Reader's photos #2

Posted at 13:52 on 23 Feb 2012 by Pandora / Blake

Tags: cane, kink, readers photos, school uniform

Today's blogpost is brought to you by another reader with a taste for the ritual and atmosphere of school punishment roleplay.

My mistress and I occasionally indulge in a public school style beating whereupon I am summoned to the prefects' common room, instructed to bend over a plain wooden chair, and given six of the best with a chalked cane by the head of house (in this case a girl with a fine wrist action!). I am then instructed to get up, lower my trousers and pants and bend over again. With the tip of the cane she flicks my coat-tails clear once more and gives me a further six.

The first six are evenly spread over my bottom, but the last are concentrated in the middle. The photos doesn't really do the marks justice, which are dark, well-defined tramlines.

A good 'soundscape' is important to us. We choose high-ceilinged rooms with plenty of wood (bookshelves are good - but that's more aesthetics if I'm honest) to amplify proceedings. T has a great, full-arm action and the speed of her stroke makes for a full and melodious swish. Prior to strokes on bare flesh, a dense cream is applied, making the buttocks sleek and 'wet' and into which ensuing strokes of the cane cut with a meatier, more resonant thwack. Not quite public school protocol I'll admit, but a great addition!

For the implement geeks among us ... the cane itself is a straight length of dark brown rattan - dense and very springy - 40" long, 3/8ths thick and jointed every 9" or so. T uses its full length - and about 70% of her power. It's enough!

I absolutely adore the detail of coat-tails being flicked clear with the tip of a cane. I imagine it's a trick that takes a little practice to get right!

Comments

The black-and-white pictures and the tramlines look nice indeed! And of course I'm all for ritual... :-)

They're yummy, aren't they? Nice to see the results of a left-handed caner, too!

You obviously had a lovely time writing this comment. Thankyou - I think! ;)

At the top of the web page, from the bed on which she permanently reclines, the photograph of Pandora Blake glows with her Mona Lisa smile. Soft, warming, but somehow knowing, betraying the existence of worlds beyond calculation behind her blue irises. I move to the side of my monitor, but Pandora's eyes are still trained on me. I try a different angle; left, right, above, and below, but her gaze is inescapable. She watches everywhere, and as she does, the ineffable machinery in her skull calculates everything. I shut off the computer and go outside, but Pandora watches still.

I look at the world around me, and patterns begin to emerge. Carefully orchestrated events, disguised cunningly as chaos. That smile. The motion of cars and buses, the flight of the birds. That smile. She knows that I know. She knows that I'm on to her. That's part of her plan too. There's no escaping it.

Seven billion human lives go on, heedless, reflected in the the eyes of Pandora Blake. Her Mona Lisa smile tells me, with sedate confidence, like a kindergarten teacher speaking comfortingly to a young child: this is all mine.

You obviously had a lovely time writing this comment. Thankyou - I think! ;)

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