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the deal with stockings

Posted at 20:23 on 5 Oct 2009 by Pandora / Blake

I go through stockings at a ridiculous rate. I don't know if it's the shoes I wear, the way I walk or something else, but no matter how much I trim my toenails and keep my feet soft and moisturised, I can't wear a pair of stockings without them becoming laddered by the time I take them off. D. used to enjoy buying me seamed, fully-fashioned stockings, but after years of none of them lasting the night unscathed, both of us have kind of giving up on wearing them for fun. We still love them, but it's an expensive habit to maintain.

These days, unless I have an excuse like a film shoot or a black tie ball, I tend to buy cheap and cheerful stockings from pharmacies and newsagents. In my experience, they last longer than the posh ones, even if they don't look as good. (Right now, I'm wearing a pair of nude stockings I bought for a session with Zoe Montana last week and never wore. They don't really go with the black suspender belt. I need new suspender belts. Now those are worthwhile investments: they tend to last.)

For months after I moved into my current flat, however, I couldn't find anywhere local to buy stockings in a hurry. I need stockings in a hurry more times than not: when I'm hearing out for a date with one of my Doms, or for a shoot, and have forgotten to stock up in advance (i.e. every time). There's a big supermarket down the road with a clothing section, but the few times I tried it I could only find tights and knee-highs.

The next time D. asked me to wear stockings for him, I complained that I didn't have any unladdered ones, and that there wasn't anywhere en route to his where I could pick some up. "What about the supermarket?" he asked. I explained the inferior nature of their lingerie department. "Rubbish," he said. "They definitely sell stockings. I've seen them."

"They don't. I've checked."

"They certainly do." We glared at each other, only half-serious, but each convinced we were right. Eventually D. broke the impasse. "Look. Next time we're there together, we will check, okay? And I'll make you a deal. If I'm right and you're wrong, then we buy some stockings and you get spanked in them."

I considered. "What if I'm right?"

"Then we don't buy stockings, you get to feel smug, and you get spanked anyway. Deal?"

Well, you can't say fairer than that: "Deal."

The egalitarian nature of our bargain makes the end of this story a little obvious, but a single element of mystery remains. Did I get spanked while wearing stockings, or with legs bared?

Take a look for yourself:

Yup. He was right. So much for all those frustrated stocking-less evenings: they were available on my doorstep, all along.

The only consolation to my wounded pride is that these supermarket stockings were of a decidedly inferior quality, snagged before they were even out of the packet. Fortunately, the quality of the spanking more than made up for it.

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Tags: D, kink, Lady Sonia, Photos


spanked in jodphurs

Posted at 21:54 on 26 Feb 2009 by Pandora / Blake

My workload has doubled in the last week, which is great in terms of earning money to spend on making spanking films, but less good in terms of having time to blog. Or sleep. I'm contracting in several different offices on different days of the week, and while the work is really cool, I've been mostly running on adrenaline and caffeine. And I was late to work this morning. (I stayed later this evening to make up, though, so that's okay. Right?)

I have not, however, fallen asleep at my desk yet. And hopefully will manage to survive the busy period without doing so. However, if I did, I'd like to think that my employers would handle it like Lady Sonia...

Well, what else would you do if you came into your reception room one morning to discover your stablegirl hungover and dozing when she should be working?

Especially when you have guests arriving any moment? And your stablegirl did exactly the same thing last week? And the week before that?

Well, quite. It's enough to make you wonder if she's doing it deliberately, just because she enjoys bending over your fetchingly-clad knee.

Sadly, reality does not mirror fantasy in this instance. I have neither enjoyed a wild night out this week, nor do I have a boss who looks this hot in jodphurs.

But sometimes it's fun to pretend.

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Tags: Fantasies, Lady Sonia, Photos


work and play

Posted at 23:24 on 19 Nov 2008 by Pandora / Blake

Life has been too full of the boring kind of work lately. As I left London this morning with a bag full of stockings and heels I felt a tangible lightening of the spirit, and the weather kept my mood company with a gloriously bright afternoon. As I was waiting for my train home at the end of the day I realised that I was completely happy. It makes such a difference, working with lovely people doing something you enjoy. Between shoots it's easy to forget that sense of liberation, forget that work can feel like play when you're doing something you love.

Scenes from today's shoot with Lady Sonia:

  • Sonia and I, trapped in her changing room while a BT engineer appears on a surprise visit to look at their broadband. We're wearing far too little to escape through the room he was working in, and have to delay the start of filming until he goes away. We perch on her dressing table and spend a delightful half hour gossiping about life, love and everything.

  • Sonia makes me try on about half a dozen different pairs of knickers in the first scene (and whips me in every pair, of course). This would be fine if not for the fact that I am also wearing ridiculously high heels. If I try to take them off or put them on while standing up I overbalance, and if I'm sitting down then one of the stilettos invariably snags on the panties with my leg sticking sideways at an odd angle. Classy.

  • "Okay," says Sonia, "so then the third scene is the one with the balloons. Both of us wearing tights, being very touchy feely."

    "I'm good with that. What am I meant to do with the balloons?"

    "I'm not sure, we'll make something up. Then the fourth clip is the one with me wearing a strap-on."

  • Me bouncing a balloon off Sonia's nose, halfway through a Very Serious Scene (ahem), and her collapsing into giggles ... but we keep on filming. As we're walking off camera I casually punt a balloon into the camera lens.

  • I spend ages before the last scene getting laced into my corset, adjusting my see-through blouse and manouvering my black latex skirt so it just skims my sweet spot. Before the cameras start rolling I slide my fingers inside the rubber one last time to smooth out any creases ... when the latex suddenly snaps at the weakened seam, there's a huge rip in my skirt and I'm showing even more skin than I was already.

    "SHIT!" I exclaim, flapping at the useless piece of latex and trying not to giggle. We have an emergency discussion and I come up with the genius idea of destroying the skirt on camera, since it's ruined anyway. I cunningly hide the tear with my hand and we start filming. Sonia fabricates an excuse about my skirt not being short enough, and pulls out a long pair of scissors. The blade is cold as it slides beneath the latex, exposing skin already damp with sweat.

    Afterwards I bounce over-excitedly on my six-inch heels and demand that we buy an entire disposable outfit for Sonia to cut me out of next time. Damn, that was hot.

I'm not going to tell you exactly what she did with the strap-on, but the cameraman commented afterwards that I must be very popular with the boys.

(Screencaps taken from my first shoot with Punishment Bitch; the clips from today should be going online in a few weeks.)

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Tags: Lady Sonia, Photos, shoot writeups


Lady Sonia

Posted at 17:53 on 24 Oct 2008 by Pandora / Blake

I went up to the midlands to shoot again with Punishment Bitch this week. I'm seriously enjoying the chemistry that's developing between Sonia and I. They've invited me back in November and I can't wait.

The preview page for Punishment Bitch isn't very promising at the moment, but the site contains more content than is first apparent. It's a subsite of Lady Sonia, a very popular fetish site specialising in stockings, stilettos, MILF, equestrian and mild F/m, all with a very genteel English aesthetic. Not my kind of porn, really, but the couple who run the site are lovely, and I've learned a lot from talking to them. They started Punishment Bitch a few months ago and let it slide due to lack of interest, but have recently started updating it regularly again by request.

So far there are high-def videos of me, Leia-Ann Woods, Wynter Skye and Sascha Harvey being spanked and tormented by the formidable Sonia, which isn't a bad tally by anyone's standards. I've been recommending other UK spanking models to them as well, and they seem keen to develop this side of their work. For me, it's fascinating working in the cross-section between spanking and more mainstream porn. Most CP material isn't explicitly erotic, and Sonia's films are all extremely sensual. Straightforward, po-faced punishment wouldn't have been appropriate, so instead we flirted with humiliation roleplay, blackmail and other situations of compromised consent, with Sonia outwardly delighting in her sadism and my characters responding despite themselves.

I couldn't do sexy scenes like this with just anyone. Trust and professionalism are paramount. Sonia makes it easy in every respect, and I'm definitely looking forward to working with her again.

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Tags: Lady Sonia, Photos, shoot writeups


ups and downs

Posted at 18:53 on 8 Oct 2008 by Pandora / Blake

Coming above ground at Kings Cross this morning, I took the steps two at a time, wincing as my rucksack bounced against my back. No matter how carefully I pack my bag, somehow a spike heel always ends up digging into the small of my back. Never mind the spanking - when I get home from a shoot I'm much more likely to be bruised by shoes.

The shoot is with Punishment Bitch, one of the Lady Sonia group of sites. Sonia herself is a slender and self-possessed woman in her prime, with eyes that are impossible to look away from. We drive to the studio and talk shop.

Studios are odd places, never inhabited but constantly striving to seem real. And yet real things have happened here, real conversations, real spankings, real sex. It doesn't count when the cameras are rolling but the ghost of it lingers; studios have a feel similar to school playgrounds, clamouring with the echos of the humans that fleetingly spent their time here.

This one takes up the top floor of an old building. Mouldy sofas and dry, rusty washbasins punctuate the long climb to the top floor. The walls of the stairway are peeling. Inside, a space that could be a glorious loft apartment is messy and thrown-together, mismatched rooms chopped in amongst each other. Inflatable sofas compete with disembodied enamel bathtubs; an Edwardian parlour is tucked away beside a stable reeking of two-year-old hay bales; graffitied walls float from the ceiling, connected to nothing. You don't ever want to lie on the beds.

I make tea, we joke and laugh about the studio, Sonia and I get ready. I relax. Once I'm working it's easy, I know what I'm doing. There's something scintillating about shooting that never gets old no matter how many times you do it. The silk stockings and the fetish heels make me feel sexy, and I'm working with a woman who is effortlessly glamorous. The director doesn't need a story for the spanking but we, the actors, the women, do: we come up with one between us, and enjoy the sarcastic, erotic banter even if none of the viewers do. Our characters are competing for power over each other and it becomes a game of wits, culminating in a punchline. At this stage it's mostly "sensual" pattycake spanking and the improvisation is more exhilirating.

Soon, though, our minds and my bottom are warmed up, and we start to connect, the dialogue becomes more convincing and our body language starts to sync. She whips me with a riding crop and I hiss between my teeth at the sudden panic of hurt. Breathe through it, remember you can do this, remember this is what you're being paid for, don't you dare wimp out now. Whimper, remember that crying out helps, let myself squeal at the next cutting stroke. Sonia mocks me for that - "you felt that one, didn't you?" - and that helps too. I muster my courage and struggle my way through two more strokes before my body finally catches up and a slow wave of endorphines settles over me like a blanket. Mellow now. I arc to meet each stroke. When she stops, I don't want her to.

On the train home I squeeze my legs together, remembering my wetness at the end of that last scene, grateful that they were professional enough to spare my blushes and not comment. There's a sharp line between my exhibitionist self on camera, willing to be exposed and shamed, willing to be seen to enjoy it, and my professional self off camera, laughing and wry and determinedly disengaged. Ironically, the closer the trust and connection with the models I'm working with, the more inclined I am to keep my two selves separate. I can flirt as much as I like on camera, be as aroused and helpless as I like, because I can trust them to not think it's real. Which liberates me enough to make it real, but not in a way I'm prepared to share. This is my own enjoyment, and it's a blessing and a curse.

Lust torments me all the way home. By the time I reach my front door I'm drained and exhausted. My phone has run out of battery and Tom's meant to be coming round tonight but I don't know when and maybe he won't. The endorphine crash leaves me listless and melancholy. I spend a little time relieving the ache that has been building since that session with the crop, and afterwards I weep at stupid things and mope around the house getting nothing done.

Then I pull myself together, make some tea, and give myself a stern telling-off for (yet again) not predicting the endorphine crash and looking after myself properly. I should know by now to have chocolate in the house after a shoot. Lust gives way to exhaustion, and when Tom arrives I won't know whether to tear my clothes off and throw myself at him, or curl up in his arms and demand cuddles. I want to be whipped again, I want to share some of the spark and energy from today's shoot with my beloved, I want to offer some of that energy to him. But I'm physically drained, and connecting with my real boyfriend when half my head is still being whipped by Sonia is always difficult to navigate.

I've done this so many times, and I'm still not used to it.

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Tags: Lady Sonia, learning curves, meta-analysis, shoot writeups


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