stuff. Steal it from real crime scenes (or maybe your dad is a police officer (???)) and then squirrel it away. If you play your cards right you could close the whole school for a day or two (this might require a chalked outline of a three legged man too)!!!152025 brat-self: In 2025, this prank gets you arrested. Substitute: “Do Not Disturb — Zoom in Progress” tape.

Powerbook. Well, my Mac is bratty, and PC and UNIX people seem to think all Mac owners are brats (though that’s just ’cause we’ve never had to read the dumb manuals :-P). ‘Sides, I waaaaaaannnnnt a Powerbook all my own!!! <stamping foot for emphasis> Um, the one with the active matrix screen and DVD player. Oh, and while I’m dreaming, can I have a pony?162025 brat-self: LOL. “DVD player.” That’s vintage now. Macs still brat-coded, though.

Rayban Wayfarer Sunglasses. For the days you’re just too cool for school.172025 brat-self: Endorsed. No notes. Ray-Bans forever.

Safety Pins. In case you get tired of rolling your skirt. If you use one pin per pleat they are real hard to detect. And if you get sent to the office for the skirt being too short (it will look like it was altered by sewing) you just stop at the restroom and take the pins back out. You can now innocently claim that the teacher is picking on you. 😉182025 brat-self: Still clever. Only now the dress code violation is leggings-as-pants.

Shoe Laces. In neon green, pink or yellow (all three for that ever-so-special day!!). School dress codes rarely specify the color of shoe laces, so this is a legal (at least at present) way to individualize your uniform. A little neon near your toes is bound to lift your mood, lighten your feet, make you dance out of line. It may have the bonus of distracting your classmates and even your teacher!!!!192025 brat-self: Still works. Swap in LED laces and watch your shoes light up faculty meetings.

Closing Note

The 1997 brat kit is a time capsule: beepers, carbon paper, and Powerbooks with DVD drives <g>. Reading it now is a reminder that brat culture has always been about invention, cheek, and refusing to play “TREW SUB” by anyone’s rules.

2025 brat-self to 1997 brat-self: You’re adorable, but carbon paper? Really? Still, the bones of the brat kit hold up — it’s just the tech that changes.

So here’s the invitation: if you were building a brat kit for a period roleplay set in the 1980s or 1990s, what would you pack? Cassette tapes for “accidentally” unspooling in the Walkman? Scratch-and-sniff stickers? Trapper Keeper with a secret stash? A dial-up modem sound effect timed for maximum disruption?

As it says in the original post: This list is not exhaustive and could, no should, be thought of as the start of a thread BB4B (by brats for brats). So add your own artifacts — because brat kits are never finished, and every era deserves its own mischief.

And hey, catch me if you can.

  • 1
    2025 brat-self: Grandma, what is a beeper? You mean those plastic pagers from ER reruns? Did you carry one in your fanny pack, too?
  • 2
    2025 brat-self: Endorsed. Loud gum still works. Upgrade: neon chewing gum TikTok challenge.
  • 3
    2025 brat-self: Hershey’s still exists, but are you sure you don’t want Trader Joe’s dark chocolate peanut butter cups?
  • 4
    2025 brat-self: Liquid Paper?! Honey, we just text now. Or send memes. Still, props for spycraft.
  • 5
    2025 brat-self: Timeless. Brats highlight “spank” in PDFs now.
  • 6
    2025 brat-self: Writing on bathroom walls replaced by digital graffiti = memes + Slack emojis.
  • 7
    2025 brat-self: Still rule. Pastel ink supremacy never dies.
  • 8
    2025 brat-self: Stickers never die, they just became emojis. Still waiting on a neon orange “Power to the Brats” emoji pack.
  • 9
    2025 brat-self: Upgrade to fair-trade, salted caramel, or THC-infused. Choices matter.
  • 10
    2025 brat-self: Please explain anyway, Nana. Was this before or after the dinosaurs?
  • 11
    2025 brat-self: Cute. Now we hide files in the “Taxes 2014” folder on Google Drive. Same vibe.
  • 12
    2025 brat-self: Still genius. Modern equivalent: looped TikTok audio on a Bluetooth speaker hidden in the ceiling.
  • 13
    2025 brat-self: Neon nail polish? Timeless. Also: now gender-free. Everyone’s nails get bratty.
  • 14
    2025 brat-self: Sweetie, we have gel inserts now. Or claim “ergonomic accommodation.”
  • 15
    2025 brat-self: In 2025, this prank gets you arrested. Substitute: “Do Not Disturb — Zoom in Progress” tape.
  • 16
    2025 brat-self: LOL. “DVD player.” That’s vintage now. Macs still brat-coded, though.
  • 17
    2025 brat-self: Endorsed. No notes. Ray-Bans forever.
  • 18
    2025 brat-self: Still clever. Only now the dress code violation is leggings-as-pants.
  • 19
    2025 brat-self: Still works. Swap in LED laces and watch your shoes light up faculty meetings.
amigas Card reading September Summarized in orange script

September Summarized (2025)

Posted on By Mija

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In Southern California September is a peculiar season. That felt especially true this year after a summer spent in the British Isles. September’s the month when the calendar insists autumn has arrived, Pumpkin Spiced Everything starts to appear, the days grow noticeably shorter — and yet here the thermometer climbs higher than in July.1Good grief. Clearly I’m in my 50s — I’m writing about the weather. It’s not the heat that bothers me though — mostly I dislike watching the daylight dwindle; from here to (almost) January I’m counting down to the Winter Solstice, and looking forward to when the days begin to stretch again.

The luggage is still missing, but at least I’ve replaced some of the books.

Still, I’ve always loved the back-to-school feeling — even as a teacher. There’s something magical about new notebooks, fresh pens, and a stack of books waiting to be opened. This September brought plenty of that “new term” spirit, research and writing. Here’s September’s report:

Oasis
The Las Vegas party. Not a bad way to open the month. Thanks to Sutti’s accompanying me to the party, I was able to spend time in the suites — something I hadn’t managed in years. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the first scene party in a very long while where I didn’t suffer a panic attack. That in itself is a small triumph. I have two more posts begun about the experience, but (in true school girl2At least me as a school girl… fashion) I can’t promise when I’ll be able to get back to them.

Sips and Smacks logoSips and Smacks
A thrilling highlight of the month was being a guest on Sips and Smacks Episode 125. Rex and Adalia, the hosts, are engaging and fun. This made talking with them more like a brunch chatting poolside than an interview. We spoke about the way the scene has changed, what’s very much the same, differences between Paul’s and my uniform kinks — how his lean toward discipline and precise presentation, while mine are bound up with the belonging and community that uniform uniformity represents. They were sweet and let me enthuse about Inez of the Upper IV, and we looked back at the history of The Treehouse and its links to the Usenet days of alt.sex.spanking and soc.sexuality.spanking.

[Long-time readers will recall I first wrote about Sips and Smacks in December 2024 It feels like a full circle: from discovering the podcast to sitting down with the hosts as friends.]

Inez of the Upper IV
The Saint Clare’s/Inez stories continue to occupy much of my brain space — and I’m delighted they do. Readers have joined in: writing their own pieces, sending suggestions, even sharing memories of their schooldays. When I first began offering these “documents” as building blocks for stories, I wasn’t sure anyone would care to take part. Every comment since I began posting them has mattered enormously.

I’m currently trying to decide whether Scrivener3This is my third attempt to find the right use case for the software. It’s so visually elegant. Fingers crossed. might help me manage the sprawl (the red strings, pins, and sealing wax proving inadequate), I discovered I’ve already written more than 100,000 words of notes, timelines, and background. More flows out every time I open the “Mija” profile on my MacBook. This is, without a doubt, the most sustained burst of creativity I’ve had since my early days on alt.sex.spanking and soc.sexuality.spanking. I couldn’t be more delighted to find I am still Mija, with or without Pablo, something I’d doubted was possible when this blog began.

Recently, Inez’s story has stepped back into the 1930s to sketch the story of Inez’s parents,  Honour and Ned, prompted at least in part by Brigitte’s observation that Saint Clare has some of the same atmosphere as the boarding school in Rosamund Pilcher’s novel Coming Home.

The Treehouse Returns
Even with getting to hand out with Rex and Adalia, my biggest September news is <cue trumpets>:  after being abruptly shuttered five years ago, Pablo and Mija’s Treehouse will be back online in the next couple of months. Here in my room I’ve even made a little news page here.  But, of course, after being away so long we’re renovating. The original site was hand coded by Paul in 1999 — twenty-five years later Treehouse 2.0 will have a more sophisticated back end (like me). Paul and I are currently both uploading the individual stories and other texts.  This process reminds me just how much we lived there – not just us, but some of our oldest friends. It is more than a website; it is our time capsule of 1990s-2000s Usenet, when spankos (or whatever we call ourselves) first began finding one another online. My hope is that it still carries the spirit of alt.sex.spanking and soc.sexuality.spanking — a lively space where stories and friendships grew. That space meant the world to me in its day — something I’ve discussed in posts throughout this blog — I’m so glad our little piece will soon be back.

Closing Notes
So ends September’s chronicle: one part personal challenge, one part conversation, one part creative ferment, and one part community rediscovered. If you’d like to listen in, I’ll report back soon with more on Inez, and — like everyone else in the common room — I’m waiting eagerly for the day The Treehouse reopens its doors.I’ll report back soon with more on Inez, and — like everyone else in the common room — I’m eagerly anticipating the day Pablo and Mija’s Treehouse drops its rope ladder and welcomes everyone back in.

  • 1
    Good grief. Clearly I’m in my 50s — I’m writing about the weather.
  • 2
    At least me as a school girl…
  • 3
    This is my third attempt to find the right use case for the software. It’s so visually elegant. Fingers crossed.

Oasis 2025 – Day 1: Local at the Dog Park, Stranger at the Party

Posted on By Mija

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As I mentioned yesterday, this isn’t my inaugural Labor Day-weekend spanking shindig—I’ve been doing the “spank-and-sun” combo for a couple decades. What is new, though, is that it’s the first one in 20+ years without Paul, and the very first with Sutti in tow. Her presence rewrote the itinerary entirely.

Even in a city that markets itself as a playground for strangers, a quick stop at the dog park turns you into an instant “local.” Suddenly I’m swapping leash tips and weather forecasts with people who assume we’ve lived here forever—while I’m still trying to plot the route back to the hotel with the fewest left-turn-arrow intersections.

Sutti isn’t just any service dog; she’s a whoodle (Wheaten Terrier × Poodle)—fluffy, low-shedding, and happily immune to the chaos that follows me. Within minutes she’d made friends with every ball-chasing Labradoodle in sight. It was still under 90 degrees and I felt good about our calm, canine-filled intermission. It’s good to get outside sometimes, you know? Then, one young boxer, a newcomer like us, planted a wet, enthusiastic lick square on my forehead. It felt affectionate at the time.

By the time I was back in my Zoom lecture, fresh iced coffee to hand, that lick had staged a coup. First a tingle, then a welt, then a neat little cluster of blisters. Turns out I’m really, really allergic to boxers. Ooops!


 

My last Zoom ended at 3:00 PM.—that indecisive hour between lunch and dinner. Given that I hadn’t even had breakfast, it hardly mattered. I met a friend at the deli in Circa, across from the Plaza. My forehead welts by then were obvious, and she mentioned them immediately. I’d been hoping only I could see them. Not the case. I told her about the boxer and she wisely suggested Benadryl.

We caught up, moving from my forehead to a surprisingly detailed hair-brush showdown back in my room. Both of us measure brushes in inches but brag about their weight in grams, as if this were a miniature Olympic lifting competition. You can insert your own imagined commentary. Soon enough, our conversation gave way to testing: jeans first, then panties, smacks light enough for a first night. No one wants to start out a party feeling like they’ve been whacked by a novice lumberjack. It was perfect—warm, companionable, a glow we both hinted we’d like to revisit later.

We said goodbyes with vague promises about the suite parties that evening. The plan was solid—until 9 p.m., when I followed her advice and took a Benadryl. By the time I’d showered, it’d kicked in. The next thing I knew, it was 6:30 a.m. and I was already gearing up for another round of dog-park runs and Zoom meetings.

Perhaps by Day 2 I’ll make it up to the suites.

I did manage to get my name badge and (gulp) an envelope containing my detention slip.

amigas A watercolor sketch of a huge stack of luggage and a small black dog,

Mija and Her Brave Furry Companion in the British Isles OR Five Suitcases, One Dog, and the Case for Simplicity

Posted on By Mija

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Preview — To be read in BBC Radio 4 style

A summer adventure across the British Isles with Mija and her faithful furry Sutti girl: castles and cottages, uniforms and ferries, triumphs, tribulations, and luggage of mythic proportions. Part travelogue, part comeSutti-to-Kings-Crossdy of errors, and wholly a tale of old friends, new discoveries, and the surprising case for simplicity.

Chapter 1 — Long Beach: Paperwork, Panic, and Packing

(in which bureaucracy meets AuDHD and luggage multiplies like Gremlins)

The days before July 4th were chaos. The house had to be left in order: weeds pulled, rocks shifted, spiders relocated from their Olympic training ground. Errands multiplied — medications, safe deposit box, vaccinations (for Sutti, not me). I was just about keeping up when United rang with the kind of breezy cheer reserved for delivering ruin: “You’re missing a Heathrow Certificate for your service dog. No papers, no entry. Cargo is an option?”

“No, cargo is not an option.”

My voice probably cracked. I’d been so careful about everything to do with Sutti, working on it months in advance, working off a series of lists, paid a veteranery service to make sure her certifications were correct.1Turns out those were for her health. Heathrow needed to document *mine.* This had not been mentioned prior. Sigh.] 

Numbly I stood and listened to the nice woman from United outline what documents needed to be obtained and emailed and what would be required to get them. That they usually took a month or so to process, but I could try and get them done faster if I followed her instructions. These included calling Heathrow. “I can’t” I whispered.

She didn’t hear me.

“Email them to me when you have them. Then call so I know they’re there.” 

I sat staring at the clock. It was late on July 3rd — the Friday before the biggest holiday weekend in the U.S.2Businesses that had opened all had mostly closed by 12PM. — and suddenly I understood the particular horror of being told doing something isn’t impossible, but almost is. Traveling with my dog in the cabin into the UK in 18 hours wasn’t closed off entirely — it could be done, there is a process, but only with Herculean effort, panic, and possibly a pact with Satan. That was, in too many way, worse than an outright “no.” 

Because I was already exhausted and anxious to the point of burnout. I spent most of the previous year feeling stressed and stretched beyond breaking. By the time the semester ended being told I had to resubmit a single form caused tears and a sense of overwhelming despair.

 

I am not cargo.

Soo, not at my best. But this is Sutti. I couldn’t go without her — she needed to be on the plane. And not as cargo.

So began twelve frantic hours of bureaucratic hopscotch: PDFs, rabies certificates, microchip scans, vet letters, panic disorder paperwork, and, I swear, fragments of the Magna Carta. And so many phone calls.3Real calls. Like where I dialed and talked to people. People I didn’t know and weren’t expecting my call. Who were really helpful. At one point I tracked down Sutti’s trainer on his 25th anniversary trip to Paris.4Okay, but I didn’t know that’s where he was. Or why. By dawn, miracle of miracles, Heathrow approved her. When the LHR certificate finally landed in my inbox, ready to forward triumphantly to United, the sense of accomplishment I felt was on par with getting my doctorate. My vet’s office later told me no one they knew had ever flown a dog into the UK in the cabin of a commercial airliner. I credit academic-deadline stamina, indignation, and loyalty to a small dog who is not cargo.5I was also extremely fortunate that my employer had had me document Sutti’s training, skill, and my need for it so I already had letters from my doctors testifying to my CPTSD, severe anxiety, and panic disorder. So I guess I should thank my university’s HR office. Someday. The Heathrow Animal Reception Centre, brisk, friendly, helpful, and sensible (July 4th being just another day to them), were also exacting. (I had to call after each batch to find out what they needed next. Finally they determined that my paperwork was valid, Sutti s a service dog, but since her school isn’t on the official ADI list, I could either prove her training in 47 different ways, none possible from outside the UK, or pay £447 so she could enter with me.

I gave them my credit card number. It was 5AM and I still needed to pack. Yeah, my packing never stood a chance. Executive function is, for me, a single-use tool, and mine was entirely eaten by the paperwork marathon while it was going on. Once that fire was out, nothing was left for choosing clothes. So I defaulted to the only possible strategy: bring everything.6It was pointed out to me, that there was another choice. Bring nothing and buy the things I needed. Sensible in retrospect and would have proved far cheaper in the end, but I’m not lying when I say it never crossed my mind. Surprised? In the end I had two giant 60-pound7To be fair to myself one contained a 20 pound bag of Sutti’s Very Special Food (sold in the UK it turns out) and all her toys and stuff. suitcases, a carry-on roller, and a backpack. The Luggage Hydra Gremlin was born. And had been fed after dark.

More after the jump

(more…)

  • 1
    Turns out those were for her health. Heathrow needed to document *mine.* This had not been mentioned prior. Sigh.]
  • 2
    Businesses that had opened all had mostly closed by 12PM.
  • 3
    Real calls. Like where I dialed and talked to people. People I didn’t know and weren’t expecting my call. Who were really helpful.
  • 4
    Okay, but I didn’t know that’s where he was. Or why.
  • 5
    I was also extremely fortunate that my employer had had me document Sutti’s training, skill, and my need for it so I already had letters from my doctors testifying to my CPTSD, severe anxiety, and panic disorder. So I guess I should thank my university’s HR office. Someday.
  • 6
    It was pointed out to me, that there was another choice. Bring nothing and buy the things I needed. Sensible in retrospect and would have proved far cheaper in the end, but I’m not lying when I say it never crossed my mind. Surprised?
  • 7
    To be fair to myself one contained a 20 pound bag of Sutti’s Very Special Food (sold in the UK it turns out) and all her toys and stuff.

February Raffle Winner is: Natty!

Posted on By Mija

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The magic number is 3.

The magic number is… 3!

 

First, and likely most important, February’s Raffle Results

::drum roll::

The number drawn from the random number generator was three (3) Meaning the  winner of the (almost) new London Tanner Boudoir Paddle is:

My beloved newsgroup and blogging friend, Natty.

Some may claim this is rigged favoritism given that she’s a long-time friend and former Punishment Book author, but I’ll note that Natty posted two comments during the required period so had two chances to win. Since last we saw each other, Natty has switched roles from bottom to top, so I don’t even need to feel guilty about sending her something that causes pain. I mean, causes her pain.

Natty: I’m excited to get to ship it off to you. Look for an email requesting your mailing address.

Look too for an update, hopefully in the next couple of days. It’s been one hell of a month.

That Escalated Quickly – Real Life (New Story!)

Posted on By Mija

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woman in green Scottish school uniform reading a book
That’s the kilt and school desk. I did not wear either the tie or blazer today.

[Wanna win a new London Tanner paddle? One’s being raffled this month on this very blog. You enter by posting a comment to any post or page on the blog. Each new comment or reply to another comment gets you another entry.]

That Escalated Quickly (2025)

by Mija

M/F

[texting with a friend during a break in writing something super important1The academic job letter is the worst writing genre in the world. It manages to both be extremely boring AND incredibly high-stakes stressful at the same time. ]

Me:
I just had things escalate unexpectedly here.

Not Me:
Oh?

Not Me:
👀

Me: Yup. Here goes…

So, I’m wearing my Scottish uniform—the green one. I’m wearing a green plaid skirt, sweater, white shirt, and green knee socks. Paul had just got home, and after we’d unloaded the groceries, I was taking a break from what’s been a 14-hour workday (so far) by chilling in the living room while Paul worked on fixing the smoke detector. I realized I had about 20 minutes left on my break (more like five now).

I joked, “There’s not much point in having you guess my knicker color today.”

Paul goes, “They should be green.”

I was like, “Right,” and went back to Candy Crush.

Then he said, “Well, show me.”

Normally, he makes me stand up, touch my toes, and then he lifts my skirt to check if my knickers are the “right” color—before giving me/them about a dozen smacks with his hand.

Paul was on the other side of the room, and honestly, I was too lazy to actually stand up (major facepalm). So I quickly turned and pulled my legs up so my feet were over my head with my toes touching the cushion, thinking it’d be a cool “flashing” my knickers moment for him.

I was already amused with myself, so I was caught between giggling and laughing hysterically.

See where I’m going with this? Yeah, I didn’t really nail it.

I only meant to be in that legs-up position a second so he could see that my knickers were the classic bottle-green school ones, but there was one fatal flaw—I couldn’t see a thing because I was laughing so hard, and my chunky thighs were totally in my way.

Then Paul goes, “Don’t move,” and comes over to smack me on my knickers. I was still laughing. It didn’t hurt, his angle was off; plus, since I was in bottle green heavy cotton school knickers, it might have even hurt him more than me.

He said, “Don’t move,” again, and started rummaging through drawers (everything had been scattered on the dining room table over the weekend, but I’d tidied up on Monday before the dog trainer showed up. We do try not to scare the (presumably) vanilla folks.

Paul muttered, “I don’t know where anything is,” and told me to stay put.

I figured he was after our little paddle. Okay, maybe I secretly hoped he was, so I finally said, “I dumped everything in the school desk.”

With my thighs practically covering my face and no glasses on, I couldn’t really see or even hear what was happening. Did I mention I was laughing? I had no clue what he’d grabbed—or that he’d even made it back to the sofa—until that dreaded tawse landed.

[insert picture]

Yeah.

I did move then, but (I think) his left hand was still on my thighs, so instead of escaping I ended up pulling my legs back even further.

I tried not to move but ended up practically (okay, forget the practically) screaming, “Wait, no, no, wait!” as clearly as I could.

After five more screams, it was finally over.

Six of the best.

For now.

There was barely time for a hug and this text before my “back to work” alarm went off.

Now I’m back at my desk trying to work—well, typing this post out first, and then maybe doing some more actual work.

But seriously, that escalated quickly.

 

 

 

 

  • 1
    The academic job letter is the worst writing genre in the world. It manages to both be extremely boring AND incredibly high-stakes stressful at the same time.

About Uniforms Part 1: Introduction – Where Did That #dailyuniform come from?

Posted on By Mija

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Happy February!1This started out as “Happy New Year.” I’ve been working on this damn post since November 2024. Here’s to hoping 2025 is better than we’re expecting.

Think of this as an introduction to a series of posts. The first, hopefully, of many, though frankly, I’ve never been one to finish multi-part stories. But, you know, it could happen so let’s be optimistic

This, much as is the case with spanking, may be a topic I can write about forever.

If you follow me on Twitter or Bluesky, you may have noticed that for several months, I’ve been posting (terrible) selfies wearing school uniforms, sometimes remembering to tag them with what I thought was my own made-up hashtag, #dailyuniform.2But of course, others use it for other stuff, too. Why? Well, frankly, I’ve been in the spanking scene since 1997. Even allowing for ones I’ve given away as my size changed, I’ve got A LOT of uniforms. Why not enjoy them?3Like spanking, uniform kink is a habit for me. The more I do it, the more I think about it, the more I want to indulge. And on and on.

The way I think about uniforms and what they mean to me has several facets. So, let’s get started with my uniform biography.

A bit of the inventory – December 2023 – apologies for the terrible lighting.

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  • 1
    This started out as “Happy New Year.” I’ve been working on this damn post since November 2024.
  • 2
    But of course, others use it for other stuff, too.
  • 3
    Like spanking, uniform kink is a habit for me. The more I do it, the more I think about it, the more I want to indulge. And on and on.

I’m Mija-Again on BlueSky Too

Posted on By Mija

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Happy New Year!

Because The Site Formerly Known as Twitter, where I still have an account as eltercerojo, has become so difficult to use or follow, not to mention the political ego toy of the US’s newest 12-year-old Bond villain overlord, I’ve been playing with BlueSky where I’m mija-again.1I did try Mastadon but haven’t been able to get comfortable there

It’s a lot like Twitter used to be, including allowing third-party readers. As much as the politics of the “X” owner bothers me even more, I find the random shuffle Twitter seems to revert to every time I open it super frustrating. Being able to read my feed chronologically makes “tweeting” (or whatever one does on BlueSky) a lot more fun. It also helps me *stop* reading it.

There’s a fair few spanking folks;  if you’re there, I’d love to see you.

 

  • 1
    I did try Mastadon but haven’t been able to get comfortable there

Recommending: Sips and Smacks

Posted on By Mija

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Adorable logo

Confession:

I’m a binge podcast listener. When I find one I like, especially when it’s one like Sips and Smacks that’s structured as a series of conversations between friends, I tend to go back to the first episode and listen chronologically. The Sips and Smacks podcast is currently perfectly suited for my listening style — there are 90 91 92 93-95 95 1I started this post a while ago. episodes, each about an hour.  That’s not so many that it’s impossible to ever catch up (I’m looking at you, Pen Addict), but more than enough to get a sense of how the show, and especially the relationships between the hosts, and the hosts and their guests, have evolved.

So, in case you haven’t guessed, Sips and Smacks is a podcast about spanking by two women, Adalia and Rex, in spanking / disciplinary relationships with their partners. There’s a heavy focus on both the Daddy/Little Girl and the submissive-domestic discipline2This element makes me feel like the podcast is an extension, or, better yet, maybe an evolution, of the late Punishment Book blog. end of the scene, but in the course of all the episodes, pretty much everything gets covered/touched on.

I found Sips and Smacks in a super embarrassing way….

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  • 1
    I started this post a while ago.
  • 2
    This element makes me feel like the podcast is an extension, or, better yet, maybe an evolution, of the late Punishment Book blog.
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