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New Year's Eve

Posted at 12:39 on 3 Jan 2009 by Pandora / Blake

I didn't get to spend New Year's Eve the way I wanted.

For a start, I wasn't able to be with both my boys. Tom works in the hospitality industry, and he had to stay at work past midnight. I decided to go along and keep him company, but we were surrounded by the other guests, and his boss and co-workers, so there was no opportunity for privacy.

What I'd have liked, if we could have stayed at home, would be to ring in the New Year with twelve cane strokes. Each in time with the chime of midnight. Perhaps, for extra dramatic effect, we'd have the BBC on in the background, and the strokes would fall in time with the ringing of Big Ben. Or perhaps he'd keep time himself. I've written about the concept of a caning clock before, and I like the idea of using the emotional curve of a caning to more powerfully mark the changing of the years. How much more acute would the anticipation be, in the countdown to midnight, knowing what was coming? How intense would it be, flying into the new year on a wave of endorphins, snuggled and content in the aftermath of a punishment well-taken? What better way of cleansing oneself of those aspects of 2008 one would rather leave behind?

Sadly, this year it was not to be. At midnight we enjoyed a toast and a kiss, and saved the play until the next day, once we'd had some sleep. I'm hoping to write about that in more detail tomorrow, but until then this should give you an idea of how much fun we had:



I'm not the first person to think the idea of a midnight caning is hot. Abel from the Spanking Writers had a similar idea, and Prefectdt posted a cute caning clip to mark the ten-second countdown to midnight. And if you're interested in cleansing rituals, Olivia has written a beautiful post about her own personal traditions.

I'm looking forward to being able to start my own.

Keep reading »

Tags: Fantasies, kink, Photos, seasonal spankings, Thomas Cameron

8 comments

Fear and forgetfulness

Posted at 21:10 on 5 Jan 2009 by Pandora / Blake

I was originally planning to tell you about the whipping Tom gave me on New Year's Day, in the spirit of starting the year as you mean to continue. But we've played again since then and, to my dismay, the scenes are already blurring together in my memory.

Two scenes in one week is less common for us than you might imagine. 2008 was a difficult year in many ways, and health problems, work, house moves have all got in the way of kinky activities. Not that our relationship has suffered - we've always been very good at looking after each other, and the last few months have seen a lot of cooking and relaxing together, gentle spankings and snuggling. And all that is lovely. But we've both missed the other stuff. Since we first hooked up six years ago our relationship has been defined by the breathtaking intensity we can achieve together, the severity we both crave.

Tom is an extremely careful and responsible dominant. He would much rather wait than risk a scene when he's exhausted and his judgement might be impaired. So we've been waiting, and for the most part he's been much more patient than I have.

Now that, gradually, we're rediscovering our energy; now that we're finding a space we can play in, re-awarkening the spark that was always there, it's a source of joy to us both. And it's scary, at least for me.

Not at the time, not really. He knows me very well. When we started on the first morning of the new year, he began by kissing me down the length of my body, a kiss that built slowly to a deeply satisfying orgasm that left me smiling and languorous. I had sleepily started to return the favour when he told me to set up the pillows in the middle of the bed, and in my soft, contented state it didn't even occur to me to be frightened.

He was gentle with me, at first. He started with a thin bamboo switch, playing it rapidly over my bottom and thighs in a way that only tingled at first, the sensation building so lightly that it didn't panic me. I stayed relaxed, only moaning more deeply as the flickering switch started to cut more deeply.

I can't remember exactly what was next. At one point he cropped me, a slow series of hard strokes that covered every heated inch of my bottom. At another he definitely paddled me, and I think it was because I'd started to shrink away from the sharper pain, my will rising like bile and coming between us. He was kind, and the paddle achieved the effect he was after - I stopped fighting back, accepting the pain and letting it wash over me.

Sorry for the poor quality, but I do like the perfect crop mark in this, just at the top of my left thigh.

The final implement that day was the martinet, with the thick square-tipped leather thongs that are terrifyingly heavy if used with full force. The ends whip around and strike the soft sides of the flank as if bullets were sewn into them. He started with it after the crop, but I twitched away from the sensation, unable to relax into it. The scattered peppering of the tips bit into me seemingly at random, and all the warmth the crop had wakened in me seemed to flee. I shied away, plaintive and frightened. And he was merciful, and followed my lead when I suggested the paddle. The even, solid sensation of the wood after the stinging, difficult martinet was strangely soothing.

But he returned to the martinet afterwards, with 24 heavy strokes. I remember not liking those, either, but it was easier to submit to them gracefully after he'd granted my request for the paddle.

The other scene, too, started with a switching - the plastic cat toy, although at first I thought it was one of our thin canes. That evening it was the heavy leather strap that made me flinch away, made him tone down his strokes to ones I could manage. I was disappointed, afterwards, that he hadn't continued at the heavier pace, but we both knew that I would have rebelled and it would have been miserable. He caned me, afterwards, and it was delicious, but I was tormented by the knowledge that he'd gone easy on me - and, worse, that if he hadn't I wouldn't have been able to cope.

We ended up talking about it a few days later, about the depth of my submission to him these days, how my growing adult independence and the difficulties of last year - among other things - have affected how much I'm able to give him. I think spanking modelling is a part of it, too.

When we're playing, nowadays, I'm less interested in what he wants and much more focussed on my own needs. If I crave a particular sensation, my body is stubborn and he can't easily persuade me to enjoy something I'm not in the mood for. And that isn't how it should be. What he wants should be enough; it should be arousing by the simple fact of it being him that wants it. Of course I trust him not to go beyond my limits. I'm talking here about my mercuriality, my moodiness, my desire to stay in control of what's happening. I'm working on changing it. The conversation we had about this was positive, if difficult. I'm still learning how to submit as an adult as deeply as I did when I was a teenager, but without the unhealthy elements of obsession and dependence which coloured our relationship then.

And re-learning how to give a scene to him, after years of building up my professional self-knowledge and control, is hard. When I'm filming I have a responsibility to my top to stay in control of myself, to be aware of my limits. When I'm subbing, I explicitly surrender that responsibility. Or at least, I should.

I want to learn to let go again. I miss the euphoria and intimacy of total surrender. I miss being able to fly. But it's a big emotional leap, and we're both nervous about whether I'll be able to make it.

Playing long, erotic scenes that re-awaken my senses definitely helps. Remembering how hot pain can be definitely helps. But Tom's gentleness is predicated partly on my reluctance to let him push me. The fact that, in both of the scenes this week, I was never truly frightened is not necessarily a good thing. I need to be frightened again; I need to trust him to take me places I hadn't necessarily planned for, and carry me through them. Hot as they are, the scenes tailored to my enjoyment will never really be enough.

Keep reading »

Tags: cat toy switch, dominance and submission, kink, martinet, meta-analysis, paddle, Photos, riding crop, switch, Thomas Cameron

6 comments

to the east

Posted at 14:14 on 6 Jan 2009 by Pandora / Blake

Today I'm flying to Bratislava for a two day shoot with SpankingServer/Pain4Fem, accompanied by the delectable Amy Hunter. I've filled a suitcase with dresses, lingerie, tartan miniskirts, school uniform, over-knee socks and dozens and dozens of knickers. I've packed aloe vera gel, vitamin E cream, hairbands and a European adaptor for my phone charger. I've showered and shaved and moisturised, and dressed in comfortable warm clothes for travelling. (I always forget how aggressive the air conditioning is on planes.) I've got a couple of novels to read, and a notebook and pen for keeping notes for the blog.

I've been nervous about this shoot for over a month. Spanking Server are, according to Niki Flynn who is the only person I know to have worked with them, absolutely lovely, and I've re-read the chapter in her book about filming The Spy with them. We aren't attempting anything so ambitious, although I'm taking all of your suggestions with me in case they're open to ideas. However, I know that they pay by the stroke, with different rates for "hard" and "very hard". I know from Nikis' boyfriend Cameron that the four "very hard" strokes she received at the end of her forty-or-so-stroke caning were the hardest strokes he had ever seen delivered by anyone. So I don't know if I'm going to be asking for any of those. Even forty hard strokes sounds like an awful lot to me, who hasn't been playing much these last few months.

So I've been nervous as all hell. I've been nervous about the long caning in the full-length film. I've been nervous about language barrier, not speaking German or Czech. I've been nervous about the lack of info I have about the film, because it always helps if I'm able to prepare.

But all that nervousness seemed to burn away at the start of this week, when the shoot stopped being an abstract looming concept and became the work I was doing in the next few days. I've been sorting out travel plans, working out where I'm staying after our train gets back into London in the middle of Thursday night.

I was talking to Tom about this last night, and the thing is that I know it's always okay on the day. We'll have a whole day of clips before the longer film, and I know I can do clips, I'm not afraid of those. I'll be thoroughly warmed up by the time it gets tough. I'll have Amy there for moral support and someone to chat to in English, and if she can do it then I reckon I have a fair chance at coping.

And I know that the first ten strokes of the hard caning will be the worst. They always are. But the next twenty, or thirty, or however many it is - by then the endorphins should have started to flow, and maybe three or four 'very hard' strokes won't be beyond me after all, by the end.

Two and a half years ago I flew out to Mallorca for my second ever spanking shoot. I was travelling alone to meet people I'd only briefly communicated with by email. They mostly spoke German, and put me up in a hostel on my own for the night. The shoot was with Girls Boarding School, the couple who run the site with were wonderful, friendly, supportive people who were a joy to work with, and everything was fine. I don't even remember being scared beforehand, although I suppose I must have been. I remember it being an adventure.

If I could do that, younger and inexperienced with only one short clips shoot to my name, then I can do this.

See you on the flipside.

Keep reading »

Tags: Amy Hunter, learning curves, Pain4Fem

7 comments

spanking over slips

Posted at 13:47 on 7 Jan 2009 by Pandora / Blake

Slips seem to be coming back into fashion. I don't usually wear them myself, unless I'm dressing up in Victorian attire, in which case it's a full-length petticoat. But I know an increasing number of young ladies who are rediscovering the joys of a full-length slip or chemise under dresses, or a half-slip under kneelength skirts.

Strangely, despite the increase in mainstream popularity I haven't seen many slips featured in spanking photos. You'd think that spankos would be taking the lead on the resurgence of the slip (and if this thread is anything to go by, some of you certainly do). Consider the slow reveal of most spanking porn, which is so popular it's become cliche: first, the innocent spanking over the skirt, chaste enough for any realistic teacher/schoolgirl or daddy/daughter scenario. Then, more humiliatingly, over panties - full panties, of course, never a thong, or else this stage would be meaningless. The exposure of the bare bottom is made more powerful by anticipation, both to the spankee and the viewer. We like full knickers because of their old-fashioned innocence, the way they flatter and support the shape of the ass, the way they take the edge off a the sharpest smacks and leave total nudity to the imagination. We like all these things as a prelude to the end-game of bare bottom punishment, and as a game in themselves.

Slips have all of that old-world glamour, and they add an extra layer of mystique to the undressing process. They peep seductively under the hems of skirts, adding a tantalising glimpse of satiny lingerie. Does the colour and fabric of the slip one can see peeking out just above the knee match the panties hidden underneath? A girl wearing a slip is suddenly a lady - which makes turning her into a girl again with a spanking all the more profound. Slips feel silky and sensual to the wearer and, in this coldest of winters, provide a much-needed extra layer of insulation. Surely they're the ideal spanko garment.

So where are the shoots featuring spanking over slips? Is this a niche that needs to be filled?

Keep reading »

Tags: making a scene, other pictures

16 comments

aftermath

Posted at 14:48 on 9 Jan 2009 by Pandora / Blake

Well, we did it.

We got home at 2am last night, after an extremely uncomfortable plane journey, landing in the UK in freezing fog at midnight and having to get a chilly night train to London. At 10am this morning I was in the office, where I'm currently doing part-time contract work. I ache all over, and desperately want to just curl up under a duvet. Preferably without putting any weight on my bottom.

Two long days of punishment, incorporating the famous whipping machine, falaka, breast whipping and much more back whipping than I'm used to, and culminating in the hardest cold caning of my life. 35 strokes, the last three of which were the infamous "very hard" option, which is in no way an exaggeration. My bottom is a delightfully gruesome sight, particularly the bloody welt from the last stroke which landed a clear inch above the rest, and was possibly the hardest stroke of all.

Immediately after we finished filming - photo by Amy

Immediately after we finished filming - photo by Amy

I'm already a bit obsessed with the marks, and sneak a peak in the bathroom mirror every time I go to the loo to see how the bruises are developing. I'm hard to mark these days, and these bruises are reminding me pleasantly of the result of my first few hard play sessions, back when Tom and I had just met.

Immediately after filming my bottom was red and pink and purple, with huge, solid slabs of bruise starting to swell under the skin. I was shocked when I caught sight of it in the mirror a couple of hours later at the dramatic black and blue colours that were starting to cover my entire ass. I ran back into the bedroom and got Amy to take another photo:



They were even more impressive this morning, the blacks and purples blossoming outwards to cover my entire cheeks, leaving a strange pale patch in the centre of each.

For the four hours of travelling the discomfort wasn't even sexy. I was shattered, and as the dopamine crash started to hit I felt like I was falling apart. Tears welled up for no reason, my hands were shaking and I desperately wanted a cuddle. I was amazed at Amy's composure, how calmly she was coping when surely she was hurting just as much as I was. I felt like one massive bruise, and had to restrain myself from continually whinging about it.

I still haven't had enough sleep, and today the dull ache in my backside is still not sexy, but I'm too tired to be annoyed about it. I'm focussing on work and looking forward to seeing Tom tonight for some slightly belated aftercare.

It's strange. The caning itself was an extreme, amazing experience. I felt pushed absolutely to my limits as an actress and a masochist. I can't remember ever screaming that intensely before. There was no space for moderating my responses; I got myself into character and from there it was pretty much completely involuntary. And at the time, it wasn't erotic. Not in the way the breast whipping the day before had been erotic, twisting my hips and pressing my thighs together to try to disguise my arousal. I didn't even think to notice whether or not I was wet after the caning. The experience transcended lust.

And yet ... even though the dull ache as I sit is more exhausting than erotic, even though I'm still short of sleep after the last two days and desperately looking forward to the weekend, even though I'm distracted by work ... when my memory flicks back to the caning, which I haven't really started to emotionally process yet, my body responds with an involuntary flicker of heat. I may not have been aroused at the time, but the whole experience of it was sexually charged, if only because of how frightened I was, and the memory of it is definitely hot. I imagine that as I achieve more distance from the event I'll find the memories even hotter. If anything, the continued dull pain of the bruising is inhibiting my arousal rather than contributing to it.

I was almost sick with nerves beforehand. I sent Tom a worried text, asking for reassurance, and he replied with this:

You will be fine: not only are you professional, you are also a horny wench :) I love you, and will be very proud of you. *cuddles*

I am very lucky to have someone who knows me that well, who knows exactly what to say to calm me and strengthen my resolve. As I was fastened to the caning block a part of my brain focussed on Tom, on what he would think when he watched the film, whether he'd be proud of how I took it. I very much wanted him to be, and holding that in mind helped more than I can say.

Keep reading »

Tags: Amy Hunter, learning curves, Pain4Fem, Photos, shoot writeups, Thomas Cameron

21 comments

severity and intimacy

Posted at 16:43 on 10 Jan 2009 by Pandora / Blake

Thankfully, I feel much less traumatised today. I got through work okay yesterday, but as I left the building at 6 o' clock my exhaustion seemed to roll over me like a wave. I was overwhelmed by the awareness that I'd struggled through the last three days without any real aftercare; I was freezing cold, my butt had been aching all day and as I stood up from my desk the blood seemed to flow back into the bruises and make them throb all the more ... within a minute I was shaking and tears were rolling down my cheeks.

Luckily my friend J lives round the corner from my office. He is not only a wonderful man but also an experienced Dom and sometime play partner of mine, and he only had to take one look at me to know exactly what I needed. One cup of tea with two sugars and a very warm bear-hug later, I was feeling a bit more normal and telling him all about the shoot. He stayed with me for twenty minutes even though he was due somewhere, bless him. By the time he left I was back in control, and could cope with getting myself and my suitcase home on a rush-hour London bus.

The benefits of having good friends who Get It. I'm a lucky girl.

I arrived home to a very attention-deprived cat, a cold flat and a frozen water system, but Tom turned up shortly afterwards and made everything better (including my plumbing, which was above and beyond the call of duty). He gave me cuddles, made me tea and a hot water bottle, and even went out in the cold by himself to bring back takeout. I settled down to a warm cat rapturously re-familiarising herself with my lap, and an evening with nothing planned but snuggling and watching DVDs. Perfect.

I didn't even know where to start with telling Tom about the shoot, so I showed him my most recent post, and my marks. He bent down behind me, casting an appraising eye over my bottom.

"Yup," he grinned, "that's a good start."

"Impressive, aren't they? And I don't even mark much these days!"

"That's because you don't let me hit you hard enough."

My lower lip wobbled a bit at that, but I didn't say anything because I knew what he meant. I don't want the hardest beatings I get in my life to all be from other people either.

This shoot was a huge event for me. Ever since I first started making spanking films I've been aware of the hard caners: Lupus Spanking, Mood Pictures, Pain4fem. Niki Flynn is one of the first friends I made in the scene, and since hearing about her experiences with Lupus the question has been on the edge of my mind; is this something I could do?

I remember watching my first Lupus DVD with Niki and Cameron - The Noise. It's one of the ones that has an hour of story and build-up before the two brutal, swift 50-stroke canings at the end. It also taps into one of my favourite kinky narratives, that of the human spirit flourishing in an oppressive regime - and, naturally, the human body being severely punished for the rebellion. I had my heart in my mouth for most of the film, particularly the prologue and the part leading up to the caning, where the girls look through the record books of previous punishments, full of clinical and grisly "before" and "after" pictures.

I didn't find the actual caning in The Noise erotic. I watched with a mixture of detachment and horrified fascination. My natural reaction when faced by something sensationalistically awful is to withdraw, to watch it with more curiosity than emotional engagement. But the fear and anticipation beforehand? That was hot.

I'm still not sure if I'd like to work with Lupus. I love the richness and detail of their films, I love their political narratives and sense of humour, and after Pain4fem I'm pretty sure I could take it. But I'm still not sure. For one thing - and this may make me sound mercenary but it's a practical concern - their fee isn't really high enough to cover the amount of time I'd need to take off work afterwards. Pain4fem pay by the stroke, which adds up to more than my usual rate over two days (even after paying an unexpected 45 excess baggage charge!). I'm grateful for it, because I think I'll need to spend a fair amount of the next week processing the experience and writing about it. And, of course, I'm not going to be able to model again until I've healed.

If my plans this year come off and I start filming my own material, then it doesn't really make sense for me to be marked for six weeks unless the resulting film is one of my own.

So this caning was a huge milestone for me. It's something I've been eyeing from a distance for years, wondering if I can do it. I'd like to work for Pain4fem again, and they've invited Amy and me back in the autumn if we're interested. But after that, I doubt I'll push myself to this level unless I'm producing the film myself. And I think that's going to be Tom's only opportunity to take me this far while I've still got a career in spanking.

Even then, submitting to this level of caning from him would be a hugely different experience. It wouldn't be brutal. He wouldn't want me screaming and yelling in outrage, or crying and miserable. We might be on camera, but I think he'd still want it to be deep and true and connected. I think he'd still want to make me fly.

This experience was nothing like that. I was doing this entirely for myself. Peter is lovely, professional, and an extremely accurate top, but there was no intimacy shared between us. Not even the friendly, flirty connection I enjoy when working with tops like Paul Kennedy or Stephen Lewis. During the caning I wasn't responding to Peter; my emotional landscape was wholly internal. Apart from encouraging myself to be brave with thoughts of Tom, I wasn't submissive and I wasn't giving anything to anyone.

That fact allowed me to immerse myself for the first time in the more brutal range of my fantasies. My character was sullen, angry, rebellious. I had to sit and watch Amy's caning on camera, which I didn't want to do - I wanted to wrap up warm and sip a drink and recover from the 15 fierce lashes of the singletail I'd just received on my back. I know that people watching spanking films want the girl watching a punishment to react with horror, fear and anticipation written on her face. Well, I was tired and I wanted a break, and my character intended to give her tormentors as little satisfaction as she could. And, as I said earlier, emotional detachment is my natural response anyway to watching something deliberately traumatic. So I hugged my knees and stared blankly into space, trying to block out the cracks of the cane and Amy's impressively hysterical weeping. Curiousity got the better of me a couple of times, when we paused between takes, and I wandered round to get a look at the welts, which were long and red and angry-looking. But once Amy's punishment started, the dread which had been eating at me for days had fled. I just wanted to get it over with.

So I wasn't submissive during the caning. I broke, after a few strokes; I had no desire to brazen the whole thing out even if I could have, and I'd decided to let my willpower crack at pretty much its own pace. I wasn't performing for anyone. I stared straight ahead of me between strokes, and found it extremely difficult to interact with anyone when they paused filming to give me a break. I didn't yelp, I yelled - or, on the hardest strokes, screamed with rage and pain. And I got to fully immerse myself in the kind of truly brutal, miserable, unfair punishment I've fantasised about my whole life.

I don't think I could ever achieve that space with Tom; our dynamic is too loving. This caning was cold and hard and clinical and I took it in isolation. That was a massive part of the experience, for me, and I don't think I'm going to want to re-live it more than once or twice.

I was going to tell you more details about the shoot, but that can wait for another entry. In the meantime, here are last night's Bruise Update photos:



Keep reading »

Tags: Amy Hunter, J, Lupus Spanking, meta-analysis, Pain4Fem, shoot writeups, Thomas Cameron

15 comments

Reactions

Posted at 20:21 on 11 Jan 2009 by Pandora / Blake

I arrived at D's house to find him re-decorating. "What do you think of this as a spanking tool?" he quipped, holding up the long, thin metal plate that had been holding down the carpet at the doorframe. I looked at him. "Er, not at the moment, obviously," he added, hurriedly.

He'd been up a ladder when I arrived, but I begged a hug a little while later as he came out of the bathroom. He burrowed his face affectionately into my neck and his hands dropped almost automatically to cup my bottom. Then he checked himself, and gestured from my waist to my thigh. "Let me guess, you're untouchable from here to here, right?"

"Not totally untouchable, just don't squeeze!"

D, like several of you lot, doesn't really get the whole severity thing. He's more interested in sensation, control, mind-games. He prefers to make me shivering and vulnerable to the lightest of touches, amd then use pain in the subtlest of ways. As a result he doesn't appreciate heavy marking in the way Tom and I do. For me it's a badge of honour: for D it seems injurious, something distasteful and forlorn. I was prepared for him to be a bit freaked out by it, but he surprised me.

"Can I borrow your aloe?" I asked, and knelt up on his bed to apply it myself. I figured he wasn't going to appreciate being asked to do it for me. Afterwards I curled on my side with a contented sigh, glad to be lying down again after an evening helping him with DIY.

"Go on then, let's have a look," he said, in a tone of voice I couldn't quite interpret. I obligingly rolled over for him and he leaned over me, his fingertips lightly brushing my flanks. "Eh, you've had worse," he commented nonchalantly.

"Yes, but I was much younger then, and hadn't started doing this professionally ..." I trailed off; he had bent his head and was dropping the lightest of butterly kisses on every welt.

(As I was writing the above, my phone rang: it was D. "Have you taken your arnica?" he asked. I'd mentioned to him earlier that Amy and Lucy, bless them, had been on my case about forgetting to take it. I assured him I had: it was one of the first things I did when I got home. "Good girl," he said, "I had an alarm set on my phone to remind me to tell you to take it. See how much I love you?"

Yeah. Yeah, I do.)

--

Since yesterday I've been perpetually horny. I keep thinking about spankings. About what it would be like to be spanked, now, to see how much reaction could be triggered by the lightest of taps. The way I feel right now, I'd moan and beg for more. I'm nervous about asking either of my Doms to put me over their knee because I don't know how easy I'd be to damage right now: the last thing I want to come out of this experience with is my first weak spot. And don't worry, I'm not planning to ask for anything high-impact. But hands... I keep thinking (despite my comment to D) about hands on my bum, squeezing and fondling ... I keep thinking of my tender, bruised cheeks being exposed for the most sensual of spankings, every other smack interspersed with gentle caresses. I keep thinking, when else am I going to get the chance to know what that feels like?

I guess this is where you frighten me with warnings about permanent damage, tell me not to be so silly. Maybe I just need to be patient. I don't know though, patience has never been one of my strengths :)

Keep reading »

Tags: D, dominance and submission, Fantasies

6 comments

carry a big stick

Posted at 22:58 on 14 Jan 2009 by Pandora / Blake

I'm healing nicely, if by "nicely" you're referring to scabs and itching. The bruises are getting that old look, and I think the last stroke might leave a scar. At least, it's starting to look like one of those pasted-on fake wounds. Make that sexy if you can. ;)

Speaking of welts, how's this for a vintage spanking photo:



I love the classic Victorian "chained beauties" theme - it seems to have such an innocence to it, despite the total lack of innocence implicit in voluptuous naked girls being photographed bound and helpless. But one has to wonder if this photographer was genuinely into caning girls. At the very least the person in charge of props seems to have got the wrong end of the stick. As it were.

Pain4Fem gave us a choice of canes: 10mm or 12mm, peeled or not peeled (Amy tested them out and voted for unpeeled; I said I'd have what she was having. I may have still been slightly dazed by the sight of Amy thrashing the air in the studio with full force). And one huge rod the size of a walking stick, easily 18mm or 20mm across. Peter laughed about it but we weren't entirely sure whether it was a joke or not.

I've been hit by something that thickness before, and not with the kind of power that we were subject to in our judicial punishments. This domme appears to be using it with a gentle wrist action. I can tell you now, something that size would never leave neat little welts like that.

Keep reading »

Tags: other pictures, those crazy kinksters, Victoriana, Vintage

5 comments

amateur dramatics

Posted at 16:31 on 19 Jan 2009 by Pandora / Blake

I've just got back from a (mostly) vanilla theatre weekend with Tom, which was enormous fun. I rarely have the time to be in dramatic productions, even if I were good enough, but I love stage-acting. For the most part I keep the cravings at bay with spanking modelling, bedroom roleplay and amateur dramatic events with my friends, like this one.

Even among my non-scene friends there are quite a few kinksters, which occasionally surfaces in our interpration of plays. This weekend, for instance, saw a delightfully sleazy Lollio in The Changeling, threatening his hapless patients with a leather flogger. Elizabethan drama mentions whipping rather a lot, in fact, which can lead to some hilariously uncanonical laughs when the actors know each other's kinks. Such as my line as Lucio at the end of Measure for Measure:

"If you will hang me for it, you may; but I
had rather it would please you I might be whipt."

Definitely one to add to the list of lines to insert into a spanking movie.

--

I get a real kick off acting. Doing private play-readings or performances with a close group of friends is are just as much fun as making spanking movies, in a very different way. Acting together is something Tom and I have done since we first met, and our relationship thrives on the energy it generates. I've enjoyed a semi-sexual charge all weekend with dear friends who aren't and never will be lovers, but who understand the intimacy of that spark. And when Tom and I finally tore ourselves away from the merry-making, that energy poured itself into some of the hottest D/s sex we've had in weeks. Spanking wasn't on the agenda due to shared accommodation with thin walls (we didn't want to wake people up, although I suspect my cries were audible no matter how hard I tried to muffle them by biting down on the duvet), but we didn't need it. Watching him act makes me incredibly horny, and I'd been wanting to pounce him all weekend. When his hand finally closed around my throat and his eyes locked with mine, the rest of the world disappeared. I am his, and in that moment my awareness of the fact filled my whole consciousness. It was like my whole self became sublimely sensitive, responsive to the lightest of touches. It made my spine and my soul tingle.

If he can make me feel that way without even hurting me, I'm trembling with anticipation at the thought of what might happen now that we're home.

Keep reading »

Tags: acting, dominance and submission, Thomas Cameron

9 comments

Spanked over bruises

Posted at 17:53 on 20 Jan 2009 by Pandora / Blake

It turns out my Superwoman Spanking Model Healing Powers are at fighting strength. Once I saw the extent of the damage after the Pain4Fem shoot, I'd anticipated having to take 4-6 weeks off modelling work to recover. It's been less than two weeks and most of the colour has faded already. All that remains is the scabs from the couple of strokes that drew blood, which I sincerely hope aren't going to scar, and some faint brown colour on my cheeks. Not very attractive, but hopefully it'll have gone soon ;)

I managed to get two spankings while I was marked, which was extremely interesting in terms of chronicling the changes in sensitivity and sensation. We waited a few days, until the swelling had gone down a bit, and then D put me over his knee for the lightest of experimental hand-spankings. He's doesn't spank overly hard, preferring the sharp finger-tap to the high-impact smack, which I was particularly glad of this time.

He started even lighter than usual. All the sensations felt different, as if he was spanking me under water. My skin was tingly when he stroked it, but somehow less sensitive to light surface sensation. Lighter smacks were numbed by the bruising, as if the nerve endings weren't working properly. But anything hard enough to be felt at a muscular level provoked an unpleasant, throbbing ache from the deep muscle bruising. I found myself responding enthusiastically to the lighter spanks, wanting him to go harder - and then when he did, it very quickly became too much.

The changes in sensation were confusing - I found myself thinking a bit too much about how and why it felt wrong, rather than relaxing into the spanking. But I was delighted that D was interested in playing with me while I was marked, and there's nothing like feeling loved to make a spanking more enjoyable. And the dark side of my kink was getting off on the image of my poor battered bottom receiving yet more punishment; my awareness of how and why I was bruised served to complement the physical sensations and make them more interesting.

Yesterday, after Tom and I got back from our weekend away, I asked him for a spanking. He kissed me and said he thought that might be fun, and asked me to fetch his hairbrush. I think I must have looked at him as if he'd already struck me with it. It took an enormous effort of will not to complain and tell him defensively that I was already bruised - he surely knew that. I think the look in my eyes as I hesitated was clear as if I'd said something, but I kept my mouth shut and fetched the brush.

He told me to pull my jeans down, and I bent over his knee. He has a very comfortable knee. He started lightly, over my panties, trying out a variety of different types of smack on my bottom and paying particular attention to my sit spot and thighs. It felt good, much closer to the usual sting and tingle than it had a week ago. He avoided the damaged areas higher up on my ass and concentrated on the unmarked skin lower down, which made me squeal. As he slowly warmed me up he started laying on higher impact smacks, and immediately the deep bruising answered with a wince. As he upped the tempo I flailed around more than usual. He kept going just long enough for me to start sincerely begging him to stop.

I felt tearful and frightened - if his hand had been that bad, how could I possibly cope with the brush? But he'd already assessed the extent of the invisible bruising deep in the muscle, and decided of his own accord that wood wouldn't be a good idea right now. I, of course, felt pathetic and guilty about complaining as soon as I realised I was being let off. Not the ideal submissive response - having a Dom is meant to stop me feeling bad about those situations, because the decision and responsibility becomes his.

He told me that when he asked for the brush, he hadn't worked out whether or not he was going to use it - he was going to decide once he'd assessed the damage. I hadn't weaselled my way out of anything; he'd just wanted to have his options to hand.

I believed him, and after a while the guilty feelings succumbed to good sense. (The very hot sex we had after my spanking probably helped.) But a small, bratty corner of my brain think it's a mean trick to play. Threatening a girl with a wicked implement and then not making good on the threat. I'm just not entirely sure whether it's meaner because you'll frighten her for no reason, or because you'll get her hopes up.

Keep reading »

Tags: D, dominance and submission, kink, Thomas Cameron

18 comments

taking action

Posted at 14:04 on 21 Jan 2009 by Pandora / Blake

I got back from my weekend away to discover I'd been mentioned on a mainstream political blog. No, I'm not famous yet - the blogger is my excellent friend Penny Red, and she wanted a quote from me on the violent porn legislation that comes into force on Monday. (In fact, she texted me to ask if I was available for a quick phone interview, but I was neck-deep in Shakespeare at the time and missed my chance.)

I have not, however, missed my chance to attend the demonstration at Parliament Square this Sunday, protesting the ban. The action is being organised by CAAN, the Consenting Adults Action Network. The Spanking Writers have already written this week about CAAN and the legislation; I've already discussed my own point of view at some length.

As Abel has already argued, I don't think most spankos are in danger of becoming criminals next week. Here's the relevant section again:

(6) An extreme image is an image which
     (a) falls within subsection (7), and
     (b) is grossly offensive, disgusting or otherwise of an obscene character.

(7) An image falls within this subsection if it portrays, in an explicit and realistic way, any of the following
     (a) an act which threatens a persons life,
     (b) an act which results, or is likely to result, in serious injury to a persons anus, breasts or genitals,
     (c) an act which involves sexual interference with a human corpse, or
     (d) a person performing an act of intercourse or oral sex with an animal (whether dead or alive).

6b is explicitly and worryingly subjective. The News of the World believes that a private judicial caning carried out by consenting adults is gross, disgusting and obscene; the Sunday Mercury thinks that filming spanking porn with consenting adults is a sex crime. (If you disagree, feel free to contact the journalist and explain why - a sample letter and his email address are available here, courtesy of SpankedHortic.) Let's hope none of their fans have jury duty coming up any time soon.

Section 7 is more precise, but significant subsets of BDSM porn are covered by the legislation. An abduction scene where the victim is threatened with a knife? Illegal. A photo of a blade lightly pressing against a throat? Illegal. Sexy shots of someone fellating a gun? Illegal. Erotic asphyxiation? Illegal.

I love non-consent games. Coercion roleplay? Sign me up. I wouldn't enact it with most people, but my fantasies overflow with forced sex, blackmail, kidnapping, restraint, slavery, objectification, threats and brutal discipline. Force me up against a wall and growl into my ear exactly why I have no choice but to submit and I'll be wet before you start. Hold a sword to my throat and I'll give up on even trying to pretend I'm not enjoying it. I get off on breath play so much it's been known to make me come on the spot. As such, I heartily support the existence of erotica depicting these acts. I don't own anywhere near as much of it as I'd like, but will defend the rights of anyone who's been lucky enough to get hold of the good stuff.

As a spanking model, the kind of porn I own most of just about, assuming a sympathetic jury, slips through this new net. Half of it has me in it, which potentially provides a defense under section 66 (although it's debatable whether it's possible to consent under law to, for example, the caning I received in my recent Pain4Fem film). But even if I'm not technically going to be criminalised next week it doesn't mean there's nothing wrong. Something is very wrong.

Images of violence, actual bodily harm, threats to a person's life have been acceptable as popular entertainment for years. The only legal difference between "extreme porn" and half of Hollywood is that the former was "produced solely or principally for the purpose of sexual arousal". Owning a copy of the torture scene in Casino Royale, for instance, is not criminalised because the film as a whole is not deemed pornographic. You tell me that half the people watching that scene weren't enjoying Daniel Craig's exposed body and delicious vulnerability. And yet an identical scene produced for publication on, say, this blog would be illegal.

This photo of Chris Burden holding a knife to a reporter's throat is either journalism or performance art, and therefore legal. This image of a handcuffed Asian girl being threatened with a knife is far more ambiguous. In many ways it is less violent than the Chris Burden photo. Was it created for purposes of sexual arousal? No-one knows but the photographer. (And would he be believed in court if he denied it?)

Essentially, the content of the images is irrelevant to this legislation. The intent is the deciding factor. This legislation is so significant because it is the first instance in UK law of a thought crime.

Which is why I'll be at Parliament Square at 2pm this Sunday, defending my right to make and own porn depicting scenes I can legally and consensually enact in private. I hope I'll see some of you there.

Keep reading »

Tags: Extreme porn legislation, films and TV, Kink activism, making a scene, Politics, rant, requesting assistance

6 comments

kinky slogans

Posted at 09:42 on 22 Jan 2009 by Pandora / Blake

I want to carry a placard at the demonstration this weekend, but I can't decide what to write on it. I'm going to need to start making it pretty soon, so I wondered if any of you lot could help me brainstorm some ideas. I started out by googling, but that was no use - I can't find a list of pro-kinky-porn slogans anywhere, which suggests to me that it's high time we came up with some.

Previous protests have seen placards saying 'No to thought crime', 'Penalise crime, not sex' and 'Depiction harms no-one'. Which are okay, I guess, but I was hoping for something a little wittier.

I'm not very good at this sort of thing, but I had a think while I was doing the washing up and came up with the following for starters:

'I <3 Extreme Porn'
'Consensual Sex is Not a Crime'
'My Thoughts Are Not Crimes'
'I <3 Consensual Violence'
'If you can't join us, please don't beat us'
'Have Autonomy, Can Consent'
'Love the Sinner, Love the Sin'
'Kinky and proud'
'If you think that's extreme, you should see some of my fantasies'
'Welcome to 1984'
'Big Brother is Watching You Masturbate'

I'm strongly tempted to use the last one because lolcats rock my world, but more ideas can't hurt. Do your worst. :)

Keep reading »

Tags: Extreme porn legislation, funny, Politics, requesting assistance

6 comments

The taxman cometh

Posted at 17:27 on 24 Jan 2009 by Pandora / Blake

I left my accounts far too late this year. They've been on my to do list for a while, but then it was Christmas and New Year and I've been away a lot in January, and suddenly my accountant was emailling me on Friday gently prompting me that she needed them by Monday if she was going to make the deadline.

I love having an accountant. It means I don't have to fret about whether I've claimed something I shouldn't have as expenses, or got something wrong. My tax return becomes someone else's responsibility, and it's worth every penny.

Of course, getting the info to my accountant in time still is my responsibility. Luckily, even then I have an option of making it someone else's problem.

I gave it to Tom.

Not in a "here, you do it!" way, obviously. No, I spoke to him on Thursday night and confessed that I needed to get all the work done on Friday and that my motivation level was low. Could he maybe provide some sort of incentive?

But of course. First, he said, I had to be up and at my desk by 9am, awake and showered and ready to work. He'd call at five past and check in on me; I would be due twelve cane strokes, in the first instance, if I didn't manage that.

And what do you know? I did. I then spent all morning sorting out my paperwork, and was nearly ready to start typing everything up when he checked in on me in the afternoon. By the time I stopped at midnight I'd done all the sums and just needed to compile my receipts, and I spoke to him before I went to bed. I finished them today, and would almost certainly would have spent the last two days procrastinating if I hadn't had my Dom taking an interest. I don't think I disappointed him.

He stopped in on his way to work last night to give me a hug and see how I was getting on. While he was here I remembered something.

"Close your eyes," I grinned, "and hold out your hands." (Somehow this saying has much less force when said by a sub to her Dom, but I grew up with it.)

This is what I put in his hands:



I picked it up from the pharmacy the other day. It's smaller and lighter than most of the bathbrushes I've seen, but there's a heck of a lot of sting there. As I quickly learned. Well, he wasn't going to pass up an opportunity like that, was he? It stings a LOT, particularly when used fast. I wasn't even pink afterwards, which was hard to believe given how much I'd yelped and wriggled around.

But the afterglow was just the same when I sat back down at my desk. It hadn't been a punishment. More a welcome distraction. And a reconnection, grounding me in my body, refreshing my state of mind and giving me a renewed energy to tackle the boring spreadsheets.

Tom left me with the promise that he'd call on me again on his way to work the next morning, and if I didn't get up promptly, he'd use the bathbrush again.

Needless to say, I was at my desk on time this morning. And my accounts are now done! I knew that brush was a good investment. :)

Keep reading »

Tags: bath brush, dominance and submission, kink, other pictures, Real life punishment

19 comments

Yes we CAAN

Posted at 21:58 on 26 Jan 2009 by Pandora / Blake

Shamefully, I'd never been to Parliament Square before. I followed Penny's confident lead as we got the bus from Leicester Square, and dashed across the busy roads to the island in the centre, which as far as I could tell has no legal crossing to it. At first glance, the CAAN protest seemed to be huge - it took me a minute to figure out that most of what I was seeing was the demos against violence in Sri Lanka and Gaza, and Brian Haw's infamous seven-year peace protest against the war in Iraq. Next to the stalls and placards about human rights atrocities, our cause seemed a little petty.

But there were already a healthy crowd of kinksters, and over the next three hours the group expanded impressively. It was great to see Amy again, and various other friends in the goth/alternative scene. Once I'd arrived D. pointed out to me the gorgeous, young-looking redhead standing out from the crowd. "Can we take her home?" he quipped, slipping an arm around my waist. Spotting cute boys and girls is a favourite pastime of ours.

"Sure!" I grinned, not realising that the young lady we were so cheerfully perving over was in fact Irelynn. I didn't recognise her until she came up and introduced herself. (I think she deserves a prize for making it to the demo on her own from the other end of the country, even braving the terror of London buses in the process.) She is, of course, even lovelier in person, and an interesting internal battle between my protective instincts and wicked thoughts ensued. But I managed to behave myself, and not scare her too much. (I hope!)

There seemed to be some internal debate about whether it was better to protest in attention-grabbing outfits, or while seeming as "normal" as possible so as not to alienate passers-by, but I think it was good to have a mix. Our placards attracted quite a lot of attention. Especially mine. I had several compliments on it, mostly from people who looked blankly at me when I made a comment about lolcats, so at least I know it made sense to people who didn't get the geeky internet in-joke. :)





The placards either side of me read: "Get your filthy laws off me" and "The internet is for porn" respectively. Both of which sentiments I heartily endorse. My other favourite slogan of the day was "Make Love Not Laws" - simple but effective.

There seemed to be a healthy number of reporters present, including a camera crew, and a handful of journalists from national press to local student papers. I gave a couple of quotes, but was too shy to do a video interview. I'll be interested to see how many of the articles make it to print.

The Register published a balanced and entertaining response to the new law over the weekend, which gives the sound advice previously published by Backlash a wider audience. I was also heartened to read a couple of sympathetic articles in the Independent after the protests in December. The bill has already been passed: it's too late to change that. But the true test of legislation that's vaguely worded is legal precedent. The only hope we have now is to persuade juries and Justices that there is no correlation between looking at sadistic porn and committing abuse; that depiction harms no-one, and that a hard-line interpretation of this law constitutes an infringement of civil liberties.

In the meantime, I'm going to have a little lie-down and enjoy some of the extreme and violent images which I keep stored in my brain. Big Brother may be watching me masturbate, but the government can't do a damn thing to stop me looking at those.

Keep reading »

Tags: Extreme porn legislation, Kink activism, making a scene, Photos, Politics

9 comments

at the foot of the glacier

Posted at 22:24 on 27 Jan 2009 by Pandora / Blake

This winter has been the coldest I can remember in the UK. (I'm too young to remember the cold snap of '86.) It's foolhardy to step outside your front door without gloves, and I've swapped the rooms of my tiny flat around so that the cold draught blowing around my ill-fitting front door only freezes me while I work, not while I try to sleep. Every night I huddle under two duvets with a hot water bottle, my cat curled up on my feet, and preferably a boyfriend to wrap me in his arms.

When Amy and I arrived in Slovakia we stared at the snow and shivered at the announcement telling us it was -4C outside. But when we returned to the UK we discovered that it had been -8 to -10 all week in London. However bare I am in my photos, most of my blogging these last few months has been done while wearing thick jumpers and fleecy toe-socks.

Even so, I've not been as cold as my friend Gentian was the November before last, when she good-naturedly agreed to bare her bottom and go over the knee for a spanking at the foot of the Athabasca Glacier in the Canadian Rockies. I was behind the camera this time, and sent the photos to my friends Angie and Peter at English Vice a few months later.



Dave at The Cherry Red Report emailled me a couple of days ago asking for the scoop on these photos, and he's just posted a feature on them; including the full story of our hike to the foot of the glacier, and how exactly I persuaded my friends to brave the biting winds so I could take spanking photos for you at several thousand feet above sea level.



I sent four photos in total to English Vice . Sadly the spanking doesn't show up very well but I wanted to stand far enough back to get a sense of the amazing location. Even in this small photoseries you can see the sudden flurries of ice and snow that obscured the camera view. I can only applaud G's bravery and guess that the wind was much more painful than J's hand! I didn't dare take any more in case she got serious frost bite.



You can read the full story over at The Cherry Red Report. Many thanks to Dave for his interest, and to English Vice for hosting the photos and providing such wonderful inspiration.

And now I'm going to bed with my cat and my hot water bottle, to dream of being spanked in the warm.

Keep reading »

Tags: al fresco spanking, J, kink, other pictures, those crazy kinksters

8 comments

Sugasm #157

Posted at 22:11 on 28 Jan 2009 by Pandora / Blake

The best of this weeks blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #158? Submit a link to your best post of the week by emailing me directly at radicalvixenatgmaildotcom Participants, repost the link list within a week and youre all set.

This Weeks Picks A 2009 Wish For Smut Writers Sex bloggers are on the cusp of what I see as being a new kind of sexual revolution.

Q&A with Domina Doll I enjoy teaching others how to explore that aspect of themselves.

Keep reading »

Tags: Blogging, sugasm

6 comments

I can't move

Posted at 11:08 on 30 Jan 2009 by Pandora / Blake

I don't try to make a clear distinction between porn and art. When an image turns me on, is it because of the ideas it expresses or the way it expresses them? Sometimes I find myself aroused by a photo that I find aesthetically tasteless. Sometimes I'm mesmerised by the technical quality of an image, find myself gazing and gazing even though the scene it depicts isn't one I'd normally appreciate. Sometimes images tell a story, and it doesn't matter what the story's about or how good the photography is, it's the look in the model's eyes, the emotional hook of the hinted narrative that reels me in. Sometimes an image is just beautiful, so beautiful you leave the tab open and just keep on coming back to drink it in.

I recently found a secret stash of images exactly like this. I Can't Move is a preview for a new site of vintage bondage furniture, kinky photography, filthy stories and home movies.



Beautiful girls in dirty basements. Tied to chairs. Torn dresses. Sprawled on the floor, with smudges and bruises scuffing their perfect skin. Bound, blindfolded, shackled, chained. Knickers ripped off and pooled around dirty ankles. Hair pulled, tousled, wrenched. Breasts and throats roughly handled. A rich diversity of beauty, celebrating dark and pale, voluptuous and slender.



This is dirty sex at its best, homebuilt furniture perfectly setting off the grungy aesthetic. The decor is bare stone walls, ratty carpets, wrought iron flaking with rust. Some of the photos create glowing tableaux, posed beauties with the silhouettes of shackled Victorian maidens. Others pop with dynamic tension, expressing in a single still the violent energy of forced sex.

The site design is perhaps not the most accessible, but the presentation of the images is richly evocative, reminiscent of polaroids and nineties grunge. I hope the site owner doesn't mind my cutting these shots out to show you.

And the lighting, the compositions. The colours.



"I am inspired by the world of erotic pulp fiction. Naked damsels in distress and kinky sex stories populated the covers and pages of these early magazines. I put down my camera and picked up my hand tools in an effort to create my idea of vintage bondage furniture.

"I am using the 1930s as the inspiration for both the materials used to construct the pieces as well as the visual presentation through my photography. I am limiting myself to materials that would have been available to the builder of the furniture in the 30s. By doing so the pieces take on a feel of what I call improvisational bondage, more organic and singular than most bondage furniture I have seen."

I just love that the site owner is more interested in the furniture than the girls. :)

Keep reading »

Tags: fetish art, other pictures

6 comments

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