To my delight, more and more spanking models are launching their own sites. This isn't a new phenomenon - some of the oldest and best sites around are performer-led - but it's pleasing to see the numbers increase. After all, what better way to ensure that the porn you're watching is ethical than to know it's independent and homegrown, with no directors or decision-makers other than the primary spankee? When, like me, you prefer to watch scenarios with a non-consensual edge, that security becomes all the more important.
My own baby will be some time in coming, but US model Sarah Gregory has recently launched her own site, Sarah Gregory Spanking, which I've been watching with great interest, and which seems to be reaching a consistently high standard with a strong sense of authenticity and fun. And to my great pleasure, other UK models are getting in on the action - such as the geeky, poly, switchy Nimue, whose forthcoming site will be live at NimuesWorld.com sometime in the next few months.
Like mine, Nimue's kinks bridge the boundaries of BDSM and spanking, and her site will reflect her broad range of interests from traditional CP to bondage, D/s and hot queer action. When she had a model cancellation last week I jumped at the chance to help out a fellow lady entrepreneur, and get a sneaky preview into what her project was about while I was at it.
In the intervening week I managed to come down with a hell of a cold, and even after three days of reluctant bedrest I still wasn't quite 100% come Monday. The situation wasn't improved by a night of bizarrely persistent insomnia, despite the help of Night Nurse and D's very comfy bed. Still, I made it onto the early train, and in the event my croaky voice was more of a hindrance than the sleep deprivation. Nimue was very understanding about the lack of voice (huskiness is less forgivable in schoolgirls than vanilla adult porn!) and I kept tiredness at bay with performance adrenaline, and a constant stream of cups of tea.
The first clip went through several changes of plan. Originally it was meant to be a piano lesson with some hand caning - until we found out that the piano space in the studio was more industrial decay than schoolroom. Nimue suggested a student sneaking into an old junkroom or attic to play without permission, but that lovely idea was scuppered by the loud building works taking place overhead. So we moved into the classroom setup - but now I needed something to be punished for.
I floated an idea based an email I'd received, a true school story of the day my correspondent wore two pairs of pants to detention, fearing that they'd get whacked. They weren't - but oh, what if they had! We decided to take it to extremes: I put on as many pairs of knickers as I physically could.
The trickiest bit was getting it to look reasonably inconspicuous from the outside. If I'd had advance warning I'd have packed some gym knickers to go on top, but I had to make do with layering a pair of black shorts with a pair of black briefs; one covering the hems underneath at the top, one at the bottom. Below them I had three pairs of patterned knickers and one pair of white shorts. A knicker fetishist's bonanza! They felt slightly odd to sit on, delightfully silly and ever so naughty. I had to struggle to keep a straight face as I sat in detention, writing out lines.
As I bend over for the inevitable tawse, the teacher's suspicions are raised by the unusual sound it makes - and the fact I'm taking the strokes far better than he expected. My cunning ruse is rumbled! So, of course, I'm taken over the knee and spanked over each pair of knickers in turn, the spanking becoming increasingly effective until it reaches bare flesh.
Not only that, but I'm awarded a stroke of the cane for every pair until I've learned that 'cheats don't prosper'.
I actually ended up getting about 12 strokes so we could get the different camera angles we needed. Not that I minded. I don't usually need much persuasion to take the cane.
The next scene was Nimue's chance to get in front of the camera and be a prize bitch. We were two fashion models, conveniently allowing cameraman to play photographer and our real photographer to take stills while we were filming, with flashes for once in character.
Jealous of being put in flat shoes while her taller co-model towers over her in heels, Nimue gets her revenge - and gives the photographer some shots he wasn't quite expecting.
Finally, we did something new for me, although not so much for Nimue. Although BDSM activities are a regular part of my private sex play, they aren't something I do much on camera - and until now, only if I was shooting with one of my partners. When I found out that Nimue was after some BDSM content, I realised that my habitual reticence is mostly my reluctance to do this sort of thing with male tops - I hadn't had the opportunity to film a BDSM scene with a woman before.
We discussed my limits: no intimate touching below the waist, but breast play is fine; pinwheels and electricity aren't hot for me; bondage clamps, gags, blindfolds, kissing, throat/breath play and whipping all good. I was also up for some hot wax, but the candles didn't get packed. Next time!
We set up a simple little D/s scene on the four poster bed. No acting, no complicated plot, just two people connecting. I wore wrist and ankle cuffs, and crawled in at my lady's summons. She put me in a chest harness and tied me spreadeagled on the bed. The position was superficially comfortable, but I quickly realised what a strain it put on my thighs, and by the end they were shaking. I was teased, tormented, and thoroughly toyed with. Nimue experimented on me playfully, carefully, always measuring my reactions, her eye contact warm and constant. I quickly developed a healthy respect for her sadism, but it still felt natural to grin and make the occasional pert remark.
It was the first time I'd explored a new D/s connection with someone on camera, and it was fascinating. It was clearly bounded by professional limits, and didn't contain the depth or passion of my romantic partnerships - but the energy and trust we exchanged was real, and I felt very comfortable and safe in Nimue's hands.
And, I'll admit, it was hot. She whipped my vulnerable chest and belly with a tiny, sharp-thonged flogger; made me jump and squirm with cruel smacks on the front of my stockinged thighs; attached clamps to my nipples and hung weights off the chain; slapped my breasts a lot and caned them with a thin switch. Yeah, it was hot.
As I headed home, hindered by tiredness, it took me some time to get my head around the newness of the experience, the things it was and the things it was not. I felt unusually chaste that evening, despite the company of the lovely Penny; played out for the day, perhaps, or just physically exhausted. But that was just an adjustment process; I have no regrets whatsoever. What a lovely treat to enjoy such pleasures as part of one's job. I definitely wouldn't object to doing it again, if the circumstances are right.
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