There have been a couple of scenes on Sarah Gregory’s sites lately starring me, and I really like the look of both of them. The first is on Sarah Gregory Spanking, and is called Trust Fund Babies. Sarah, Amelia and I shot this almost exactly a year ago at the Texas All-State Spanking Party last […]
Archive for the ‘Photos’ Category
Well, the censorship saga with payment processor CCBill and my female-gaze porn site Dreams of Spanking got much, much worse. I wrote last week about the ridiculous wording changes they required, including censoring discussions of consensual and ethical production on the blog. I did as I was told. Unfortunately, that was far from the end […]
I received an email this week from CCBill, the billing agent who handles the credit card transactions for Dreams of Spanking. The email notified me that they had recently reviewed my site, and now required me to make certain wording changes, or else they would disable my billing. “Terms, Themes, and Marketing (Other Violation – […]
It’s a month since I was in Atlantic City for the Boardwalk Badness Weekend spanking party. As with my blog reports on the Texas All-State Party last summer, I had time for a couple of posts in the immediate aftermath, but then life took over. After all, travelling creates a backlog of things that need […]
After the shoot with Punished Brats, my friend Benman picked me up from David Pierson’s house and drove me to Atlantic City. To avoid the rush hour traffic we took a long-winded route south, then east through Pennsylvania. This drive gave me the opportunity to see more of the picturesque, luxuriously spacious suburbs where we’d been shooting and, as we headed into the city, Philadelphia itself. As the buildings grew closer together and became more run-down, everything felt less alien, and we moved into a more recognisably urban cityscape of murals and mosques and high rise office buildings. The scenic route added over an hour to our journey time, but I appreciated it; it was good to see more of the state I was travelling through. Once onto the interstate we drove through a wooded national reserve, over the state boundary and into New Jersey, where there wasn’t much landscape of interest en route to Atlantic City except a few small lakes.
We finally arrived at the hotel at 8pm and checked into our rooms. I opened the curtains and instantly fell in love with the view:
My hotel room was spacious and luxurious by London standards. I particularly loved the bathroom, which had marble tiles and a large mirrored dressing table (which I shamelessly hogged all weekend, even after my lovely roommate arrived)
I did some unpacking, then met up with Benman and his friends BradD and his wife, with whom I had chatted a bit online, plus some other people I didn’t know. Once we were seated I realised that I wasn’t the slightest bit hungry. After leaving the shoot I’d been starving, so we’d stopped at a supermarket in the car and I bought the smallest sandwich I could find, which was literally the size of my forearm. I only ate a third of it at first, but over four hours of driving I’d gradually polished it off, leaving me completely full. So instead of dinner I had a glass of wine, then headed over to the casino bar, where I met lots of early party attendees including Mike of Correction Collection, the lovely Judy (to whom I still owe a spanking – I’m sorry we didn’t get to play this weekend), Emma Bishop and the party organisers: Mike Stein, Mike Tanner, Jules and Miranda. I also got to meet Richard Windsor for the first time, who was 100% exactly the man I expected from his blog. He presents himself very honestly, that one, and it was a pleasure to meet him.
I had fun socialising, and after a couple of drinks I was ready to head to bed. With classic timing, at this exact moment Alex Reynolds arrived, who was one of the people I’d been most looking forward to seeing at BBW. Of course I couldn’t go to bed just yet. I’d had no idea she was arriving early and was delighted at the chance to hang out with her before the rest of her people arrived. Much hugging ensued, and – naturally – more drinking. We ended up in Mike Stein’s suite cuddling with Richard Windsor on the sofa. Alex was wearing Rich’s hat most of the night, and incidentally looking hot as fuck in it. I love this photo of the three of us snuggling and happy in our glasses, even though it kind of looks like I’m photobombing the two of them:
I hope I won’t get in trouble with Mr Windsor for nicking that picture off his Fetlife.
Despite not getting to bed until 2am, in classic jet-lag style I woke up the next morning at 8am, even though I wasn’t scheduled anywhere until midday. I could so have done with that lie-in. Instead I had breakfast with Benman, looking out over the Boardwalk and promising myself a wander along the ocean at some point during the weekend.
The rest of the morning turned out to be really useful alone time – I finished unpacking, decompressed, did some Dreams of Spanking work on my netbook (although I couldn’t get the internet in my hotel room to work) and had time to do my makeup and hair properly before my shoot with Sarah Gregory at midday. This had originally been scheduled for 1.30pm, but Sarah had moved it forward the night before, which I was very happy about as it meant I’d be able to go to Richard’s pool party afterwards.
It turned out the scene we were filming was very topical, with Sarah and I playing friends spanked by Sarah’s mommy Dana for swimming in the hotel pool after it was closed. The scene began with Dana dragging the pair of us into the hotel room dripping wet. Sarah and I had to jump into the shower in our bikinis twice to make sure we were wet enough before starting filming!
This was the first time I’d played with Dana Specht, although I’d really admired her after meeting her at TASSP last summer. She is so warm and gracious, with amazing poise. She also gives absolutely the best scoldings of anyone I have ever met, and being told off and spanked by her was really hot. At one point I was so in character and she was pitching it so perfectly that she nearly made me cry! Sarah and I both got hand spanked, and I got the hairbrush as well for being the instigator. I really enjoyed it and it was a pleasure to be invited into Sarah and Dana’s intense mommy/daughter dynamic.
After being spanked for a fictional one, I was well in the mood for an actual dip in the pool. I found my way to the spa level in the other tower of the hotel – I was still adapting to the scale of the place. By the time I arrived a bunch of people were already there, including Alex looking even hotter than usual:
Being in the pool felt delicious. Cool water, kids laughing and splashing, sunlight streaming in through the glass roof and floor-to-ceiling windows showing a view over the ocean. Alex and I caught up on gossip and greeted other friends including Heather PTL, and Korey and James whom I had met in Texas. More and more people kept arriving, each and every one of them first class, amazing human beings. With every friend added to the mix, my mood was buoyed up one more notch.
Not only that, but I was meeting a lot of new people too, including some HOT new boys. In swimwear. In the sunshine. Oh yes, this pool party was a good idea. I was delighted to make the acquaintance of two party newbies: Oak from Sweden, slender and youthful with sharp, light blue eyes, a huge smile punctuated by long canines, and a neat blond goatee; and bulky, olive-skinned Corey with dark eyes, big pecs and broad shoulders. While chatting up these tempting young men I discovered an instant icebreaker: “So, are you going to the male top uniform party on Saturday?” Thank you party organisers for providing the perfect chat-up line! Even better, the answer in both cases was yes: Oak was going as a cop, Corey as a fireman. Hallelujah! I made dates to play with both of them; and later, I was even more pleased to discover that Corey also liked to switch. Hanging out in the huge, 10-ft-wide jacuzzi in the sun with old friends and new, I formed the firm opinion that this was the best party ever, and nothing has happened since to change my mind.
While the pool party was still going strong, I had to duck out to meet my new roommate, Jade. Alex got out to get dressed with me, but before we made it as far as the changing rooms we bumped into Heather, who was near where I’d left my towel and clothes. At this point I forgot that I was in a normal hotel pool with families and so on, rather than in magical kink land, and started taking my bikini top off to get changed. After all, my clothes were right there. With great tact, Heather said, “Erm, I don’t think you can do that here. Because of the America.” I blushed and hastily covered myself, while Alex laughed her head off. Even at a spanking party, I manage to be too naked.
I hadn’t met Jade before, and didn’t even know her that well online. I’d been aware of her as a blogger and followed her on twitter, but when she said she might be interested in rooming with me I had to go and check out her website to find out who she actually was. After that we talked on Skype, and I learned that she’d never been to a spanking scene event before and was travelling alone, which I thought was super brave. I was really looking forward to meeting her, and to being newbies together; although as many people in the spanking scene seem to know me already and I’d been to two whole parties already, I was also looking forward to being the experienced, well-connected one by comparison and to showing her a good time.
When I met her and showed her to our room, we instantly hit it off. I felt very at ease with her, which was convenient as we’d be in each other’s space for the next four days. She immediately gave an impression of being calm, level-headed and mature, and we shared a boisterous enthusiasm about our BBW adventure, as well as certain over-analytical tendencies. As the weekend progressed that initial spark of connection cemented into a fast friendship, and along with Alex she’s one of the people I’ve missed most acutely since the party ended.
On our way out for lunch, we met up with Alex and Fineous. I admit I’d forgotten how cute Fineous was. He’s famous for his flogging technique, which I’d sampled in Texas last year, but I figured he must also enjoy spanking – being at a spanking party and all. We hugged and I asked if he’d like to do a spanking scene with me this weekend. He said yes, so I was a very happy lady as we walked along the Boardwalk looking for some food.
Alex, who had spent some time in Atlantic City growing up, gave us the Alex Reynolds Adolescent Memories tour, including key moments from her teenage years (sadly not commemorated by plaques, although they totally should have been). I was drawn helplessly into clothing shops that had cute, cheap party outfits on display, and ended up buying a purple bellydancing costume and a backless, bottom-enhancing dress which became one of the favourite outfits of the weekend. (Read on for pictures!)
After lunch (we bumped into other partygoers who were having pizza and decided to join them – this kept happening whenever I ventured out of the hotel), we headed back and I got ready for my first scheduled play session of the weekend, a switch roleplay with BradD. To my chagrin, I actually forgot the scene we’d planned (even though we’d emailed extensively about it ahead of time), but by a happy accident I managed to wear something appropriate: my red secretary dress. Brad threw me off balance by greeting me at the door in character, so I sat down and did a lot of serious nodding and “yes sir”s while belatedly trying to get up to speed with the scenario. I turned out to be a law clerk who had made an error with a case and requested corporal punishment to deal with it rather than suspension – cool. Once I’d caught up the scene flowed smoothly, and had an additional twist: after my superior had administered the punishment, he got a call to say there’d been a mistake and I had in fact been right all along, so it got turned back on him. Brad is a great roleplayer and I really enjoyed the scene with him – it was the perfect balance between immersive and playful. He’s a good top and his bottom does the best happy dance when he’s over the knee. So much fun!
Back in our room, Jade and I got dolled up in the new dresses we’d bought on the Boardwalk, and headed down to the Burger Bar for the Meet and Greet Registration.
In a short skin-tight party dress and 6″ platform heels I was a tad overdressed and towered over almost everyone else in the room, but hey, at least it made me easy to find. I said hello to everyone I recognised from TASSP, had a drink with Buzz Lightyear, and greeted Indy and the Brits including Leia Ann (who had thankfully recovered from her stomach bug), Lucy McLean and Stephen Lewis, Paul Allen and other friends. Jade and I sat and talked with Korey and James over drinks, then at midnight we headed up to the 52nd floor for the first night of suite parties.
The party organisers had booked out the whole floor so we could take over the hallway as well as every suite, and it was crowded and raucous up there. However, there was also a strict no-photos policy, so you’ll have to take my word for everything at the party that took place after midnight.
I bumped into lots more beloved people, including Jerry Diamond and his companion Tara, as well as the wonderful Ten and DrLectr, and many hugs were shared. In one suite I watched Oak spank a string of girls including Tara and Korey, which was a very eye-catching way to begin the evening. Surrounded by men spanking women, however, I quickly decided that the place needed some F/M action, and invited the male Corey over my knee. He was nervous about playing in public but he took a good spanking, and had a beautifully firm, muscular butt. I felt a lot more at ease after doing some topping, although I did then have to turn down a crowd of interested male bottoms who had gathered to watch me give a spanking. The party organisers once more provided a perfect social saving grace: it was very useful to be able to say “Will you be at the bad boys event? Oh, great! I’ll see you there.”
Somehow Thursday turned into another late night. I was shooting again at 10am the next morning, this time for Dana Kane, so I wanted to get a good night’s sleep. Ha. At around 1am as I was heading to bed, I bumped into Alex in the corridor and we shared a good long hug. Realising that this might be our last chance for alone time before the rest of her polycule arrived the following day, I spontaneously asked if she wanted a spanking before bed, and she said yes. I found a spare chair in Mike Stein’s suite and took her over my knee for a good girl spanking that was the equivalent of a bedtime cuddle. Despite the noise level in the room, I felt very connected to her. In the end it was the only time I topped her all weekend, so I’m really glad we got to share that moment. The only sour note was when some lady came in and exclaimed, “Oh, lovely! Little girls spanking each other! How adorable!” Growl. However, great though the insult to my honour was, I’m pleased to report that my ego survived. After all, it’s hard to stay mad about anything with Alex over your knee.
I arrived home from eight days in the US yesterday and I’ve done very little so far except eat, nap, and fall asleep in the bath. Attempts to reset my body clock so far have failed dreadfully. For the last week I’ve been sleeping for 3-5 hours out of every 24, at times of day that feel utterly random due to the time differential. My sleep cycle is now so screwed I wouldn’t even know how to start mapping it, let alone fixing it. I arrived home at midday UK time, after snatching a couple of hours on the plane. My initial intention was to struggle through to the evening and reset everything, but I couldn’t do it; I crashed out from 5-10pm, which is how I came to be up until 4am last night cuddling the cat and writing this.
During that five hour nap I dreamed of the party; of having breakfast with everyone on the last day, of hugging Alex and Vincent and Jade. In my dream we were all unable to tear ourselves away from each other, and everyone decided to stay just one more day. Wishful thinking. Strangely, over the last couple of days the people I’ve found myself thinking of the most aren’t those who were closest to me or who provided the best memories, but the people I didn’t get to spend as much time with as I wanted. The ones I wanted to play with, but the timings or whatever didn’t work out. Cee-cee and Jerry, Ten and DrLectr and JC.
Here’s the brief version of my week in Atlantic City: Boardwalk Badness Weekend was the best kinky event I’ve ever been to, and I think one of the best weeks in my whole life. I was glowing from start to finish. The event was well-organised, with thoughtful, creative events. Newbies such as myself and Jade were well looked after by organisers and veterans alike. The daytime events were fun and entertaining, and the night time suite parties were just amazing spaces full of vibrant energy, laughter and conversation. I fell in love with a dozen people, and spent the whole week floating through a euphoric, loved-up haze, talking and laughing and hugging more than playing, moving from conversation to stimulating conversation, forming strong new personal bonds. At times I looked around me and just basked in the happy energy and relaxed vibe; surrounded by beautiful, happy, like-minded people, feeling at home and amongst family.
I’m still high, I think, fully charged up and nourished by so much kinky stimulation. I wish every part of my life could be this full of acceptance, intense play, high spirits, mutual care and support. I’m so grateful to the organisers and everyone who hosted the suite parties, for their warm welcome, hard work and generosity in providing drinks and snacks, and opening up their space to all at the expense of their own sleep all weekend. From this newbie at least, it was very very much appreciated.
I’ve read tonnes of spanking party reports over the last couple of years about events I wasn’t at, and I know they aren’t for everyone. Arguably these post-party play reports are more for the sake of easing the pang of separation from the other attendees than anything else, a sort of social aftercare. But I’ve found myself missing those who I wished could have been there – particularly Erica and Caroline, among others – as much as those who were. Anyway, if you didn’t go and don’t want to read it all, don’t worry, I’ve been there.
As well as my kinky brothers and sisters, I also find myself missing America more than I expected. This was my second visit to the US, and I want a record of this week as a step in my new relationship with that country, as well as a memorable adventure in spankingland. It’s going to take several posts to tell it all.
I. Going to America
This was the week I felt like I started to “get” America for the first time, and the week I fell in love with it a bit. I saw a lot more of the country than I did in Dallas last summer, where I didn’t really venture out beyond the hotel and the organiser’s homes.
Here’s what Bill Bryson has to say about America on returning to the country after 20 years in the UK:
The many good things about America took on a bewitching air of novelty. I was as dazzled as any newcomer by the famous ease and convenience of daily life, the giddying abundance of absolutely everything, the boundless friendliness of strangers, the wondrous unfillable vastness of an American basement, the delight of encountering waitresses and other service providers who actually seemed to enjoy their work, the curiously giddying notion that ice is not a luxury item and that rooms can have more than one electrical socket.
Things I learned about America on this trip, in no particular order:
- Clearing your plate is not compulsory. It’s not just Texas: food is cheap and huge everywhere. Potatoes and bread come with every meal as standard, and if you eat everything in front of you, you will feel crappy before too long. I discovered that ordering salads and vegetables most of the time, and stopping when you’re full, was essential to keep feeling good.
- American snacks are delicious. If, like me, you enjoy salted chocolate and peanut butter, you’ll be in heaven. I found chocolate peanut protein bars, salted chocolate caramels and mini pretzels with peanut butter chocolate coating that I am still craving right now.
- The Atlantic ocean. I loved seeing how far out the waves start, and how the horizon just blends into the sky. Would it be as impressive a sight if I didn’t know my country was on the other side of it, how long the journey would be to cross it by boat? Would looking down along the coast be as compelling if one didn’t know how long it goes on for, how huge this continent is? I learned that on the east coast left is north and right is south, always, and on the west coast it’s the other way round. Something about that idea made me feel like I understood something about America in a way I couldn’t quite define. The Atlantic is grey and flat with small white-capped waves that leave foam and oil on the beach. There’s a strange psychological connection between two places that share an ocean. I haven’t seen the Pacific yet, and now I want to.
- The famous friendliness of strangers and service staff may be a cliché, but it really is true. Constantly bombarded with warm, open friendliness I found myself responding in kind, becoming more open, more sociable, more relaxed. I found myself greeting everyone I met with a sincere “Hello, how are you?” as a matter of course.
- People laugh more easily. It’s like most people are inclined to see the funny side in things, and you don’t have to have a razor-sharp wit to get a laugh. This sounds like an insult, but it’s actually a good thing. It’s nice to be considered hilarious when your jokes are mediocre; hilarity breeds hilarity; and laughing a lot makes everyone feel good.
- I was totally spoiled because of my accent. I got discounts in shops, and it seemed like everyone wanted to be my friend. This was initially embarrassing but did not at any point get old, even when I could hear my words start to lengthen and intonations start to take on that singsong mid-atlantic pattern. Even when I sounded American to myself, I still sounded British to them, and whenever I noticed my accent start to shift I became self-conscious, and it snapped back.
- Every hotel I’ve seen so far in America has been fucking ridiculous. In Atlantic City each hotel is like its own little resort with casinos and shops and restaurants and swimming pools, and even the standard rooms are luxury apartments by London standards. Whenever I thought I’d already seen the height of luxury, I went somewhere that was bigger, glitzier, more expensive, more well-appointed. You quickly lose your sense of proportion and start to think of your own hotel room as “nothing special” compared to bigger, better decorated suites, even when your room is as big as your whole flat back home, with marble tiled floors and floor to ceiling windows.
- This wealth is immediately – obviously – not universal. Even in Atlantic City the first thing I noticed were the ubiquitous cash-for-gold shops and the peeling, dilapidated buildings that tell a different story; as does the continued success of the casinos, with their capitalist myth of hope. We drove through downtown Philadelphia and I saw some of the poorer areas – tellingly, these crammed-in, run-down, multicultural urban spaces were the only ones during my entire trip that felt familiar to me. But in America it felt like wealth is judged on a different scale. Resources, space and food all seem cheaper and more abundant. America is really big: when you’re used to floorspace being the most expensive thing of all, there’s a sense in which everyone in America seems rich.
II. Philadelphia and Punished Brats
I flew out from Heathrow last Tuesday, April 16. I was up late the night before packing and finishing work on Dreams of Spanking updates, and got only four hours sleep. Still, I arrived at the airport in good time, and spent a while with my laptop charging, drinking tea and getting more work done. It was only when I was settled in at Costa that I realised I’d left home an hour earlier than I needed to! Still, better to be early than late; punctuality is something I’m working on at the moment.
The flight was pretty restful, although I was too excited to sleep. The plane was fairly empty so I was able to spread out across two seats, and even edit some spanking images on my laptop without anyone looking over my shoulder. I also watched Life of Pi, read my book, and read through my notes from the Texas Spanking Party last summer. I did a little work on the next blog post in that series, although I’m not sure if it’s worth posting at this late stage, nearly a year after it all happened. Perhaps I’ll finish posting about my 2012 TASSP adventures during TASSP 2013.
It was good to review my diaries and remind myself of mistakes I made during that party that I didn’t want to repeat; such as gorging myself on all the cheap, fatty food which left me feeling tired and bloated, and overfilling my schedule to the extent that I became totally frazzled. This time I promised myself better self-care.
As the plane landed and we all got up to collect our stuff, I suddenly recognised Mike from Correction Collection a few rows down from me. We’d been on the same flight all along! We had a hilarious catch-up conversation in front of everyone, with crucial keywords missing:
“Are you bringing your ____ with you?”
“Yes, I’ve got a lovely two tailed _____ which I want to show you, I think you’ll like it.”
I have no idea what people listening thought we were talking about. Small mammals?
I learned that Mike was vending at Boardwalk Badness Weekend, which was good news for me as I’d bought some of his products at the World Spain Party and they’d served me well since then. He told me he had decided to declare all his products at Customs, which was of interest to me as this was always something I’d been told not to do. (I later discovered that the border officials react very differently to copyrighted materials such as DVDs than they do to leather toys, so it’s a good job I didn’t try it.)
I was in front of him in the queue, so I went first. Here is how my conversation with the Customs official played out.
Her: “What are you doing in the US?”
Me: “Oh, I’m going to Atlantic City for a party this weekend with friends.”
“Atlantic City. And what state is that in?”
“New Jersey. Um, the same as this one?”
“No, you’re in Pennsylvania. So these friends, how do you know them?”
“From the internet, we have some mutual interests and talk a lot online, and every so often we get together for a party.”
“I see you were in Texas last summer, was that the same friends?”
“But that wasn’t for work.”
At this point she’s looking suspicious.
“So what sort of party is this exactly?”
“Just a party.” She’s not convinced. I’ve had four hours sleep and don’t know what to say. The longer the pause, the more suspicious she gets. “Look,” I say in the end with an embarrassed laugh, “the reason I’m hesitating is just that it’s sort of TMI.”
“Okay. It’s a fetish convention.”
Suddenly she couldn’t move me along quickly enough. “OKAY here you are all sorted there you go thankyougoodbye!”
I had no idea if my truthfulness was going to get Mike into worse trouble, but apparently she just asked him if he was going to the same party, and then said she had no interest in investigating his “commercial samples” thank you very much, so he was waved through just as easily. Compared to some of the stories you hear, it was a doddle.
David Pierson, the owner of Punished Brats, met me off the plane, which was a huge relief as I hadn’t heard anything from him until I was already on my way to the airport, and hadn’t been sure what would happen when I arrived. It was at this point that I learned that Leia Ann Woods was sick and couldn’t make it to our shoot. I was disappointed: I’d been looking forward to working with her.
David drove us to Doylestown, PA, which took a couple of hours, and he thoughtfully bought me dinner even though it was too early for him to want to eat (I however had been up for 18 hours by that point, and needed nutrients). I had salmon and broccoli, which was extremely welcome after a day of aeroplane food. I discovered that broccoli in the US is so much nicer than in the UK that it is practically a different vegetable. I don’t know why; perhaps it’s grown differently, or simply fresher? I clearly need to try growing my own and see.
Finally David drove me to the hotel, where I went to bed almost immediately and slept for over twelve hours. Not all in one go, admittedly – for some reason I woke up every hour and a half – but still, bliss.
David returned the next morning with Veronica Bound, the regular Punished Brats top with whom I was working instead of Leia Ann. She’d stepped in on short notice, and we talked and got to know each other as we drove to David’s house for the shoot. The weather was warm, very welcome after grey London, and his place was a large, lovely house in the woods, surrounded by chickens and sunlit trees.
Everywhere I was amazed by the scale of the houses and the space between them. Suburban Doylestown blew my mind: small businesses and shops all looking like large, detached country villas with shutters and porches. The “high street” was actually a long, broad, gently winding road of very posh houses, each surrounded by garden, hedges and with their own parking lot, only a wooden sign hanging discreetly above the door marking this one out as a hairdresser, that one as a clothing boutique or an accounting firm. I was told that this was an unusually historical part of town, with some buildings around a hundred years old. I definitely was not in England any more.
The shoot was great fun. Leia and I had initially been scheduled to do five short scenes each as a bottom and five as a top, but since Veronica doesn’t switch we were only doing five in total, so the day was a lot more relaxed. We opted for the maid storyline which had been written with Leia in mind as my employer.
David had bought me the uglest, baggiest, most shapeless housekeeping uniform in hospital green, and a grey green apron to go with it. “You can keep it!” he promised, all generosity. Lucky me. It made me look like an escapee from a mental asylum.
I don’t have any photos of it to show you yet, because Pixie and David have been kind and only posted the most flattering shots, in all of which I happen to not be wearing the ugly green tunic. Funny, that. We may have put our heads together to come up with scenarios that gave me a reason to take it off…
Still, the hideous uniform did give me some great opportunities for bratting. I played a haughty post-grad temping until she found a university job. “You want me to do what?? I have a Masters degree, you know!”
I complained at length about the housekeeping outfit, and insisted on accessorising it with elegant (“slutty” according to Veronica) lingerie and heels. These were duly confiscated, and I was forced to wear plain knickers and flats.
In the storyline, my employer and I got off to a bad start. Veronica was so rude she said afterwards she wouldn’t have worked for her, and I thought I was so rude I wouldn’t have hired me! In the first scene, she spanked me for putting her white top in the colours wash and turning it pink. After that, my character apparently shaped up for a few days, but when standards started to slip I was spanked again.
When I complained about this mistreatment, and bitched some more about the uniform, Veronica told me to take it off, and then proceeded to spank and paddle me kneeling on the wooden steps and wearing only the apron. The position was a challenging one, and being mounted on the steps made me feel particularly vulnerable. Then I was left to dust her office with my red bottom on display through the back of the apron. HOT!
In the third scene I was caught nosing through Veronica’s spanking implement collection; of course, I ended up over the bed getting the strap for going through her things. In the fourth scene, she accused me of breaking an antique family clock and took me over the knee. Throughout these episodes my character became increasingly vociferous and the hostility between us ramped up. By the end of this fourth spanking, throughout which of course I protested my innocence and the barbarity of my mistreatment, I told her I quit.
So it was that the last scene took place during my notice period, when I was still angry about being spanked and had nothing left to lose. While Veronica was out, I opened a bottle of her wine and ran myself a bubble bath.
Of course Veronica arrived home early, caught me, and I got caned naked and dripping with bubbles. Again I say: HOT.
Long-time fans might remember this scenario from my second ever spanking shoot, with Girls Boarding School. That was nearly seven years ago now, and it was fun to revisit the bathtub theme.
I had a blast working with David and Veronica. The shoot was such fun with a really great energy, and they didn’t mind me offering ideas and suggestions, which really helped me get into character and develop the storyline into one that made sense to me. I loved Veronica’s spankings and we shared some good hugs afterwards. She even let me brat her – well, I couldn’t help it, she kept bending over between scenes in ways that made her delectable behind such a tempting target!
Thanks so much to David and Veronica being so cool to work with. You can read David’s blog posts about the shoot here and here, and there’s a Pixie’s Previews too. I think the first scene might be up soon, so keep an eye on Punished Brats if you want to see how ugly that uniform really was. Trust me, it was something special.
A couple of weeks ago I was booked by the Camera Club to do a lunchtime session, posing for four photographers who took it in turns to take pictures. One of the photographers to come along was PWPimages, whom I’ve worked with several times now. I like his direction and communication, and I always feel like I do good work with him. We have other things in common, too: among other things, he’s a big fan of bottoms.
He’s just sent me some photos from the shoot and there are a few I liked enough to show you. We played with fashion and art nude, but it was the kinky outfits and lingerie this time that led to the stand-out images.
I really love that last picture.
It was the first time I’d worn my harem girl costume in a while, and this shoot inspired me to wear it out to a fetish club this weekend. I wore it to Imaginarium, our favourite steampunk fetish rave, with D last night, and it seemed to go down well – I got some lovely compliments, and felt suitably sexy even after I gave up on the silver-tipped heels and swapped them for my trainers so I could bounce around on the dancefloor. And I must say, those slit-leg harem pants really are very convenient for the couples area…
One thing I have not yet done in my harem girl outfit, however, is get spanked in it. Definitely something that needs to be remedied!
I first met Alex Reynolds at the Texas All State Spanking Party last year. By then I’d been reading her blog for a few months at least, and thanks to her candid writing style I already felt like I knew her pretty well. She was just as brilliant in person as I’d expected, and we had fun hanging out, including shooting a couple of scenes for my spanking site Dreams of Spanking and getting spanked together one night.
That encounter, plus almost another year of mutual blog-reading and Twitter in between, was somehow enough that when she mentioned she was coming to the UK on a shoot tour, it didn’t feel at all weird for me to invite her to stay as long as she liked. She ended up visiting for a week, during which time we got to know each other a lot better and discovered we had even more in common than we’d ever suspected. We also got up to about as many kinky hijinks and adventures as you’d expect when two spanking models and enthusiasts get together. This isn’t always the case, but I think Alex carries a cloud of high spanking probability around with her, and somehow spankings are much likely to occur in her vicinity.
After a first night hanging out and talking for hours, including under the covers after promising each other multiple times we were going to be good girls and go to sleep, the next day we headed to my local high street to pick up some clothes for spanking roleplays. Alex had been separated from one of her suitcases during a flight on the first leg of her journey (it was eventually returned to her home address, so she didn’t lose anything permanently, but she had a lot less with her on her trip than she’d planned) and I’ve been meaning for a while to buy some more toppy outfits for shoots and discipline sessions. We picked up a few cute items and both got what we needed. I also found a pair of new jeans which I’m rather pleased with:
That night I instigated a blogging date, hoping that Alex’s shining example would motivate me to keep this blog updated more regularly. I wanted to get this post written, and Alex was working on this one.
After an hour or so of diligent typing, I hit publish. “Yay, I beat you to posting first!” I crowed.
“Yay!” she replied, “I’m nearly ready to publish too!”
“Well done,” I said. I thought for a second. “I still beat you though. That means I get to actually beat you, right?”
This was a somewhat arbitrary bit of post facto rule-setting, but it seemed like an opportune moment to initiate an off-camera spanking and Alex was willing to play along. She lay over my knee on the sofa and I gave her a warm up with my hand, then told her to bend over for 10 whacks with my favourite heavy, long leather paddle. She knelt on the sofa and grabbed Fred, the snuggly dog who guards my sofa. (He’s also known as the Drop Dog, because he’s the perfect shape for dropping onto people’s heads. If you do it carefully he will just sit there on their scalp with all four limbs hanging down around their face.)
“Comfort her well, Drop Dog,” I intoned, “she’s going to need it.”
It was a playful little whacking, but she took it well. I got a real kick out of successfully initiating a scene, however short and silly, with someone I liked and respected so much. I hoped it wouldn’t be the last time we got to play during her stay.
Like me, Alex is polyamorous and in multiple dom/sub relationships as well as multiple sexy relationships (unlike me, in her case the two are mostly separate). Navigating scene encounters when you submit to more than one person but not everyone is sometimes tricky. I’ve found that I’ve had much less trouble with it since I started switching, but as someone who is mostly bottom, Alex has solved the problem another way: with a handy chart.
I had no pretentions of dominance towards Alex; I still identify more as top than dom (when I’m topping), although if it’s required, I enjoy giving dominance for short periods in negotiated scene space. “Bossing” however seems to occupy a weird space halfway between topping and domming.
On Friday, we were shooting for Dreams of Spanking with my partner Thomas Cameron and good friend Nimue Allen, who were arriving the night before. Alex had dropped various hints on Twitter and elsewhere that she liked the look of Tom, particularly in historical military costume. I knew that liking someone’s photos didn’t always equate to good chemistry in person, but it had occurred to me that if both seemed amenable, some off-camera spanking between Tom and Alex before the shoot might help them be more at ease with each other on the day.
Purely professional motivation, as a producer, you understand. No voyeuristic intent whatsoever.
As it happened, Alex’s second spanking of the week actually took place before Tom and Nimue arrived. I was just finishing up some work when Alex came in to chat to me. She mentioned a couple of things that were bothering her, including being apart from her various bosses, and seemed to generally be feeling out of sorts.
“Do you need a spanking, Alex?” I asked. (It was only later that I discovered that she lists being asked if I need to be spanked as one of her kinks on Fetlife.)
She immediately looked a bit brighter, but asked if that would be okay, and wanting to be a burden or anything. Obviously spanking cute girls in need is a trial and a chore for me, but still, it is a duty that I’m willing to bear. I took her over my knee.
This time the mood was a little less playful. I sat on the edge of the corner sofa so she could place her hands and feet on the floor while over my knee. By now I felt a little more certain of my ground, and I was fairly sure that any spanking I gave Alex wouldn’t seriously push at her tolerance. I also knew that only a “proper” spanking works to get rid of feelings of malaise, so I wanted her to feel sufficiently punished. So I didn’t start with “warm up” spanks, but began relatively firmly and briskly. I know that my hand spanking does not exactly compare to that of Malignus in terms of severity, but it elicited a few gasps in reaction. I maintained a steady pace to generate an appropriately disciplinary mood. At the same time I gently rested my other hand in the small of her back, or occasionally between her shoulder blade, in a gesture of reassurance.
Alex surrendered beautifully to the spanking, head and neck fully relaxed, only making the smallest vocalisations, but each one a small source of satisfaction to me. I spanked her thoroughly, paying attention to her thighs and crease. I paused a couple of times to give her some rubs and tell her she was a good girl, and once her bottom was pink and glowing, I finished up with a number of slow, hard spanks.
“I think that’ll do for now,” I said, returning to the rubs.
“I think so too,” she said. “Thank you.” I helped her up and we shared a long post-spanking hug.
This spanking felt mostly like service topping to me; helping out my friend who needed a spanking. After it, however, I started to feel like a little off-chart bossing of Alex that week might not be entirely rejected.
Anyway, Tom and Nimue arrived, dinner was had, and we sat around drinking wine and talking about various things from US politics to UK folk music. As the evening started to wind down, I noticed that Alex’s remarks about something she disliked were becoming petty, bordering on bitchy. I gave her a look. “Does someone need another spanking?”
Alex pouted a bit, and generally made “No … well … maybe” faces.
I cued Tom in with a glance. He leaned towards Alex. “I heard a rumour that you might be in need of a spanking before bed. Is now the time for that?”
Eventually her face resolved itself into “…Yes.”
I don’t know whether that counted as off-chart bossing on my part, or more like the co-bottoming “throwing under the bus” thing where you know your friend wants to play with a top and you helpfully nudge things to make it happen. Possibly it was both simultaneously. Hooray for switchy ambiguity!
Tom asked whether she wanted to be spanked without others watching, but she said that here would be okay. As a fellow pervert who liked them both and wanted to watch them get their spank on, that was also quite alright by me.
So Tom took Alex over his knee and I got the prime viewing seat behind her, watching as he slowly and thoroughly turned her bottom and thighs a vivid shade of pink. She started to sniffle after a while, and then to sob, but she didn’t resist, submitting absolutely to the spanking and the sensations. It was beautiful to watch.
Nimue, sitting beside me and grinning at me from time to time, commented on how pleasing Alex’s reactions were. I think I made a remark along the lines of how prettily she was pinkening up. When I’m being spanked in public, I find that sort of objectifying, appreciative commentary from any watching toppy types very hot, and I had a good guess that Alex would appreciate it too. (I checked with her afterwards, and she said she liked it, so that’s okay.)
The spanking was hard and went quite low on her thighs. These hard hand spanks to her crease and upper thighs were the main thing that was causing her to sob. I started to see some purple mottling on her thighs from Tom’s fingers, and moved forward for a closer look. Yeah, definitely some marking. “You might want to watch that,” I murmured to Tom with a gesture, “given we’re shooting tomorrow.”
I hunkered down by Alex and stroked her hair while Tom paused to inspect the damage. Again, it was simultaneously a moment of sympathetic fellowship, and toppy pride and reassurance. Tom pretty much had that side of things covered, though, as he asked if she wanted a hug and then gathered her up in his arms for some proper post-spanking cuddle time.
The next two days were taken up with shooting, and you can read all about that on the Dreams of Spanking blog if you like. I’ve posted some behind-the-scenes photos and in-jokes here, and a writeup of the scenarios we filmed with a whole bunch of preview pictures here.
Alex did get one impromptu off-chart bossy spanking late one night after we’d settled in bed. She hit me with her bear, I gave her a Look, realised I was going to have to act on it, sighed, flipped her over and spanked her as firmly as I could. Then I gave her twenty swats with the hairbrush, just to make my point. She was much better behaved after that as we snuggled down to sleep.
Alex bothering Fatface, and accidentally showing off her rather delicious pyjama-clad derrière.
Nimue, Alex and the stuffed animals in a cuddle pile!
Finally, on Wednesday this week, the time came for Alex to leave. I’d told her over the weekend that I wanted to give her a caning before she went away. The cane is my favourite implement, and it hadn’t come out during the shoot; I thought it would make a perfect farewell scene. I’d also discovered that she’d never experienced the light warm-up style of Californian caning which is my pet technique for showing non-cane-fans how pleasurable it can be. She was shooting with Northern Spanking in a couple of days, so I didn’t want to leave her marked; Californian style caning, with its rapid light percussive strokes, is perfect for this.
Once she was packed and we were waiting for Paul to arrive to collect her, I waited for an opportune moment. “I don’t know if I’m enough the boss of you to tell you to take a caning,” I said, “but I’d really like to, if you’re up for it.” She replied that she was, but she was also nervous about the cane’s tendency to leave lasting marks. I reassured her that I knew what I was doing and intended to be careful.
She knelt on the sofa once more, presenting her bottom nicely. I picked up a thin cane and began to bounce it off her bottom, patterning light strokes rhythmically over her cheeks until she started to relax. As the rain of light strokes continued I threw in the occasional slightly harder one, not enough to welt, but enough to make her wince. Then I pulled back to gentle rapid strokes again.
Once I thought she was as relaxed as she was going to get under the cane, I swapped the thin cane I was using for my new, thick, very lightweight cane which I’ve discovered is very hard to mark someone with. It weighs almost nothing, and has a bitey sort of thud but doesn’t do much skin damage, so it’s great for using between shoots. I gave her six strokes, which I asked her to count. They certainly seemed to get more of a reaction than my hand.
By the end of it she was perfectly pink, and she said that she liked it it more than she’d expected. In fact, she said she wouldn’t mind taking a harder six with that cane next time, when she doesn’t haven’t a shoot coming up. Or possibly during a shoot. Either way, that’s definitely something to look forward to.
It was weird having the flat to myself after Alex left, but I’m really glad I got to spend so much time with her. I’m next seeing her at Boardwalk Badness Weekend in April, and I’m hoping we’ll be able to steal a moment or two to catch up on chats and cuddles amidst everything else that we’ve both got scheduled that weekent. And maybe there’ll be time for another spanking, too.
In my fantasy, Tom tells me to put on a school uniform, an authentic one with a knee-length skirt and shirt buttoned up to the collar. He pulls out my desk chair into the middle of the room and sits down on it. I stand to one side of him, fidgeting with the hem of my skirt, until he tells me to lie across his knee.
He lifts my skirt and spanks me with his hand, slowly, thoroughly. He does not stop when I start to whimper, nor when I start to yell. His other hand curves around my middle, holding me secure. He spanks the resistance out of me, and continues to spank me long after I have surrendered limply over his lap.
After my spanking, Tom tells me to stand, and he gets up as well. Then I am to bend over and grip the seat of the chair with my hands. He chooses a cane. It is one of the thin, whippy ones I hate, the ones that slice viciously into the skin with a fierce sting that grows and grows. Subdued, I do not argue. In my fantasy the slashing, stinging cane bites into me again and again.
In chat the next day, I confided my fantasy to Tom. What we ended up talking about was how to successfully manipulate my headspace into one that was receptive enough to bring a scenario like that to life.
Indulging my sadism has nourished my masochistic impulses, but dominance has not made submission any easier. Now I’m topping regularly I find it easier to connect to the part of me that craves pain, but only if it’s the type of pain I would choose. Accepting pain on someone else’s terms (AKA submission) … well, that’s the tricky part.
The spanking I’d been craving was one with some degree of formality, of distance, in which I was made to feel a little smaller, somewhat stripped of my power, without being made to feel unsafe. That was the effect the uniform, the chair, the choice of cane all combined to achieve.
I mentioned these things Tom, but at the same time I had no desire to write the script for a scene. I wanted to communicate a desire, an idea. If I wanted to actually submit to him – and I did – ultimately the method and the choice had to be his.
If I started to struggle with the pain, or the type of pain he chose, I wanted to be reminded that I had voluntarily chosen to submit. I wanted him to challenge me to see it through.
In reality, it happened like this. The TV episode had come to an end. We agreed that we would play, and then eat, so I wasn’t bending over while full (never the comfiest). I straddled his lap, we kissed. Anxious that he not forget all-important details, I prompted him, “Do you want me to go and get changed?” He said that he thought that would be a good idea, and asked me to put on a short skirt and long socks. I skipped off to the bedroom, partly disappointed, partly glad that he hadn’t chosen something identical to my fantasy.
I picked out a red and white tartan mini, a black top, long black socks with white ribbons, and high heeled patent mary janes. It’s amazing what a difference dressing up makes to my headspace.
When I returned, shyly hoping he would like the ensemble, he was already sitting on my desk chair, in the middle of the floor. I barely had time to register the delicious nervous drop in my stomach before he was guiding me over his knee.
His lap was high and broad and solid. My toes touched the floor but I couldn’t put my heels down. The sensation of resting my weight on him, his knees pressing into my tummy, was very exciting.
Over new black lacy panties picked out for the occasion, the spanking began, slowly but surely. At first I squirmed impatiently, wanting it harder and faster. Then I began to relax into it.
Then it began to get hard.
He built it up slowly enough for me to absorb and accept each new level of pain, praising my obedience, telling me how good I was. By the end it was hard, hard, hard. I took it, sobbing, glorying in the pain of it, in the opportunity to show him my receptiveness. Part of me wished the spanking would bring me to tears, but I felt too safe to cry.
He let me up, kissed me, and told me to bend over the sofa and wait as he went to fetch implements. I pulled the end piece of my corner sofa around so the back faced the room, leaned over it and rested my elbows on the seat. Then I changed my mind, stood up again and tucked a couple of pillows under my hips before bending over again. Thus padded, it was a good position. I felt uplifted, exposed, and comfortable.
My warmup continued with the long, heavy leather paddle. I soaked up the strokes. Next came my new thick, light cane, the one that’s easy to aim and easy to take, but still with a real bite to it. I counted out my twenty four (or was it thirty six?) strokes, sinking deeper and deeper into the heat and security of the moment.
Once he deemed me toasty enough, he swapped the cane for a riding crop. I felt a shiver of fear. It had been a while since he’d cropped me, and I remembered it hurting a lot. This certainly wasn’t a pain I would have chosen.
On the other hand, I’d just come back from a shoot on which I’d whipped two spankees with the very same riding crop, which gave me an added incentive to shut up and take it.
Tom hunkered down next to me. He murmured in my ear. I can’t remember exactly what he said, but his voice was reassuring. He told me that he was going to push me, but he was going to build up to it. He warned me that the whipping might not be as slow-paced as I would like. He asked me to trust him to read me well, and to stop when he was ready. Would I do that for him?
At first, he used the crop at a strength that allowed me to fully savour the sensation, assess and appreciate all its subtleties: the springy stem with its deep thud, the distinctive bite of the tip. Then the cropping moved into a perfect pulse and rhythm, in time with my heartbeat perhaps, where I felt beautifully in tune with it. It was painful, it was hot, and I was riding it. I felt kinky and submissive and strong.
Then it got a little quicker – or a little harder – or both. My heart beat faster. I started to cry out, not just delicate little ladylike cries; I started to kick and swear. The crop whipped down remorselessly on the most sensitive parts of my cheeks, too fast for me to catch my breath. I wasn’t riding anything any more: I’d fallen under the horse. I was twisting about and shrieking and begging, “Please – please – please!”
Finally, he stopped. I was panting, feeling simultaneously sorry for myself and proud of myself. I’m not entirely sure what happened next, whether he cropped me any more after that.
I do remember that after we’d put the sofa back together, he’d taken some pictures and cuddled me, he told me that he planned to beat me more after dinner. I was thinking clearly enough by then to be aware that “later” beatings could not always be relied upon, and that I very definitely wanted to be beaten more now. I asked if he wouldn’t mind giving me a quick six of the best with his heavy 12mm dragon cane before we stopped.
“Well,” he smiled, “since you asked so nicely.”
Back I went over the end piece of the corner sofa – kneeling on the seat, this time, with my elbows on the back. I was in the full giggly glow of an endorphin high, so the mood now was more light-hearted. He counted for me, so I had nothing to do except exclaim over how much each stroke fucking hurt.
The pain of a cane stroke is slow to develop and slow to fade, and he paced these six very deliberately so that each one landed just as the pain of the previous one was in full flower. Like the most intense part of the cropping, the pace was ever so slightly too fast, so that I never had time to process or recover until the whole six was over, and I was flopped and gasping and laughing and shaking my head.
After that, I definitely felt done. And as it happened, I didn’t get beaten later after all, so I’m very glad I got that last, satisfying six when I did.
2013 has been a good year so far. Good, but busy. I’m always juggling several workloads, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way – I thrive on variety, and switching my focus regularly from project to project helps keep me fresh and motivated.
Since October I’ve been living alone in a spacious ground floor flat right on the north edge of London, an Edwardian conversion with a lovely garden. I love it. The flat; and the living alone, which suits me extremely well. I like inviting people back and then having the place to myself again. I like how once I’ve tidied it, it stays tidy until I mess it up. I like being able to just get work done until it’s finished without having to worry about ignoring anyone. No doubt living with partners again is part of my future, but I can see myself staying here for a while, a couple of years at least.
Partly in order to afford the rent, I’ve been sessioning a lot the last few months. I’ve really connected with my dominant side recently, and I feel like I’ve finally found my voice as a top. Top sessions make me very, very happy. I enjoy switch dynamics with some clients, but for the most part what I want to do is top, top, top. The more I do it, the more it whets my appetite. It’s the perfect outlet for the desires I can’t express within my current relationships, and great training for playing top roles on video.
I’ve been doing more of that, too, spanking both men and women on recent shoots for Dreams of Spanking. Few things make me feel more lucky.
I’ve just come back from a relatively large-scale production for Dreams of Spanking, which I’d spent several weeks planning. I’d also been saving up my earnings from sessions in February to pay for it. Two days, three spankees and one crew member plus me in a beautiful London location. We got a lot done, but I overreached myself a bit, casting myself as the top in most of the scenes (my budget couldn’t quite stretch to hiring another performer), and not leaving myself enough time to do important behind the scenes work. I am learning my limits still. But we got good work done, thanks to the talent and hard work of everyone else on set. I’m particularly indebted to Hywel Phillips.
So that was a big deal, and now that it’s wrapped I’m enjoying having a little more free time to spend on other things. Since I got home my living room has been brightened by the beautiful early daffodils Caroline Grey gave me. I love her to bits.
That will be my last big shoot for a while, but I have various small ones planned around the schedules of favourite international performers who are visiting the UK this year. Alex Reynolds is coming to stay with me next week, and we’ll be shooting together for both Dreams of Spanking and Nimue’s World. We’re also doing a day of 221 sessions and have two afternoon appointments left, so shout if you’re interested in getting spanked alongside Alex, or spanking us both – or both!
What else? I’m attending Boardwalk Badness Weekend in Atlantic City this April, where I will be sharing a room with Jade of Kink and Poly. I’m taking bookings for switch and top sessions while I’m there, and I’ve also been hired for a couple of spanking shoots, including a day with Punished Brats alongside the lovely Leia Ann Woods, which I am ridiculously excited about, and some scenes with Dana Kane and Sarah Gregory.
So I’ll be doing a lot more topping this year, one way or another. Sessions are providing a lot of inspiration for video; I keep on putting together hot toppy outfits, or playing amazing roleplays, and then making a mental note to try and recreate them on camera. I don’t have any official “domme” photos of me yet, but here are some snaps from recent sessions of me in top mode:
I still want and need to be spanked, of course, and go a bit nuts if I go too long between getting whacked. But interestingly, I’ve discovered that it’s only certain spankings, by a select few, that scratch the itch. At this point in my life it feels right to bottom to my boyfriends; on spanking shoots; and to a few chosen friends at play parties. That’s enough for me.
It’s only my boyfriends I ever feel actually submissive towards: with everyone else, even when I’m bottoming, I’m often cheerfully toppy. And you know what? I’m okay with that.
Alongside all this personal evolution, I’ve also been working on my physique; eating healthily, cutting back on booze, and spending time on yoga and weightlifting to try and improve my strength and flexibility. The drinking thing was actually because I identified it as a trigger for my anxiety, but I’m sure it’s having physical benefits too. It’s nice to have a bit more muscle tone, and I think it’s even starting to show in photos – although it’s hard to make enough time, so progress is slow. I’ve also been enjoying other forms of movement, picking up my hula hoop again and taking up parkour training with D. (I even tried to combine the two the other day, with hilarious results.)
Overall, I feel like I’m a good place right now. I’ve healed from the traumas of last year and learned from the mistakes, I’m enjoying my independence and continuing to work on self-improvement. There have been stresses too of course, as life is never plain sailing, but I know I’m doing the best I can, and I feel increasingly resilient.
So I’m busy, and happy, but it’s not all been work work work. My other aim for this year is to settle down into more of a routine and schedule in more relaxation time. Gardening, painting, exercise, holidays and festivals are all things I didn’t do enough of last year. So I’ve booked a real, actual holiday in June, not a work trip, an actual holiday in France with Tom and my parents. I’ll also have some quality time away in August and, hopefully, a week later in the year as well.
D has also been working hard this year, on a contract with an unpleasantly long commute, and so my time with him has been limited to weekends. This has actually been really good for me; it’s forced me to be more disciplined with my time, and get all my work done by the end of Friday so I can spend the weekend with him. When you run your own business it’s too easy to work through the weekends, as there’s always more that needs doing. And when I’m spending time at home with a partner, it’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking I can “just spend an hour” on my computer finishing up this or that. But if I’m going away for the weekend, I really do have to get everything done before I go. I feel like I’ve become more efficient and more productive as a result, and no doubt the days off have done me good, too. D and I have spent some lovely weekends going clubbing, working out together, seeing friends, and cuddling.
The weekly date format has also resulted in some quite frankly fantastic sex. Our connection feels very good and strong at the moment. One memorable scene took place the weekend before last, pretty much exactly where I’m sitting, in my lounge on a Friday night. We’d been cuddling together and looking at some new code he’d written for an online shop we’re in the process of building for Spanking Princess Kelley, which I’m really excited about. We were kissing, and then he was bending me over with my hands on the sofa and pulling my jeans and knickers down to my knees. He stood back, doubled his black leather belt, and began to whip me. It hurt, and the angle meant my right cheek was getting the brunt of it, but I was so hungry for play with him I ate it all up. Afterwards we indulged in some vigorous fucking on the carpet, followed by steak and snuggling in front of science documentaries. I could get used to dates like that.
By way of proof that I do still love to be spanked, I’ll leave you with these pictures from a recent switch session. The nightie was a present from my playmate. Isn’t it pretty?