Posted at 18:11 on 9 Oct 2013 by Pandora / Blake
Last weekend was another working weekend. It wasn't without its highlights; for instance, painting Nimue Allen with a pattern of fire and autumn leaves over a shared bottle of wine, before taking nude photos of her resplendent with flames (for her site Nimue's World) was a pretty good example of ways in which working in porn can be ridiculously awesome.
After that fun interlude on Friday night I needed to spend Saturday and Sunday editing video for Dreams of Spanking. Inbetween I visited D's place on Saturday evening to lift weights (he has a rack and bench in his spare room), eat dinner and spend some time together.
Work dragged; by the time I arrived at D's it was hours later than I'd hoped, and I was tired and stressed. He'd requested I bring long white schoolgirl socks, and promised me a spanking before we worked out. Sounded like just what I needed.
I eagerly changed into nothing but the socks and waited on his bed. He soon had me lying on my tummy while he straddled me, reddening my cheeks with both hands.
Spanking gave way to other things, and I found myself in my usual submissive blowjob position, lying curled on my side with my hands behind my back while he fucked my face. He can get deeper into my throat in this pose than in others, and it's a very passive experience for me. I don't need to move or do anything except hold myself as still and relaxed as possible while he uses me. Forced into passivity, I sank inwards. By the time he was ready to fuck, I'd floated into a deep submissive zone and couldn't cope with sex yet; I just needed to be held until I surfaced.
We dipped in and out of play over the next couple of hours, trying to find a mode that worked. The combination of the white socks and the subspace had left me in a very Little headspace - vulnerable, shy, craving his affection and approval. When, later, he bent me over the weights bench and strapped me with his long black strap, the pain and suddenness of the impact shocked me so much I quickly found myself in tears. I didn't object to the beating - on the contrary, it made me feel very loved - but in my confused, fragile state I couldn't ride the pain, and was quickly overwhelmed. I cried and cried.
This time, it was also a very sexual experience for me, and when he stopped I was soaking wet, but once again I needed some recovery time. Fragile, emotional creature than I am, I had to cry it all out before I was ready for sex.
We did fuck finally, thankfully - and suitably climactic it was too, with me on my back on the bench, bracing myself against the inside of the weights cage with my hands above my head and my feet in the air.
That was the second time recently that a relatively light spanking at D's hands has left me in tears. The other was a couple of weeks ago:
As I said to Tom on the phone the other night, my last post notwithstanding, I don't feel especially stressed right now - I feel pretty cheerful, actually. But even if I'm not aware of it, there must be a fair amount of stress and tension under the surface for spanking to bring me to tears so easily; for me to need to cry out unknown complexities before I can relax into the simpler emotional landscape of sex.
Or perhaps my good mood this week is a direct result of those cathartic tears. At least I know I have a good coping mechanism if I need it.
(Continue reading: Spanked to tears - part 2)