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Four's company

Posted at 22:29 on 21 Oct 2011 by Pandora / Blake

A little while ago I got a message from Jacq. She said: "Did I tell you the realisation I had recently? I don't think I'm actually enjoying the being hit itself more than I used to, I think the thing that does it for me is the marks. I'm not certain that's what it is, but there is a reason I'm enjoying it more and I'm always sad when the marks fade, so..."

My first, irrational, reaction was dismay. She didn't enjoy the spankings themselves? I'm a feedback junkie: my pleasure as a sadist is directly fuelled by the enjoyment of my bottom. If Jacq wasn't into spankings per se, the idea of spanking her lost a lot of its thrill.

Then I read what she'd actually said: not that she didn't like being spanked, just that she didn't like the spanking itself more than she used to. I knew already that spanking wasn't her primary kink in the same way it is mine, but that it was a kink and she loved the power exchange. A third re-reading and it sunk in that - hey! She was enjoying it more than she used to! That's kind of awesome. So, right, clearly the thing to do was ensure that we gave her marks to remember next time we played.

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Tags: big black stick, cane, D, featured photos, Jacq, kink, otk spanking, paddle, Penny D, Photos, polyamory, switching, Thomas Cameron

26 comments

2010 redux, 2011 resolutions

Posted at 17:47 on 3 Jan 2011 by Pandora / Blake

Happy new year, kinksters! How's 2011 shaping up for you so far? I've had a lovely, low-key few days, mostly taken up with cooking and housework, but also picking up the project threads laid aside over Christmas, scenting that new year energy on the wind.

Twelve months ago I wrote a long kinky retrospective on the year just gone. The picture that emerged was of a whirlwind of work and creative projects, at the expense of personal time and private explorations.

My resolutions were a bit long-winded, but they boiled down to four key points for improvement. Did I manage to achieve them in 2010?

1. For Tom and I to move in together, and hopefully find more time for play and domestic discipline as a result.

A half win. Most of this year has been dominated by Tom's new business start-up, which is currently struggling through its first winter but hasn't gone bust yet. I've given an awful lot of time to it, but he's given more. While in many ways he is much happier and the changes have improved both our lives, the stress of starting a new business has been very detrimental to his physical health.

Our partnership has grown and strengthened - we've had some rough patches, worked through them, and right now are greatly enjoying each other and the prospect of a shared future. Living with him, getting to see so much more of him, sharing so many experiences with him, has been great. But sex and play have been off his radar for most of the last six months. Polyamory (and lots of talking) has helped me learn patience without pressuring him, but I'll have to wait a little longer before improvements start spilling over into our shared sex and kink life.

That said, Tom and I have had a couple of epic threesomes this year, a fun video shoot with Ludwig and Kaelah, and a brilliant photoshoot with Adele and Jimmy - plus a few memorable play evenings regardless. So I can't complain too much.

As for increased D/s structure - Tom has been willing but we've both been aware of his limits, and he hasn't needed me to burden him with extra responsibility. Strangely enough I've recently started exploring this side of things with D, which is new for us. More on that later.

2. To launch my new site.

Nope, pretty much entirely for the above reasons. I've given half my year to Tom's business, and the rest of my time has been taken up by earning a living, political activism, and doing less of that overworking thing, and more of that resting and socialising thing. (Ha! Well, a bit.)

That said, I've turned things around in the last 6 weeks and have been throwing myself at the project every spare moment I have. I have plans for fundraising and investment, I've made progress with editing, post-production and brand development, I've got money put aside for the site build and I've had a couple of great shoots. I may not have achieved my aim, but I'm leaving the year feeling motivated, driven and totally fired up about this project, and I'm confident that one way or another, I can make it happen, on my own terms and in my own time.

If I make one kinky resolution for the year ahead, this is it.

3. Develop a private D/s connection with a woman (specifically, with the lovely Penny D) and generally enjoy kinky play with more ladies.

I'm happy to report that 2010 was a total win on this front. I'm going into 2011 on the arm of a dominant lady as well as my lovely men, and Penny and I have had all sorts of good times together this year, including an outing to Club Subversion. I've enjoyed bottoming to the delicious Adele Haze on a couple of memorable occasions, including a double caning from her and Abel back in January. In fact I've not had a shortage of new female lovers with a taste for spanking me, and have enjoyed hot dates with March Middleton and Serafina. I continue to be amazed at my good fortune.

Finishing School was also a landmark here - a whole weekend roleplaying with the sublime Lucy McLean and Amy Hunter (culminating in another double caning - the second of three this year, which is a theme I wholly approve of!) It turns out that I find playing with friends on a social basis (rather than with lovers on a romantic one) far easier and more appealing if the friends in question are female. Lucy and Amy provided a blinding initiation into the joys of immersive group roleplay, and I loved every minute of it. I hope to carry this trend into 2011 - I'd love to attend more roleplay events, and there are one or two lovely switches among my kinky friends that I'm keeping an interested eye on. (Look out, ladies...)

4. Generally, spending more time and energy on socialising, meeting new people and lovers, and quality time with my partners.

I think I can safely say I managed this one as well. As well as the delights described above (plus a couple of unnamed others!), paradoxically, my relationship with D has thrived since moving away from London. Long distance does seem to suit us, and the second half of this year has brought unexpected renewal, romance and kink to our partnership.

I've still tended to overwork this year, and accumulated more long-term fatigue over the summer, but I've got better at resting sensibly to recover from it. Life feels pretty good at the moment, and I'm really looking forward to the challenges and new adventures 2011 has to offer.

Reading your comments on last year's post, I'm pleased to see that some of you have fulfilled your 2010 resolutions, as well. I hope 2011 brings you everything you hope for, and more!

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Tags: Adele Haze, D, dominance and submission, kink, learning curves, Penny D, Photos, porn production, Subbing to women, Thomas Cameron

15 comments

Happy bottom

Posted at 23:22 on 4 Oct 2010 by Pandora / Blake

After a dry summer, the last week has been outrageously kinky. Last Wednesday I spent 7 hours on the set of a shoot for a brand new spanking site, during which we produced 6 films with accompanying stills and 2 separate photosets. It was intense and enjoyable and physically exhausting, and I'll tell you all about it tomorrow.

On Thursday I shared a new professional kinky experience with my delightful Penny D; her first forays into such waters, and she took to them as naturally as the selkie I always suspected she was. (The Scottish kind, of course, not Cornish). Lots of energy exchanged; exhiliration; learning curves; huge amounts of job satisfaction. That, too, will have to wait until another post.

Friday night we went out to Subversion - my first outing to a fetish club on the arm of a domme rather than either of my men. An enormously different experience, and hugely enjoyable. It was a rich, varied, emotionally intense evening for a host of different reasons, and - well - you guessed it, I'll go into more detail later in the week.

I came home on Saturday to a polyamory wobble which forced a rift between Thomas and I until we talked about the problem on Sunday lunchtime. It was painful and difficult and scary, but by Sunday evening things had started to settle, and I could feel that my reaching-out to him was mutual. After the dispute was resolved we clung to each other thirstily, and the evening ended with electric, long-awaited make-up sex; sex which re-connected us not only after that fight, but re-forged another link that had been left wavering during this long summer of work and health problems and distance and stress. Every moment of physical intimacy with him is precious right now, and we clung to each other so dearly that I wasn't the only one to shed a tear at the intensity of emotion that swamped us both.

D/s play is still to come, at home, as Tom slowly regains his strength; but in London, I have my lady to share electric new experiences with, to glory in her growing power and self-confidence as my domme; I have D, with whom everything right now is comfortable and lustful and good. And I have work that taps into my kink, the deep joy that comes from creating erotic stimulation that gives joy to others.



I have been sitting on this photo since May, but today, I can finally say that it fits me right down to the ground.

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Tags: D, Fetish clubbing, funny, kink, learning curves, other pictures, Penny D, Thomas Cameron

7 comments

A teabreak tawsing

Posted at 17:16 on 17 Sep 2010 by Pandora / Blake

A few short months ago, during the start of my courtship with Penny, I bought her a present. A Scottish domme, I thought, should own a real tawse. Somehow, even the nasty three-tailed ones I hate started to seem appealing when I imagined them in the hands of my tweed-clad, bespectacled, twinkly-eyed ma'am.



I'd wanted to buy her a Lochgelly by the London Tanners, but since Ian isn't in business at present I asked around for recommendations. They led me to MC Customs. I ummed over the Lochgelly style tawses, but eventually settled on a dark brown three-tailed Glasgow tawse, medium thickness, as the shape of the handle seemed a touch more elegant.

Penny was delighted with the gift, but for one reason and another, our next few dates passed without the new toy being sampled (mostly because we were, I'll admit, easily distracted by the delights of her strap-on cock).

Last night, walking back to her house, she mentioned that she really ought to get round to using it on me. Such a beautiful implement deserves to be used - and she was reluctant to try it on anyone else before I'd had a taste. I shivered, warning her that my pain tolerance might be affected by not playing much lately, but willingly agreed. That night we stayed up too late talking and were too sleepy to play; but this morning, as settled down to work in her study, wrapped up in one of her jumpers against the first chills of autumn, I fantasised about being called back into the bedroom for a brisk thrashing, just to keep me on my toes. I idly wondered if I had more chance of earning the beating I wanted by not doing my work, or by being good and getting things done.

As it happened, I quickly settled into a productive zone. After I finished the first section of my project, I headed downstairs to make more tea. I found Penny in the garden, sawing up pallets for firewood. "Is it bad that I keep composing tweets in my head?" she grinned. "In the garden sawing firewood. Girlfriend upstairs computer programming. We're both femme, honest." I grinned with her, and we kissed outside in the crisp September air. The exercise had left her eyes bright and her hands warm. She clasped my bottom with both hot palms. "After I've finished with all this wood my hands are going to be all hard and calloused," she teased.

"Yeah, that or blistered."

I made the tea and we sat at the kitchen table. The conversation fell, as it tends to with us, to sex. After a few minutes discussing, variously, switching, pegging and talking dirty during anal, she suddenly paused, raised an eyebrow at me, and asked "Would you like to go upstairs?"

I was eager to comply. "Perhaps I should order rather than ask, but you are meant to be working," she mused, following me up the staircase. "Go on."

I was bent over the end of the bannister to give her room to move behind me, the round bulb of wood pressing into my tummy and my forearms resting along the railing. She bound my wrists to the wood with a length of hemp rope, tightening it around the cuffs of the borrowed jumper. At her instruction, I'd pulled my jeans down to my knees but left my knickers in place. She spanked me over them, so lightly at first as to tease me, perhaps remembering my nervous comment of the night before. By the time my knickers came down and firmer smacks made one buttock after the other bounce and redden, I welcomed the impact. I pushed my bottom out and moaned my appreciation.

A pause; when she returned, I felt the cool smoothness of plastic or polished wood kissing my warm cheeks. Gentle circular motions at first, sensitising the roundest points of my buttocks as if they were two bullseyes; then tiny, mocking little taps. I caught my breath as the first proper stroke landed. The second made me groan. A round wooden paddle: not brutally hard, but solid enough to make me squeak.

"I'm going to get you to count down for me now, from six," my lady told me. "And you'll say 'thankyou, ma'am' after each one. Understood?"

"Count down, or up?"

"Down," she repeated patiently. I assented, and she began.

The paddling wasn't hard enough to freak me out, although each biting smack certainly elicited a reaction. But I was so engrossed in the sensations I forgot to pay attention to the backwards count, and said three instead of four after the third, which of course earned me an extra stroke.

I got the next three right, and wriggled in pleasure as she rubbed my bottom and admired the colour. "How are your thighs feeling?" she asked ominously, raising goosepimples with a light caress.

I bit my lip, thinking of the three-tailed tawse, but reassured by the care she was taking not to push me. "Um. Vulnerable?"

She chuckled. "Good answer." And then, yes, the unmistakeable sensation of leather, three solid, square tips slipping over the curve of my bottom, feeling suddenly very helpless and aware of my bonds. She flicked it lightly against my thighs a few times, contemplatively, watching me jump. "I'm going to get you to count again now. Up, this time. To ten, please."

"Yes ma'am," I replied, my voice barely a whisper.

The first two strokes snapped against the shivering skin on the backs of my thighs. Hard enough to make me hiss through my teeth: not hard enough to panic me out of taking the rest. The third wrapped itself around my bottom in a slice of hot and cold, all the weight of it embedding itself into the impact of those three solid tips in the middle of my right cheek. I kept my count, rewarded by a soothing rub from her soft-skinned hand after each stroke. A couple of the strokes hit my thighs hard enough to make me react involuntarily, flinging my head back, bending my knees and crying out. The tawse flickered up and down, sharp and vicious on my thighs, but biting more deeply and pleasurably into the muscled padding of my arse.

By the time we reached ten I was helplessly aware the wetness in my cunt, and my whipped skin pricking and tingling and glowing in the cool air. I was breathing audibly, dishevelled, hair in my face. Penny glided into my field of vision, all chestnut curls and magnificent breasts, and enveloped me in a kiss. I wanted her to push me down over the railing and fuck me with her hand, grind the ball of her thumb against my clit, push her fingers deep inside me. Instead she untied my hands, kissed me again with no small amount of passion, then told me to pull up my jeans, go back into the study and get back to work. "And if you're very good," she promised, sparkling, "I'll give you another spanking later. Okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," I replied. Chastened, heated, horny as hell, I squirmed on the high office chair as I re-opened my project files. Now I've tasted that tawse, still vicious at the lightest end of its range, I'm hungry for more. The severity it promises is deliciously frightening. I want to be warmed up, talked through it, pushed to take as much as I can. I guess if I want to earn another good girl spanking this evening, I should get back to work...

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Tags: dominance and submission, kink, other pictures, paddle, Penny D, tawse

11 comments

A lady worth worshipping

Posted at 09:59 on 18 Aug 2010 by Pandora / Blake

Sometimes, an image just takes your breath away.



My favourite perv J sent me a link to the above pic yesterday. I've seen a fair amount of The Upper Floor's content go past, and a lot of it is a little too overtly gang-rapey for my tastes. (Not that I don't enjoy a good rape fantasy, but generally I prefer my D/s porn to be a little more psychological, and a little less in-your-face.)



Some of it, though, is pitched so perfectly for my tastes it could have been designed for me. I like that their models aren't all identikit skinny. And their subtler D/s stuff is absolutely beautiful.





Only three days until my lady Penny is here for the weekend ... somehow, I doubt she'll need much persuading to bring a corset and strap-on. But I'm not very good at waiting!

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Tags: Fantasies, other pictures, Penny D, The Upper Floor

7 comments

notes from the weekend

Posted at 01:20 on 5 Mar 2010 by Pandora / Blake

i.

The tone was set by D. on Saturday morning, with an unexpected legs-in-the-air spanking. His spankings are always unexpected, because he always springs them on me first thing in the morning when I'm barely conscious. I blame his cock, which likes mornings far more than either of us, waking me with hot, velvety nudges against my hip. Next thing I know my hand is slipping around his hardness of its own accord, and then I'm slithering under the covers to kiss him awake ... and before I know it I'm on my back, squeaking as he lifts my legs and lands several stinging smacks on my poor, sleepy bottom. Everyone hates this position, but that morning it seemed particularly acute: I was excited from suckling him, my clit slightly swollen, and every spank seemed to reverberate through my exposed sex. Any kind of punishment between my legs is an absolute limit for me - the rest of my body likes pain, but my cunt is for pleasure only - and the nearness of the smacks made me flinch. It was edgy in a delicious, confused way, my fear warring with my pleasure at the spanking until I was desperate for him to fuck me.

Which he did, very nicely.


ii.

I'd made sure that my tawses were in my toybox before Penny came round on Saturday evening. Before she arrived I spent a little time tidying, enjoying the naughty ritual of sterilising my sex toys and putting them neatly away.

The last time we'd talked in detail about play, I'd suggested that perhaps a stricter persona might work after all, but as it happened the evening held no place for roleplay of any kind. We were helplessly, entirely ourselves. We talked and talked and talked, and then we kissed and talked some more, and when we went to bed it was relaxed and playful and completely without artifice. We spent a lot of time admiring each other. When she spanked me I was inclined to giggle rather more than I should have, not because it was funny but just because the fact of her desire for me seemed so ridiculous - and so delightful - in the light of my desire for her. We tumbled on the bed, wanton, drowning each other in caresses and words.

She put me over her lap and tawsed me, trying each of my leather straps and paddles, experimenting with the noises she could elicit as I tossed my head and gasped and couldn't seem to keep from laughing. Some of them were a little long for easy aim in that position, but despite our laughter I remember it as quite a serious tawsing. The strokes were hard enough to dispel any idea that my fearlessness with her was due to lack of severity on her part. I still don't know why I'm so fearless with her, except that I feel so completely at ease with her as a lover.

My good humour was infectious. After counting a first set of strokes in English (twelve, I think? My memory is struggling with the details) she started getting me to repeat lines after her, punctuating each with a stinging stroke with the leather tawse. The theme was self-care. Let's see if I can remember: I will get enough sleep - I will eat proper meals - I will snuggle my cat - I won't let dickish clients screw me around - by this time I was laughing helplessly despite the smarting strokes, breathless, owwwwing for all I was worth every time the tawse landed, but not in the least bit cowed. "You forgot one," I quipped when she paused.

"Oh indeed, minx?" She wasn't sure whether to hit me or indulge me, but that's okay, because they're kind of the same thing.

"Yes - I will treat Penny like a queen."

At which she laughed unreservedly, rewarded me with another stroke, and told me to start again from the beginning.

Later (after more talking, more kissing and more laughing) she got her harness and the larger of her cocks out of her toybag, and I leaned back and drank in the sight of her as she dressed. I've only ever had sex this way once before, a cheap drunken fuck with someone I didn't particularly like in my second year at university. I've never really counted it. So, in a way, Penny took one of my few remaining virginities that night. We fucked vigorously, joyously. I arched my back for her like a cat in heat, to discover that my thighs were longer than hers; so we rolled over and I rode her, hard and fast, neither of us able to control our movements. I remember her hands on my breasts and waist and hips; her face as I came, tossing and - even then, I think - laughing with pleasure. When I reached down she was soaking wet, and she lifted her hips, urgently - "fuck me, somehow, any how, I don't care." I slipped two fingers underneath the harness, and she ground herself down on my hand, crying out as I fucked her as furiously as she had just fucked me.


iii.

I've finally decided on a pseudonym for the graceful goddess I went to the Venetian masquerade with a few weeks ago: Serafina, after Serafina Pekkala, although with her high cheekbones and blonde locks she looks a little more like Mrs Coulter than the Finnish witch queen.

She, Tom and I spent Sunday in the company of a small group of beloved friends, performing Renaissance drama for our own amusement. She looked stunning in a corset and petticoat, and we managed a certain amount of flirting and surreptitious necking during the play. (Afterwards she insisted I take a photo of the marks left on her back by the tight lacing: a hint of what was to come.) We'd agreed beforehand that she would stay the night, but the plan was very nearly abandoned when I, sleep-deprived and full of wine, nearly fell asleep on them before the evening was out. I decided I was a bit over-peopled, and retreated to Tom's room with a book and a mug of herbal tea. The peace and quiet was clearly what I needed: after a little while I woke up a bit, and found myself thinking how nice a spanking would be.

When they came up I popped to the bathroom, and climbed the stairs again to discover the two of them entwined. The rest followed naturally. Serafina is an inexperienced but enthusiastic switch. She and Tom hadn't played together before, and she seemed more nervous about bottoming to him than topping me - until we talked it through, and she realised that enjoying the sensations of being spanked or whipped didn't mean she had to be submissive; that it was possible to enjoy the sensations on her own terms.

The next four hours passed in a haze of lust. Tom put me over his knee, talking over my head to her about his technique, pointing out things of note, inviting her to observe the responses he elicited. The two of them purred over my bottom, remarking how pleasant it was to have such a canvas. Their spanking styles were almost opposite - Tom experienced, effortlessly heavy-handed; her hesitant at first, but increasing in confidence, favouring stinging, stiff-fingered smacks on my crease and upper thighs. They passed me back and forth, talking about me as if I wasn't there. When the time came for her to experience Tom's hand I stroked her, part sympathetic, part nervous with the strangeness of watching her be topped - and part, secretly, sharing in Tom's sadism and wanting to watch her overcome.

Fleeting images: me being bent over pillows to be whipped; Sera being taught to use the riding crop and the cane. Tom giving me rather more demonstration strokes than he strictly needed to. My confused response as she found her stride and gave me a series of smart strokes, not sure if I was happy for her achievement or sorry for myself. When Tom bent her over to taste what she had just dealt me, I suggested he build her up as slowly as possible with rapid, bouncing strokes from the thinnest switch. I could see her melting underneath them, exactly as I do.

I remarked at one point, while Sera and I were jointly adoring Tom's cock, "I always forget how pornographic threesomes are." It was an athletic tangle of limbs, flushed and sticky. I remember Tom instructing me to worship her graceful cunt, while he whipped my raised arse. She and I kneeling up face to face in the middle of the bed, kissing and caressing while Tom flicked his softest flogger around our pressed-together bodies. Me supporting her head as she succumbed to the heavier thuds of the lambskin thongs, her hair in my face, her breasts against mine. Later, Tom indulging himself with a demonstration of severity, telling Sera to watch while he gave me six with the Big Black Stick. Of course I devoured them, husky with pleasure as I gasped out my count; and she murmured in disbelief as she watched the welts blossom in time with my lust.

A final image: me, kneeling, a demonstration object again, hands behind my head while Tom cupped my throat, and clipped first one, and then another clamp onto my erect nipples. Cold stabs of pain - many months since I last felt this - shooting straight between my spread thighs. Tom's eyes burning into mine. And then two hot, wet mouths closing around cold metal, softness of warm tongues exploring the sensitive, squeezed flesh until I was dizzy with sensation. I spread my legs unconsciously wider, desperately wanting to be touched, to be fucked ... Then the clamps being removed after they'd pleasured me into oblivion; the throb of blood pouring into my injured nipples, into my cheeks, flushing my collarbones and throat.

We finally collapsed in a sweaty heap sometime after 2am, having kept Tom's housemates rudely awake for the last few hours. We were very apologetic the next morning, but even though Sera had to get up at 6.30am to do something unlikely at the other end of London, I don't think any of us had any regrets.

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Tags: D, dominance and submission, kink, Penny D, Serafina, Subbing to women, Thomas Cameron

8 comments

palmadas

Posted at 19:23 on 24 Feb 2010 by Pandora / Blake

The first email Penny sent me was entitled "dates and palms". I don't know quite where to start, she wrote, except to say that palmadas is Spanish for 'spanks', and unlike with our friend the tree who grows the palm before the date, in our case it's the date that comes before the palmadas. I was already captivated by her, but I think being asked out in the form of a kinky, witty multilingual pun would have won my heart regardless.

I only speak a few words of Spanish - I can just about order things in restaurants but I've only spent one week in the country. My other languages are similarly slim - the vestiges of GCSE French, as much Italian as I picked up during a week there with a phrasebook. I have some reading/writing ability with ancient languages but nothing conversational. So to say I have a "language kink" would be disingenuous - I've studied them a certain amount, but always been terribly lazy with them. Having said that, although talent and ability are generally sexy, I find fluency in foreign languages particularly hot.

When Penny sent that email, we had already been circling each other at group gatherings for a few weeks. (By 'circling' I mean talking passionately, flirting outrageously and then breaking off with an abashed, amused glance at each other, remarking that perhaps we should continue this line of conversation in private so as not to annoy everyone else in the room. There may or may not have been some end-of-night kisses thrown into the mix.) But we're both busy, poly people with existing partners and lots of demands on our time, so it took us a while to get round to meeting up. It was quite a big deal for me, and I didn't want to rush things. I've been lucky in finding a number of beautiful, interesting women to bed over the years, but until Penny, there was little crossover between my bisexuality and my submission.

We finally managed to get together in January this year. It was a funny sort of evening - it had already been postponed several times, and we both nearly cancelled on the day due to tiredness and too much work. Eventually I arrived some time after 9pm, and we spent several hours talking over the delicious food she'd prepared, discovering a seemingly limitless number of things we wanted to say to one another.

Eventually, slightly giddy with tiredness and wine and anticipation, we led each other upstairs and into her incredibly cold bedroom. I huddled under the satin eiderdown, chattering bright-eyed as she showed me the contents of her toybox (rope, wrist cuffs, lube, a strap-on harness and two cocks of different sizes) and I unpacked the few toys I'd brought onto the bed, including my black two-tailed tawse. We were both nervous - she has as little experience topping women as I do subbing to them - and there were a few awkward moments where I wasn't sure if anything was going to happen. In the end I can't remember who made the first move. I remember grabbing her smilingly as she stood close to the bed, wrapping my legs gently around her hips and leaning upwards for a kiss, but I'm not sure if that came first or later.

My nerves made me giggly and over-talkative as she instructed me to lie on my front, and started to smack my upturned bottom. My hands and feet were frozen - I tucked them under the eiderdown and concentrated on my quickly-warming bottom. Her hands were smallish and soft, and she spanked me with both of them, experimenting and stroking and telling me all the while how beautiful I was. (I wanted to respond in kind, but just then didn't quite seem the time.) Later she stood me against the wall, wearing only my hold-up stockings, back arched and palms pressed flat against the wall above my head. She had my tawse in her hand, which she flicked again and again against the strip of thigh above my stocking-tops. The sensations were wicked, teasing, unbearably erotic. I wanted her to whip me harder and longer and faster; and I wanted her to turn me around and press me to the wall with a violent kiss, my lips smearing against hers; and I wanted her mouth at my cunt, or mine at hers, I didn't care.

We made love until the small hours of the morning, and then we sat up and talked some more, tucked under the pink satin eiderdown, drinking homemade sloe gin like lesbians in a 1930s film. When we made our giggling way downstairs sometime after 2am to refill our glasses she kissed me, halfway down the stairs, with such intensity that we tangled there for long minutes - until she ordered me to turn over and spanked me, kneeling there on the stairs, her thigh pinning mine to the step and the smacks echoing in the empty house.

I barely snatched a few hours sleep before a laborious commute to work the next day in the freshly frozen snow. It was an unreal, utterly delicious evening, and I very much hoped it wouldn't be our last.

We kept in touch online, neither of us finding the time to write as much as we would like, and a few weeks later I saw her one night at the pub. She walked me home, and, somewhat tipsily, I said what I'd been meaning to say by email: how much I'd enjoyed our play, how tantalising it had been; asking nervously if she would be interested in playing harder. "Longer, yes," she answered, "but I'm not sure I can hit you much harder." Privately, I doubted this, but I didn't want to pressure her - this negotiation was still so new and precious, and neither of us had done anything quite like this before. I didn't want to scare her off by insisting on extreme severity, but I could feel my appetite for being hurt by her intensifying every time we spoke, and I wondered if it would be easily satisfied.

Our negotiation continued by email. I had already expressed wariness at her fantasies which centred around play-punishments; punishment, for me, is either real (and embedded in a secure, trusting power exchange where I have explicity given a person permission to hold me to account in certain areas of my life) or better suited to acting or roleplay. When she asked whether a "fearsome Wodehousian aunt" would make an appealing Domme persona, I replied:

It's a very hot fantasy (c.f. Matrons, Cooks, tweed-clad butch Edwardian chaffeuses [I absolutely adored Wendy Albiston as Baines in the BBC Turn of the Screw) but I think between us that would work best if we were acting/roleplaying? Your presence is very cheering, and if we're being ourselves I think I'd prefer not to have to pretend you were horrible. ;)

When I daydream about you you tend to be inhabiting a governess/lover persona ... doing horrible things to me, pushing my limits, but all with a purring, encouraging sort of attitude - not quite nurturing, but almost. Helping me do my best to please you at the same time as challenging me to endure more, because you want to watch me struggle to be brave. I find the combination of physical nastiness with emotional niceness easier out of character, but I like roleplay BECAUSE it creates a safe space with which to explore the emotionally nasty scenes which are so very hot.

The next time we met up she took me at my word. It was me that suggested she should take me upstairs, but once we were in my small bedroom, surrounded by the Indian fabrics and glowing fairylights adorning the walls, she took quiet control, instructing me to remove my top and kneel for her. She stood on the bed in front of me, seeming impossibly tall and wide-hipped, her eyes drinking me in. I felt myself blushing as I surrendered to her gaze.

When she spanked me, facedown again on the bed, I responded with pure, uncomplicated arousal. Even the sharpest strokes failed to impact on the serenity and certainty of my enjoyment. Part of me wondered what I was doing wrong - where was the edge, the pain, the fear that I am so used to overcoming? - but most of me basked in the delicious sensations of palm kissing flesh. When she straddled my waist, facing my feet, the heavy softness of her thighs pinning me to the bed and the heat radiating from her cunt made my head spin as much as the rapid, double-handed tattoo she beat on my arse.

She tried out my Mason & Pearson - surely there is no implement more erotic in the hands of an elegant woman - and asked after my black tawse, which I regretfully told her must still be in Tom's toybag after our outing to Subversion. In its stead I felt the cool press of my smooth wooden ruler. "Now, minx," she murmured, "I'm going to give you ten, and you're to count them for me. In -" and here she named a language I studied at university, but which has rusted almost beyond repair. I may have yelped with surprise.

"Oh! Er - I really don't think I can do that - I'm sorry, ma'am..." I could feel my cheeks flushing with scholarly embarrassment, aware of her skill with languages and remembering that first email, punning so fluently in Spanish. At the same time, part of my mind flashed back to the hand-cropping last year which so successfully taught me 1-6 in German ...

"Fine." I could sense her amusement. "In French, then." And the first stroke landed.

I gabbled my way through the ten strokes. I can barely remember the pain: the burning shame I felt has entirely overlaid it in my memory. I was blushingly conscious of my poor accent, the awkwardness of my mercis (although she'd explicitly vetoed Madame). My French has gone unused for years, and in the heat of the moment I hesitated more than I should; after huit I got completely stuck, both sets of cheeks flaming and mind appallingly blank. She supplied the next two for me, reinforcing each word with a stinging smack of the ruler, and then made me keep going to douze, which I'm afraid I couldn't remember either. After each one I felt a rush of embarrassed recognition - oh god yes of course - but when put on the spot my memory failed me. It was awful and lovely and deliciously intense.

Later she realised a long-held fantasy of mine by turning me over her knee as she sat up against the wall (my flat has limited OTK options due to lack of suitable chairs, or a bed which is high enough off the floor). Inbetween smacks she smoothed and stroked my bottom and thighs with her soft palms. I was lip-bitingly aware of her warm, naked skin pressing against me, her thighs under my tummy and her ample bosom smooshed deliciously against my back. When she started to spank me with my oval, light wooden paddle I thought I might die of pleasure. I whimpered and moaned, helpless with lust, and as she increased the pace I was aware that rather than shying away from the harder strokes, I was relaxing more deeply into the sensations. My body was feeding on the pain, devouring it. I felt like she could continue paddling me for ever and I could never get enough.

Afterwards, drinking pear cider and laughingly showing her some of my spanking porn collection, she confessed that she'd almost been on autopilot during that spanking. "Does that sound bad? I mean that I was so absorbed in it, the repetition was somehow lulling..." I knew what she meant. It had felt lovely, but there's an emotional edge I'm looking for in CP scenes, a narrative curve which had been there during the embarrassing counting to ten exercise, but less so when it was just spanking for spanking's sake.

I found myself thinking about this a lot after she left the next day. I had asked her to be encouraging, and while she was spanking me she had murmured something like "be brave for me, I know you can take this" - but it had felt slightly odd to hear. Not that the spanking hadn't been firm - I don't think I've ever been spanked so thoroughly with that paddle - but because, for some reason, I didn't need encouragement. I wondered if by asking her to be nurturing I had been going in the wrong direction. She had previously suggested finding reasons to punish me, being terribly strict or shouty, and I had demurred. But perhaps those modes would give me the edge I was looking for?

This whole thought process was complicated by the nagging suspicion that I shouldn't be the one deciding such things - negotiation is all very well and at a purely practical level I do have more experience, but I'm beginning to discover that most of my experience submitting to men, and playing on camera, is irrelevant to the new and exciting world she and I are exploring together. I can't tell how I'm going to react to her, so her input is at least as valuable as mine, and I'm starting to reconsider several of the things I warned her off initially. Sure, they may not have worked well for me in the past, but I'm discovering that playing with Penny works by no rules I'm familiar with; my prior preferences and boundaries don't necessarily apply.

The mini-scene with the French was utterly exhilirating. Using CP as a learning method has always appealed to me - it was a feature of my first relationship with Tom as an undergraduate, and he and I fantasised about me playing a La Maupin sort of role, with him teaching me French and fencing and how to cheat at cards. I love the student/apprentice model of submission, I love learning new things, and CP works astonishingly well for me as a learning tool. (I think I also have a "being tested on things while being punished" kink, as exemplified by this incredibly hot school scene.)

I expressed it to her in email as follows: Humiliation isn't normally my thing, but humility is lovely. I think being tested on things I should bloody well know is the latter, whereas being tested on things (or criticised for) things I couldn't possibly be expected to know is the former. While I love languages, I'm well aware how lazy a student of them I've been; criticism feels decidedly deserved. Her superior skill in languages is extremely hot, and when she puns or calls me pet names in Spanish or Gaelic I feel simultaneously flattered, delighted, and squirmily humbled by not being able to respond in kind.

As we were settling down to sleep in the early hours of last Sunday morning, she rolled over and sleepily informed me, "by the way - the French for six is six. You said seis, which is Spanish."

"Oh," I replied. And with that she curled up again, leaving me blushing anew in the dark.

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Tags: dominance and submission, Fantasies, kink, learning curves, meta-analysis, otk spanking, Penny D, Subbing to women

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