Author Archives: Ariel Anderssen

Humiliation

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Well, alright, the picture doesn’t actually relate to the heading. But I love lense flare and I’m rather keen on the photographer. And, laaaaaa, it’s my blog, hoorah!

Before I start, thank you everyone for your extremely kind and lovely comments, emails and Get Well cards. You’ve helped me through a really weird, painful and frustrating time, and while I’m not sure if I’m on the mend or not at the moment, I’m certainly on less drugs for now, and my head is clear enough to blog.
Righty -ho, here goes. I hope it’s interesting, this is something I’ve been thinking about a lot over the last few weeks, and I’d love to know what other people think.
The reason I’ve started thinking about the subject of humiliation is because over the last few weeks, I’ve not been able to do so much of a lot of the things that make me feel ok about myself. Although I complain about being busy and rushing all over the place working, I really like being booked for lots of different jobs, and I’m proud of being able to do a good job for most of the different people I work for. I like being ok at housework, and I like it when I can cook for the BDM (which has never been all that often, TBH…) I’m quite proud of myself, I guess, for having enough energy to do a 4 hour drive, a day’s work, another 4 hour drive and then get up the next day and do it all over again. And I suppose I was proud of being physically fairly fit.
Having had a couple of months in and out of hospital, resting a lot, and not being able to work full-time has been upsetting and humiliating.
Now there’s no surprise that it’s not been very sexy, but it did remind me how absolutely horrible the feeling of humiliation is. And I wondered to myself, how I could possibly have ever found humiliation hot?
Then I realised, I actually don’t. It’s just that the things that lots of other people would find humiliating don’t happen to have the same effect on me. And this made me very interested.
I suppose being forced to take off your clothes in a roleplay might be awfully humiliating to some people, but I don’t mind being naked, and taking off my clothes feels like a symbol of the exciting things that are likely to happen next. So I have to act humiliated, rather than actually feel it.
Shooting pet-girl training, as I have quite often (most recently for the fab www.petandponygirls.com ) is definitely potentially humiliating, but I find it really relaxing not to have to talk, and I think I’m quite good at being a ponygirl (ego, hello) so I don’t find it humiliating at all.
Spanking (and other types of pain play) certainly doesn’t humiliate me either. Not really (though I enjoy pretending, definitely). I suppose that I actually feel proud rather than humiliated if I’m feeling anything other than scared and turned on…
Corner-time, which is surely specifically designed for humiliation doesn’t really have that effect on me either. I really like imagining that I feel terribly shamed, but I don’t actually mind it. Exposure doesn’t make me feel anything bad at all.
And so the list goes on in my head – all these things which look humiliating from the outside, but are in fact just hugely good fun for me. And I think they’re fun because they’re meant to be humiliating, but just happen not to be for me. Rather than happening to be fun in spite of the fact that some people would find them humiliating.
I wonder if that’d be the same for most other spanking models? I’m sort of guessing so, but some of us might actually genuinely be humiliated by those things, but maybe enjoy them because they are…
Then I thought about things which actually are humiliating for me. In the BDSM context, these include;-
1) Things which are presented to you as though they’ll hurt, and then don’t. Out of politeness, I tend to pretend that they’re really painful anyway, but that does make me feel ridiculous, and therefore humiliated. I’d much rather have the implement that actually hurts than the silly pretend-y Ann Summers version.
2) As I’ve talked about before, lame story lines that don’t match any character I could possibly hope to play successfully. Ohhhhh Lordy, that is genuinely, awfully humiliating.
3) Being tied up, and then given a task to do which is pretty much impossible. It makes me feel clumsy, uncoordinated and therefore humiliated.
4) Pretending to have orgasms. I simply won’t. Humiliating, humiliating, humiliating. I won’t have real ones on-screen either, but that’s for a different reason.
5) Peephole bras and crotchless panties. I don’t know why, but I’d feel hideously humiliated by having to wear them. Nude feels much better to me.
In a non-BDSM context, there’s a longer list. I won’t put everything down, because I think that might be dull. Some of the first that spring to mind are;-
1) Pronouncing words wrong. I quite often do this, having learned lots of words by reading rather than hearing them spoken. Ohhhhh the shame. I still blush if I think about examples from years ago.
2) Not being able to speak other European languages well. The shame! I’d feel much more like a proper international model if I could, but I’m rubbish. And the bits I can say, I don’t dare in case I get the pronunciation wrong.
3) Realising I’m being boring.
And on that note, I’ll jolly well stop.
Thanks for reading, if you’ve got this far!
A/a xx

Medical Fetish?

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Lordy, I’ve had an eventful month. And not altogether in a good way. Do forgive me, I know that blogs aren’t really meant to be diaries, but I want a record of my rather mad NHS experience over the last few weeks, so I’m putting it here (cos I don’t have an actual diary). Hope it may provide entertainment to some of you, somehow. Especially if you maybe have a medical fetish.

In the UK, we have the much-talked-about National Health Service (NHS for short). It provides free healthcare to UK residents, and means that wherever you are in the UK, you can visit a doctor or hospital for free. And good heavens, I’m glad of that, because otherwise I’d be looking at a big old medical bill as a result of the last few weeks.
3 weeks ago, I woke up with a weird abdominal pain. I was shooting a custom video, and then going on to a bondage shoot later that afternoon. So I took some painkillers and did both shoots. At 10pm I finished work, and drove from London to Yorkshire for a shoot the next day. I arrived at my hotel at about 1am, feeling kind of ill, and went to bed. The next day I was still in pain, so I went to my lingerie shoot, took painkillers, and decided to go to hospital on the way to my next shoot (which was further up North).
I arrived with the lovely http://www.petandponygirls.com/ who kindly drove me to their nearest emergency healthcare centre (which isn’t a hospital, it’s like a little mini clinic for minor illness). DOCTOR NUMBER 1, I have to say, was really rubbish. He poked at my tummy, told me I was ‘probably ok’ and told me to take painkillers. Which wasn’t all that reassuring. So I returned to the Pet and Ponygirl studio, took some painkillers, and went to bed.
I shot with them for 2 days, which was, as always, lovely, but passed in a kind of blur of pain. When the shoot was over, I drove down to the Midlands to stay with my sister. She helped me make an appointment with her local GP for the next day.
DOCTOR NUMBER 2 was really kind. She said she couldn’t really help much unless I stayed in the area for tests, but suggested…. painkillers.
Later that afternoon, the pain was worse, so I telephoned the national medical helpline thing. Which is notoriously hopeless, but they were also very kind, and suggested another emergency clinic I could visit.
DOCTOR NUMBER 3 was also very kind. She suggested that maybe I’d picked up an infection on location (I do work in some extraordinarily grubby places) and gave me an antibiotic. I was very, very happy.
The next day, I drove West to meet up with the BDM for a big, week-long location shoot for http://www.restrainedelegance.com . There were multiple models arriving, and a big crew. I was meant to be both (whoop, am enjoying learning to rig!) Two days in, I was in more pain, so the BDM took me to hospital after we’d finished work for the day (thank you, and I’m so sorry to the models and crew who we abandoned for the evening)
DOCTOR NUMBER 4 thought I should be properly examined so kept me in hospital for a few hours. After doing blood tests they weren’t sure what was wrong, so gave me another antibiotic. Which I was very grateful for, but started to wonder whether it was actually going to help.
We finished our shoot, I managed to model on the last day (painkillers!) and we set off to celebrate the BDM’s birthday at a hotel I’d booked near to the UK Space Centre, which we were visiting the next day. By midnight, I was in so much pain that the BDM called an ambulance and we went to hospital again….
DOCTOR NUMBER 5 decided I should have an ultrasound scan, so I stayed in hospital overnight, and had a scan the next morning. It didn’t work properly, and they didn’t have the equipment to do all the tests they needed to do, so they sent me home, and said they’d send me an appointment through the post. We drove back home (no Space Centre visit, boo) and I went to bed with some painkillers.
Two days later, the pain was so bad (and spreading, rather alarmingly, upwards) that the BDM took me to our local hospital’s emergency department. DOCTOR NUMBER 6 took blood tests (I hate them, HATE THEM) and was, I’m sorry to say, not very helpful. She went off to talk to someone more senior, and came back to say that I should, umm, take painkillers. And that my brain might be sending random pain signals to my abdomen for no reason, and that it might stop on it’s own. I started to feel rather despairing, especially because the BDM’s birthday party was the next day, and we were having lots of people to stay….
At lunchtime the next day, the painkillers weren’t working, and after hiding from the birthday party for a couple of hours I went back to hospital (this time, in case it’s useful for you in the future, to the out-of-hours GP service). Thank heavens for DOCTOR NUMBER 7. She got me admitted to hospital properly, and after being there for a couple of days, they discovered a ruptured ovarian cyst. I was so, so relieved that there was a reason for all the pain, and very grateful that I didn’t have to pay for all those hospital visits. I’m a bit disappointed that it took so many visits before someone helped properly – I’m not fabulously assertive, but I’m thinking that if I’d been even less so, I might still be at home, taking painkillers and being scared of bothering any more doctors.
Thank you, and sorry to the following people;-
To Pet-and-Ponygirls.com for taking me to a doctor in the first place, and for a shoot that managed to still be fun despite not being super well. I do hope the videos don’t reflect that.
To my sister, who was lovely, as always, and helped me find telephone numbers.
To all the models and crew on the Restrained Elegance shoot, who were fab to work with, and forgiving of my regular disappearances. Thanks for still letting me tie you up, Sophia, Janey and Fi.
To the staff of Coventry University Hospital (who, I’m thinking, probably don’t read this blog)
To my friend P, who’d booked me for a spanking shoot, and couldn’t have been kinder about reassuring me that it was ok to cancel. I’m so sorry, especially since you’d worked on a lovely script.
To my friend J, who was also fabulous about my letting him down at pretty short notice. Thank you again for your concern and courtesy.
To all the other photographers and models who’ve missed shoots because of me this week and next week. Thank you for being so generous about it, and I hope not to let you down again.
To the crew of http://www.firmhandspanking.com who’d assembled a cast and location for our shoot next week. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, and thank you for not insisting we go ahead with the shoot.
To my Mum (who also probably doesn’t read this blog, but you never know!) who abandoned her goats, dogs, husband, and house move to come and visit me in hospital.
To the staff of the Royal Berkshire Hospital, for not just sending me home with more painkillers, and giving me so much jam sponge and custard. Brilliant!
To everyone who sent texts, emails and cards. I didn’t tell anyone I didn’t have to for work reasons, because I was too upset and scared, so sorry to everyone I didn’t contact.
And finally, thank you to the BDM, who’s shoot I disrupted, who’s birthday I ruined, who’s party I missed, and who’s driven me from hospital to hospital, always being calm and rational. And who’s suspended all dom-lyness in order to be the best sort of boyfriend for a rather weepy, ill girlfriend.
I’m still on drugs, but hopefully on the mend, and shall post again when I’m ok. Sorry for the non-hot post!

A Story in Norway

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Once upon a time, a fetish producer called Dr BDM decided it’d be a good idea to take a couple of models to the north of Norway for a bondage shoot. He thought the light would be good, the scenary would be spectacular, and that we’d get bondage shots of a sort that hadn’t been seen before.

He chose two models who were fortunately mostly fairly jolly about having to take their clothes off in close-to-freezing conditions. They did insist on keeping their clothes on until the very last minute though, which meant that anyone doing the rigging had to kind of crawl inside their clothes to do so. The models didn’t really care, they were too busy singing.

The result was that we made some pictures that we’re all really proud of – with a sort of over-blown, epic quality, that some of us (mmmmmmmmmmmm) fantasise about quite a lot. I do love drama.

And I did my best to match my outfits to the country’s flag. This gave me an entirely non-fetish related thrill, and I’m hoping the tourist board might possibly be interested in sharing some of our pictures?

Thank you to the BDM for taking me on the most exciting and uncomfortable bondage trip ever, to Steve the super assistant photographer and rigger, and to the gorgeous, giddy, fabulous Katy Cee for being a splendily, giddily fun model to work with (and for building a tent out of reflectors with me)

Whoop!

Ariel xx

All So Unfair

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Here is a picture of a nice, helpful, proficient nurse being spanked (at http://www.spanked-in-uniform.com/ – go and have a look!). It’s fair enough really, she forgot to wear her hat. She had to put it on again before she got spanked, naturally.

Now, I suppose you could argue that it’s a bit harsh to use corporal punishment for such a minor infringement of rules, but I didn’t feel as though I was being abused. However, I have been thinking recently about my emotional comfort zones relating to CP roleplay. The reason for this is that when I go to spanking shoots, it’s very easy to establish ground rules about some things (like levels of nudity, severity, and payment) but awfully tricky to negotiate the more subtle elements of the planned scenes.

So, these days, I turn up at my CP shoots safe in the knowledge that the following;-

1) Tops who know what they’re doing

2) Clean implements

3) Safewords

4) Respectful, non-gyno camera angles

will be in place. Mainly because the people I work with now are lovely, and wouldn’t dream of allowing anything dangerous or distasteful to happen.

However, I find it much, much harder to establish emotional limits. I think this is partly because they’re too subtle for me to express properly without sounding like a diva. For example, here’s a list of things I’ve found upsetting/a bit yukky during various CP shoots;-

a) a ‘headmaster’ who tried to touch my breasts. Hmmmm. Easy to avoid in future by insisting that school scenes have to be strictly disciplinary and non-sexual (which I thought everyone already knew anyway, TBH)

b) a ‘teacher’ who continually called me stupid (bad teaching, I think!) Which was much trickier to know how to deal with, for me. I didn’t like being called stupid, I felt as though he was calling me, the ACTRESS stupid, rather than my character (poor chap probably REALLY wasn’t). And since my poor character had to keep making mistakes in order to let the scene continue, I started to feel rather annoyed. But on another occasion, with a different actor, I was totally happy to be called stupid a lot; and just rather enjoyed feeling like a martyr. So I can’t actually tell people the word ‘stupid’ is off limits, because it isn’t really.

c) having my bottom rubbed in between smacks in school or domestic, non-sexual scenes. It just seems a bit odd, and rather salacious, frankly. Obviously if it’s a romantic, husband/wife or consenting-adults kind of scene then it can look (and feel) perfectly normal. But if I’m meant to be hating the spanking, and the Top isn’t meant to be enjoying administering it, then it feels a bit ikky. Again, really tricky to explain without sounding rude, stand-offish and rather prudish.

d) suddenly being directed to act aroused by the spanking. Again, I’m totally fine with that in the right scenario – it seems like a nice, and truthful thing to show. But in a scene where the Top is meant to be angry with me, it would look and feel really emotionally miss-matched if I started writhing round in ecstasy, surely? Urgh, a bit complicated to express, because I’m actually happy with being upset at being punished, or delighted by being spanked, but not all in one scene.

e) Being asked to say things which I think sound lame, and/or contrived. I like to maintain control over the things my character says. Which, frankly, IS rather diva-ish, and isn’t a privilege I could have hoped to enjoy while I was a mainstream actress. But because CP films demand a fair amount of effort from their actors in terms of improvisation, the diva part of me feels that with the extra responsibility for carrying the story should come the extra power of veto-ing lines that don’t feel right for the character I’m playing. Therefore my Naval Officers will never bleat ‘ohhh, Sir, not on my BARE bottom!’ my spoilt Wives won’t clench their jaws and vow ‘I’ll never tell, you’ll have to kill me first’ and my Schoolgirls will never purr ‘oooh, Sir, you’re making me feel really hot…..’ Because I say so.
The complexity is added to by the fact that, from time to time, I very much enjoy shooting very weird stuff. The following;-
Being flogged for being a witch even though I WASN’T
Enduring a judicial caning for drug smuggling when I was innocent
Being repeatedly called a stupid girl by my wicked uncle who didn’t understand women’s rights
Being WOKEN UP, spanked and caned by my private tutor who didn’t think much of my understanding of structural engineering
Receiving an 18 stroke caning from the BDM last night just because he FELT like it
all seemed perfectly fair, fun and reasonable. Not forgetting the nurse who didn’t like wearing her hat.
My only defence (and I need one, at least for myself) is that spanking modelling has always been something I do primarily for fun, as a kind of present to myself between more mainstream modelling jobs. So, although one should probably be prepared to take the rough with the smooth at work; perhaps it’s also OK to have some guidelines that are nothing to do with health and safety.