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Happy New Year folks!

Sorry I wasn't around over Christmas but it is a bad time of the year for me, I was away from home for much of it, and I have been concentrating on trying to get the first part of the new book out.

On the few occasions I HAVE been at home I have been finishing off some artwork in collaboration with Roger Benson for his upcoming book (due out sometime in spring apparently).

Okay, lets move on to something else, to some pictures I stumbled across before Christmas – and the ideas that have been tumbling around in my brain ever since.

When I came across this little confection on Tumblr – home of so much great stuff these days - I just had to share it with you, not just the imagery but also the thoughts that pop up in my head every time I run my eyes over the collection (of which only two pics are presented here).

The website these pics originate from (see bottom of each photo) is actually a fem-dom site, and very good it is too if that's your 'bag' (it isn't mine particularly, but hey, that doesn't mean I don't get ANYTHING out of it!). But as you know MY thing tends to be F/f and F/fff - to use a bit of shorthand - and so in my eyes and my imagination the woman immediately becomes a governess placed in charge of one or more late-teen girls ('late-teens', 'of marriageable age'– I've been criticised for it before, and I hate using the terms. But what else can I do? Any ideas?).

She certainly ticks all the boxes as far as I'm concerned when it comes to how I'm imagine a governess, an image which has formed the basis of so many of the dominant characters in my books in the past, from the tight leather skirt to the fully-fitted stockings.

I'm guessing many, if not most, of you will be imaging this woman's charge as an intractable denim-wearing gum-chewing sort, too big for her boots and practically unmanageable by all but the most extreme means . For me though, on looking over our stern-looking governess, a prerequisite seems to be that the direct opposite should be true of her charge.

Imagine if you will a woman like this placed in charge, not of some boisterous tomboy or rebellious leather-jacketed boy-obsessed hell-raiser, but rather a modest shy bookish sort, the outcome of an over-protective sheltered upbringing and pampered privileged liberal private education. 

The only thing precocious about our precious young thing is her figure, which much to her embarrassment is burgeoning and overly mature for her age and which she attempts to play down with baggy loose pullovers and so on. 

Perhaps the girl is studious, perhaps she wears glasses, too, although still undeniably pretty, even IN spectacles.

I'd like to think she'd be generally well behaved, not at all like most teenagers (though she is just beginning to show signs of finding her feet – thus her guardian's new appointment) and has never given a day's trouble in her life, having mostly been away at boarding school in any case.

I know, I know! How inappropriate could you get?

Who on earth would employ this woman in such a role, a woman who looks more like a professional dominatrix than a governess, you're probably asking yourselves?

Who in their right mind would leave such a naïve quiet bookworm in the hands of such a woman, let alone give her cart blanch over the girl?

Well one of MY many and varied nefarious characters might!

But to me it is the wholly inappropriateness of the woman's appointment that is the root of the excitement. She really is the embodiment of the proverbial use of the iron bar to break the butterfly’s wings.

Think about the poor thing's reaction for a moment, consider how she might react to the news that she won't be returning to the overly relaxed atmosphere of her progressive boarding school for the final year, that now she is old enough to no longer be compelled by law to remain in full-time education her schooling will continue at home, behind closed doors, with this woman as her tutor and governess!  Just imagine her shock, too, on being informed her old nice cosy room with its posters of ponies and show jumpers, her gymkhana rosettes and row upon row of bookshelves and books is now off-limits and that a new room has been set aside for her, high up in the attic.

Looking at our governess, as I am now, I can well imagine that having be told that the girl's school has never required a uniform, nor has the girl ever worn a school uniform at any point in her life, outraged by that establishment's lackadaisical attitude and a sticker for formality herself , she will have been pawing over school wear catalogues. Indeed I can well imagine her, disenchanted by modern offerings, glorying in putting together a school uniform of her own devising, employing a talented seamstress of her acquaintance, taking her time, spending night after night, pen and sketchpad in hand, pawing over vintage catalogues, researching historic archives, picking and choosing what she sees as the best of each of several designs. A pleated skirt taken from one design, obviously, attached to a cross-over open-sided bodice taken from another, teamed with a puff-sleeved stripped blouse taken from yet another fitted with a high, stiff Eaton collar and tie. But no blazer, oh no, she will have decided against that. I think, having come across several pictures of Victorian schoolgirls wearing waist-length capes fastening at the neck, she'll be thinking of opting for a shorter version to top it all off, perhaps coming just a little below the girls buxom-looking bustline. Then fitted out in her new kit she'll have the girl upstairs to deal with her waist-length hair with the aid of a pudding basin and a pair of hairdresser's sheers – yes, she's THAT kind of woman!

So, the question is, am I the only one who'd prefer to such a woman placed in charge of a quiet well behaved bookworm? Or is the consensus in favour of the tomboy or preconscious brat that needs taming? And for either case, how would you imagine she would proceed to stamp her authority? Would there be any difference to her approach to each case, or would both be subject to the short sharp shock routine of a damn good hiding with the cane, strap or hairbrush?

Discuss!