Posted at 06:45 on 13 Jul 2013 by Pandora / Blake
It has been a hell of a week. The number of projects I can comfortably juggle is around four, and at the moment I'm juggling around seven. The last few days it's seemed like half an hour can't go by without something going wrong, or someone needing to talk to me. They are all exciting, interesting projects, but the end result is that it half past midnight and I am currently on a night bus on my way to D's place before our shoot tomorrow for Dreams of Spanking. We're shooting a day of couple nudes, spanking glamour and dominance/submission photos with photographer Matt Christie. I'm excited about the shoot, and was hoping to be a bit better slept than I'm going to be.
Still, it's a day I get to spend caressing and playing with my lover and call it work, so overall life is good. This last year or so, and especially since our seven-year anniversary in November, my and D's relationship has been full of happy feels and deepening attachment, and I'm looking forward to expressing that on camera. Plus it's the first shoot we've done together since we collectively got into fitness, and it'll be interesting to see how much our bodies have changed.
Speaking of D and happy feels, I wanted to tell you about my birthday caning.
It was my birthday a couple of weeks ago, and I'd worked hard during the week to take the weekend off for a party. D came round for breakfast and helped me get the flat ready for guests, but it was also important to me to have some private time with him before everything kicked off.
The day before he'd sent me a link to a picture of my friend Ivy, kneeling amongst a group of people wearing nothing but a pair of white lacy school socks. (I would post it, but it wasn't posted in a public forum so I'm not sure I have permission to share). Did I have any socks like that, D asked? But of course I did. I have more varieties of school uniform than will fit in my wardrobe.
So it was that I ended up in a rather short, rather tight grey skirt, white blouse and knee high socks. We fooled around on the bed for a bit, and as I knelt on all fours to suck his cock I remember thinking that it was unusual for me to be fully clothed while he was nude. It's not the stereotypical way around for a dom/sub dynamic but I appreciated it. I love his strong, lean body and I like to look at it; and he likes dressing me up, so it worked.
Still in my school uniform, I was ordered to bend over the foot rail of the bed, which is high enough to force me onto tip toes. I leaned down and put my hands on the bed, feeling like I was folding in half. I wasn't - I'm not that flexible - but it felt excitingly vulnerable. The sight of my upturned bottom in a tight grey school skirt and white-socked, tiptoed feet also seemed to work for D, who told me how nice it looked, and being admired made me like the position even more.
He spanked me, and paddled me with my long black leather paddle, which is getting a little old now but is still one of my favourites, and always turns me on. It provides a lovely full, solid whack that never seems to make me jump; it's just very easy to relax into. Despite that, as the sets of six he was administering increased in speed, they became difficult to take.
After a few rounds of six I was already soaking wet. What can I say. I am a pervert. He was ready to stop there and move on to other distractions, and believe me I was tempted, but it was my birthday, and as the birthday girl I felt I had certain prerogatives. I was a bit nervous about asking in case he said no, but surely he wouldn't refuse me on my birthday. So, armed with this once-a-year spoiled princess confidence, I informed him that birthday canings were a tradition in my house. He smiled. "And we are in your house, aren't we? In that case I think you should pick out a cane."
Let me just pause at this point to emphasise how much I fucking love being caned and how regularly I crave it - specifically from someone I feel submissive to. D is not naturally inclined towards this sort of play for his own sake, and thrashings from him are an occasional treat. When I realised he was willing to play along, I practically jumped up and down with glee.
Instead I picked out my new Correction Collection cane with the purple handle which I brought back from BBW. Paul Kennedy had given me such a delicious beating with it when I filmed with him last month that I was giggling the whole way through. It was on its way to becoming one of my favourites, but I needed to try it a bit more to be sure.
Back over the end of the bed I went for twenty-nine strokes. I counted them for him, unasked - well, it was important to get the number right. They hurt, but I'd asked for this, so the least I could do was take it well. He kept up a remorseless pace, delivering the next as soon as I'd counted the previous. It reached the point where I had to deliberately slow down my count so I'd have a chance to catch my breath.
This cane is long, thickish, flexible and dense. It bends gloriously in the air to land with a deep, satisfying thud. The pain arrives with an electrifying punch and settles to a sweetly aching burn. I love pretty much everything about it. The strokes got progressively harder, and the last nine were genuinely challenging. Several of those in a row landed on the crease, and the last one was both very low and very hard, and made me howl. Throughout it all, I was jubilant. This was what I'd wanted; this was what I'd needed. A caning from D, satisfying, and hard; hard enough, harder than I expected, hard enough to challenge me. It was brilliant.
I was ridiculously horny after that, but he surprised me yet again, staying where he was and teasing me with the pressure of his cock against my arsehole. I didn't want him to fuck me there, it hadn't been in my mind and I knew it would hurt, but as soon as he did that I knew I'd be disappointed if he didn't. If only for the hotness of the image of his cock sliding between my freshly marked cheeks.
So I wanted him to do it, but I didn't, but I did. He made me ask for it, in the end. He teased me there with his cock, asking if there was anything I wanted, until I confessed, blushing and hiding my face in my hands, that maybe it would be sort of hot. I was still bent over the foot of the bed and he fucked me there, squeezing the fresh cane welts under his palms, claiming my bottom inside and out. Being buggered after a caning is one of my recurring fantasies, and it was all the hotter for being a surprise. I was so desperately aroused by that point that I came pretty quickly.
The good thing about being the birthday girl is that once a year, you get to have exactly what you want, and you don't have to feel any guilt at all.