Images and Living in Fear

When I started this blog it was very much from scratch and I found myself having to spend lots of time trawling the internet for suitable erotic images to add to my posts. (It was a tough job, but someone had to do it!)





That seems a long time ago now as I am now in possession of such reservoirs of arousing images of one sort or another that I quite literally do not know how to keep track of them. I am in fact a surprisingly well organised person, but to set up some sort of index system (E.G. Girls spanked over the knee-knickers on:








girls spanked in stockings - knickers off ;







naked girls spanking other naked girls)







would take a completely disproportionate amount of my time which I could better spend producing another novel.




What I am leading to is that as my collection is entirely random I am aware that from time to time I must be illustrating my posts with images I have used in the past, either way back or even quite recently. If so then I apologise, but as I so often stress, I am only human.

But there is something else I need to share. Most of my images are stored on one or two memory sticks which are the most wonderful things ever invented save for the fact that they are all too easily dropped or mislaid which for someone like me who is obsessive about keeping her private life private is a potential minefield. The thing is, however much time I might take putting on perfumed lingerie before I leave my house ,







and however wanton my behaviour might be in my bedroom when I am seducing whichever beautiful man I’m lucky enough to have enticed up there,





when I am out in public I deliberately present the other side of myself, the quiet bookish and very self contained female who you only realise is actually rather sexy if you make the effort to take a closer look.








My very real fear is that one day that quiet and anonymous Elizabeth will accidentally mislay one of those incendiary memory sticks on, say, a café table and get found out. What a tsunami of exploding phalluses,









masturbating nuns,




and spanked secretaries,







will be discovered by the unsuspecting finder, and how would I ever explain it or live it down?.

One possibility is that suddenly seeing me with different eyes,








the barista will start to have secret fantasies about me,








and free espresso will be mine for life!





The alternative is that I could be taken into a back room and soundly spanked for being such a wicked little minx,






And then forced to work in the kitchen for nothing on pain of my secret being made public.










I’m not denying that in their own way, both of these possibilities have some perverse attraction, but in reality I think the answer is simply to make sure that from now on I make sure to be careful with the damn things!