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Posted at 19:59 on 23 Jun 2016 by Pandora / Blake

Tags: cane, consent, D, empowerment, Felix, hand spanking, helpful tops, kink, m-f, negotiation, personal, pleasure spanking, teaching, thigh spanking

"Are those 'ows' real 'ows'?" my top asks in concern, resting the tip of the cane on the bed.

"No. Well, yes, they're real as in it really hurts, but it's the difference between owwww!" (high pitched squeal) "and 'Gerroff, you fucker'." I twist around and look at him through my eyelashes. "Basically if I'm still being cute, I'm consenting."

"Aha." He smiles, and picks up the cane.


During my ten months of ATVOD limbo, my kinky sexuality has been on a low ebb. The exhausted, flickering spark of spanko lust remaining has fuelled my sex life with D and professional spanking sessions in the meantime, but there hasn't been enough erotic energy leftover to keep me awake at night, lure me away from work in the afternoons for frenzied wank sessions, or, say, seek out new lovers.

As I gradually learned the good news of my appeal win over the course of 2016, I cradled the tiny flame of my libido. I still masturbate at bedtime, most nights - but not every night, which by my standards is a pretty poor showing. D and I see each other around once a week, and work has been kicking his butt lately too. Sometimes we're both just happy to snuggle.

I've been reading erotic fiction lately, rather than looking at visual porn. Revisiting my pre-pornographer days, getting back in touch with my teenage self, who devoured dirty books about BDSM every chance she could get.

And as the year has warmed, and the good news has finally gone public, I've felt the tension start to ease; the shadows to withdraw. The flame is burning brighter now - giving me enough energy to book dates with exciting new people.

I don't exclusively date spanking fetishists. If I did, I wouldn't be with D, and I'm more than happy to enjoy other pleasures. But happily, both the lovelies I've been getting to know this month have shared my enthusiasm to some extent.

It's surreal sometimes, dating as a pornographer. It sometimes feels as if everyone knows my erotic tastes better than I do. Rather than trying to impress, I find myself trying to seem less intimidating. (It comes down to silly voices, mostly.)

The bit where I ask my companion about their tastes in bed is always fun anyway, but when they are already fully versed in my own infamous predilections, it gets funnier.

My date a couple of weeks ago was listing her interests, thoughtfully; "I'm a subby switch, I like impact play, spanking...." when I noticed her shyly catch my eye on mentioning the latter, checking my reaction. I gasped in mock horror.

"SCANDALOUS! I've never heard such filth!"

First time sex is always better with lots of giggling.


My caner now is Felix. He's actually the boyfriend of a friend of mine; I like it when men come with glowing references. He's far too polite to spank me without permission, but I've been dropping hints all evening. That is, when my seductive "oh look, somehow my bottom is in the air" poses fail to have the desired effect, I take the piss out of him for missing the cue - and then take the piss out of myself by doing lots of modeltastic bootylicious poses, until he climbs on top of me and pins me down, swatting my butt with his hand.

This is much better.

After warming my bottom and thighs, during which I'm a good girl and hardly tell him what to do at all, he asks me what I want.

"Actually, I would fucking love a caning," I confess, letting my breath whoosh out slowly, like the tingle that is spreading up my thighs.

He's slapped me all over my bottom and legs, focusing even more on my legs when I whimpered about it (after establishing that the whimpering was bollocks, of course). At one point he was giving me these hard, thuddy hand strikes to the calves and thighs that felt like karate chops, and I asked "Are you doing a martial art on me?"

"Not knowingly," he laughed, startled, "but if I am, it's probably tai chi."

Boy does sword form. He'll be fine with a cane.

He's hesitant initially, so I dive in to reassure him: "I can teach you! I'm a professional!" We get out the selection, and I'm thinking I'm going to get my thighs caned, so I pick out the two lightest. The problem is that my rattan canes fucking sting, especially when they're used glancingly by someone who is being very careful to pull their blows. Once I establish that he's concentrating on my bum for a bit (because I don't want it that hard on my thighs, not today), I teach him about follow-through, and after that everything gets very warm and yummy for a bit.

Pictured is Zoe Montana taking a much, much harder thigh caning than I ever could at Triple A Spanking.

His aim becomes more confident, and I warm up. I ask if he'd like to try the dragon.

"The what?"

I hand him my long purple-handled cane, watching him test it with a swordsman's eye for balance. I give a brief lesson on how to tell the difference between various types of cane. And then I'm surrendering to deliciously thuddy, ever-so-slightly-too-fast-for-comfort strokes, occasionally offering guidance on aim or strength, but mostly gasping my release into the pillows.

Finally, when arranging my breathing to receive each stroke starts to feel like hard work, I reluctantly admit that I'm reaching my limit. He stops immediately, and I wish he had the audacity to tell me I was getting another three hard ones first. (This is, by the way, what reaching my limit means, as opposed to at my limit - toppy types take note.)

I'm not marked, apart from some pink tramlines on my thighs that will be mostly gone by morning. I indulge in a bit of nostalgia for the bygone days of glorious bruising, then get over it because it's actually lovely to be able to play as hard as I like (especially given my modest limits at the moment), as often as I like, without worrying about damage.

I also make sure Felix fully understands that just because it isn't marked, it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. It's important be clear about these things.

Today, I remember with a startled flicker of joy halfway through the morning: Oh! I got caned yesterday. On my thighs! When I sit down, there's a tiny, lingering tingle. Maybe my spanking mojo hasn't completely burned out, after all.


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