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Punishment, humiliation and bondage

Posted at 21:17 on 19 Jan 2011 by Pandora / Blake

Photo of Ariel Anderssen courtesy of Restrained Elegance

Actually, when D suggested we get the spankings over and done with at the end of my last entry, there were two in the offing. My punishment for not checking in as per our agreement a couple of days earlier; and a fun spanking he owed me to make up for being mean.

Put like that, it sounds kind of contradictory. But I suspect you'll understand.

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Tags: bath brush, bondage, breast slapping, D, dominance and submission, hand spanking, kink, kinky merit badges, Real life punishment, rough sex

1 comment

Temperance

Posted at 15:21 on 17 Jan 2011 by Pandora / Blake



Before Christmas I asked D if he'd do something for me. I'd become aware, lately, that I'd been drinking more than I was comfortable with, and I wanted help keeping track of it. With some nervousness, I hinted that the sort of help I wanted was the D/s type. D's never been particularly comfortable with formally structured protocols, and prefers a level of informality and spontaneity to both play and punishment. 'Serious' rather than playful punishments have been rare between us, and mostly on a one-off basis - although I've learned over the years that this doesn't mean our D/s dynamic is any less real.

So I wasn't sure how he'd react to the idea of a more structured, explicitly negotiated system to help me watch my drinking. I told him the truth - that I'd taken the proposal to Tom, first, but although he'd agreed, he never ended up acting on it. Tom's health has been so poor lately, and his stress levels so high, that it hadn't seemed fair for me to put extra pressure and responsibility on him. So I checked that Tom didn't mind, and approached D instead.

To my surprise, D seemed amenable. Unlike Tom and me he almost never drinks; perhaps that was why he felt comfortable keeping tabs on this area of my life. He'd feel hypocritical, he said later, holding me to standards he wasn't keeping himself. (In my defence, I'm not a total pisshead - four pints of cider is an unusually heavy night's drinking for me - but I do find it all too easy to have one or two at the end of a long day, and it adds up. When I realised I couldn't remember the last day I'd abstained completely, I decided it was time to change my habits.)

After a vague "yes" but no further discussion, I knew better than to push, and left the ball in D's court. Sooner than I expected, however, I received a startlingly stern email from him describing the process and principles he wanted me to follow, and asking me to let him know the guidelines I wanted to be kept to. I read that email several times: it was a delicious mix of negotiation and dominance. The basic rules were up to me - although he was prepared to let me know if he thought my suggestions were too slack. But once agreed, he would keep me to them; and it was him that insisted that I send him an email every morning reporting what I'd drunk the night before. If you don't report a drinking level for a given day, without a good reason, then I'll assume you deserve a punishment for that day regardless of surrounding drinking levels. I shivered with delight at the realisation that he was taking this seriously.

We discussed punishments. A designated implement seemed sensible, given the associations it was likely to accumulate. With some trepidation I proposed the horrible little bath brush which, conveniently, has been barely used since I bought it. We were both being very honest with each other - him about his lack of booze knowledge, and me about my own weaknesses. The whole thing felt more consultative than authoritative, but I felt very secure knowing that, unlike me, he wasn't going to cut me any more slack than I deserved. I was confident that the structure we'd developed was sensible and sustainable, holding me to the spirit (as it were!) rather than the letter of the law, and I trusted D to make fair judgments.

As I sent him my daily emails (a hard habit to get into), it became clear that I was trying to lean too heavily on my 'rules', whereas he was more interested in general patterns and my perceptions. At first it felt like I was in a constant state of self-denial - possibly the restrictions increased the temptation - and moderation felt surprisingly difficult. Nonetheless, as I'd hoped, the act of recording affected my decisions, and the prospect of disappointing my Dom proved far better motivation than my vague guidelines in themselves.

After about a week, I discovered that he was collating the emails in a spreadsheet. A categorised, colour-coded spreadsheet. I was amused, flattered, aroused - but also shiveringly nervous at the precise record-keeping this implied. I've had punishment books before - but this was my first punishment spreadsheet!

I got to see it in person on Friday afternoon. Green text marked the booze-free days; red the heavier ones. A blazing scarlet background denoted the day I forgot to check in. We argued about that, a bit. The thing is that I was fairly sure I'd not drunk anything that day, but I couldn't prove it until I got back home. I was perfectly happy to be punished for not sending the email, but it seemed unfair and unproductive to treat the missed email as if I'd had a piss-up. The two crimes were clearly separate! Eventually he agreed - by which point of course I felt anxious and guilty about having got my way.

Once the spreadsheet was up to date, D cheerily suggested that we get the punishment over with. With alarm, I suddenly realised how close I was to tears. A combination of disappointment for having missed a report, anxiety about the perceived unfairness and guilt for arguing with him. As we hugged he noticed my trembling, and decided that spankings would happen after dinner. I was both relieved and disappointed. I appreciated the chance to calm down enough that I had a chance of taking my punishment with some dignity, but no-one likes to wait.

(To be continued...)

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Tags: Adele Haze, D, dominance and submission, Jimmy Holloway, other pictures, Real life punishment

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Power exchange, discipline and feedback loops

Posted at 16:58 on 15 Oct 2010 by Pandora / Blake

I really enjoyed this discussion on the Punishment Book earlier this week, in which Iris and Chris discussed what tops get out of a DD dynamic. It covered a number of fascinating points and I can recommend reading the whole post, but here are the bits that particularly interested me:

Iris: I'm a bit wary of setting up the punishment dynamic with [M] sometimes because I don't want to drain him too much. With you I get the sense that it feeds you in some way, perhaps in the same way it feeds me: not an entirely pleasant way, but a satisfying way.

Chris: Id be lying if I didnt say a part of me was a bit excited by the fact that you are in trouble. I have a hard time admitting that ... maybe that's why I've always been so adamant about not "enjoying" punishments. But, there is a part of me, like you say, which does feed off of that dynamic. I think we're both on the same page there. We don't like the actual event but we both like the situation and what it represents. For me, as Ive said before, it's largely the trust. We share something very close and special in that punishment context, and I feel very close and focused on you before, during and after a punishment.

Iris: So can I be so bold as to ask what you do get out of TTWD? For me it creates stability and security, it re-equilibrates me when Im off kilter, and mostly, it makes me feel deeply loved. But what about you?

Chris: Good and tough question. Obviously, there are different things I get out of it in different settings and with different people, so I'll limit it to the punishment aspect with you. I think the biggest thing I get out of it is knowing that you trust me enough to let me punish you when you need it. I know you dont enjoy the spanking and hairbrushing itself, and the fact that you do trust me to do it anyway is something I cherish. It does definitely create a closeness, intimacy and yes, love that doesnt necessarily manifest in other ways. Beyond that, even during a punishment I enjoy the physical aspects of spanking and your reactions. Those reactions are very different from a fun spanking, but they feed the punishment fantasy as well without being "fake".

Lots of food for thought! I'm always impressed by how thoughtful and emotionally articulate so many kinksters are about their sexuality. I know it's not something perverts have a monopoly on, but I think power exchange tends to stimulate this sort of analysis and discussion in a way that I find really affirming.

I added a few thoughts in a comment:

I suspect this is one of those questions that's really hard to answer because for most people, it's all one great big feedy feedback loop. The bottom gets certain things out of it (Iris' explanation is spot on - stability, security, feeling loved and looked after, catharsis, re-achieving equilibrium and the feeling of "starting again") and, because the top cares about the bottom, those are all things the top gets out of it as well - the joy of knowing they are having this effect.

Plus, there's the sexual stimulation of watching yourself enact a scenario you find hot - even if that's happening in another room of your head, and the self in your body is feeling remorse and sorrow and upset. This is shared by both of you, and it loops because you're each aware, even as you're immersed in this genuinely emotionally distressing experience, that the other finds the idea of this sort of thing hot, and perhaps that when they look back on it the memory will carry some sexual excitement.

Then there's what the top gets out of it - I love Chris's explanation here. Love, care, pleasure in the bottom's trust, pleasure at being able to help them - and perhaps pleasure in the experience of being granted this authority or power over them, as well as in the trust that implies. The bottom gets to enjoy the fact that their top is enjoying all these things, as well as enjoying his or her own experience.

I think this is one of the reasons many of us find power exchange play more electric and stimulating than sex in which each parter's experience is emotionally equivalent. It creates this delightful moebius strip of emotional response where the difference and imbalance in each person's response feeds back into the other's, and you both get to share in each other's experience.
Following on from the concept of feedback loops, I found myself nodding at Iris' initial statements about not wanting to be a burden on her partner M. I can very much identify with not wanting to impose activities on a top which they don't get anything out of. This is a consideration in all my relationships and liaisons. At the most casual level, I'm reluctant to engage in spanking play with someone who is only doing it for my sake. If my top doesn't get that fundamental jolt of excitement which all spankos will recognise, then even if they enjoy giving me pleasure, my own pleasure isn't enough for me to really relax and enjoy the experience. I need to trust that this is something my partner wants to do for their own sake as well as mine.

Domestic discipline is even more complicated than that because of the amount of commitment it represents. I don't mean the longevity of a relationship, I mean the time investment that is involved in conducting a discipline relationship responsibly. Rules and sanctions need to be negotiated consensually, and they need to be followed up consistently. If a bottom lets their top down by breaking a rule, I think the top lets them down even more by responding inconsistently. The punishment should be as negotiated, and delivered relatively promptly. As a bottom, there are few things worse than breaking a rule and then not knowing whether you're in trouble or not - or finding out that the top isn't in the mood, or is too busy, to respond, and feeling neglected as a result.

This is why my DD relationship with Tom is still on hold. He knows his own limits. He knows that in his current state of health he couldn't make a commitment to respond promptly and appropriately to my breaking any agreement we might make; as such, he doesn't want to enter one until he can. He feeds off the energy and trust of a DD power exchange, just as I do, but what's worth adding here is that neither of us only feed off that energy. We also put energy into it. Having done so, we both get more out than we started with, but in order for the power exchange to work we both need to have some energy (or power) to invest into it in the first place.

Like the feedback loop arising from a discipline relationship, I think this principle is true of normal sex as well, particularly with new partners - I get energy out of it, but I need a certain amount of energy to start with for it to be workable. But in both cases, I think the imbalance of power in a Dom/sub relationship enhances the phenomenon. Both the bandwidth of the feedback loop, and the amount of energy each partner needs to put in to get things going, are increased by the different roles, responsibilities and risks involved in power exchange.

What do you think? Does this tally with your experience?

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Tags: dominance and submission, meta-analysis, Real life punishment

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unbelievable answers

Posted at 21:40 on 7 Dec 2009 by Pandora / Blake

Thanks to everyone who posted answers to my The Unbelievable Truth game. The most popular answers were 1 (spanked in a church) and 3 (spanking games with my brother), followed by 2 (timed hairbrush spanking) and 5 (discipline during my degree). The only option which no-one picked was 4.

Well, it is with a certain amount of smug glee that I announce that the only truthful statement in that list was, in fact, number 4! I guess sometimes the truth really is unbelievable :)

No-one's going to believe me if I don't provide details, though, so here's the breakdown:

1. The most outrageous place I've ever been spanked was in a church as a teenager - I was dating a vicar's son at the time.

False. I've had sex in a church a couple of times, in various different circumstances, but I've never been spanked in one.

2. I was once given a timed, rapid punishment spanking consisting of one spank per second for two minutes with a wooden hairbrush.

False. This scenario has always been a fantasy of mine, but I've never quite dared to fulfil it. Tom has given me timed hairbrush spankings as real punishments in the past, but they were only timed in duration, not in pace. I suspect they averaged rather less than one spank per second.

3. My brother and I played spanking games a couple of times when we were little kids. I always wondered whether he felt the same way about it as I did.

False. The closest my brother and I got to this kind of thing were half-serious playfights or indoor wrestling bouts, which tended to escalate from tickling matches or minor bickering until I was about 12. It was fun to really physically let rip once in a while, and while we had no compunctions about hurting each other, it was in that safe sibling way where you trust them not to go too far. It always felt like a very healthy way of relieving tension, but there was nothing sexual about it.

4. The first time I met Tom was on my first ever nude shoot, when I was just turned 19, and the first part of me he saw was my bottom - before we were even introduced.

TRUE!

Okay, here's the full story:

I was nineteen, and it was the end of the summer after my first year at uni. Since leaving home I'd been trying to pretend I was vanilla (as I think a lot of us did at that age). I'd quit self-harming, a habit that had dogged my teens, and I was convinced that my kinky fantasies were part of the same urge. I was determined to resist them, and for my first year at uni I had a lovely, charming, totally vanilla boyfriend with whom I had frequent, vigorous sex - and tried to ignore the darker fantasies and desires that kept threatening to surface. I'd been a goth/geek/gamer all through my teens, and when I went to uni I was determined to start afresh, re-invent myself as "normal" and learn to fit in. I managed it pretty well, but I wasn't being true to myself, and I wasn't happy.

I spent the next summer living with my parents and working in a crappy temp job. I was depressed and had no remaining friends in my home town. My boyfriend lived at the other end of the country. I started seeking out interesting people online - goths, geeks, roleplayers, actors, artists, cross-dressers - and as I made new friends I began to feel more like myself. It inspired me to get back in touch with an old friend who had moved to London and got involved in the London goth scene.

"Come down for the weekend!" she said. "It'd be good to see you. Be warned, though, there'll be a couple of girls having a naked photoshoot on the Saturday. We can stay out of their way, I just didn't want you to be too freaked out."

A naked photoshoot! All the messy hedonism of my sixth form years rushed back to me. London seemed like another planet. I arranged to visit, feeling freer than I had in months.

The weekend was a whirl of parties and new experiences. My friend, C, lived in a huge goth houseshare where people were always coming and going. The girls doing the photoshoot were lovely, a gorgeous couple who wanted some nice pics of themselves and had invited a photographer friend to help them out. C and I ended up invited to join them. Giggling, we tried on different outfits, played with makeup, drank wine. I'd never posed for a camera before and I had an amazing time. C and I played with some kinky poses; me blindfolded, her hand wrapping around my throat. I was tipsy, giddy, exhilarated by the newness of it all.

As it started to get dark some of her housemates came up to the attic where we were shooting, checked out what was going on and got introduced to us. I was in the walk-in wardrobe with my back to the door when I heard a group of people come upstairs, voices as the others greeted them. I was struggling with a suspender belt - I'd managed to attach the front two clips, but the rear two were defeating me. I yelled to C in the next room - "Can someone come and help me with my suspenders, please?"

Moments later I felt hands taking the clips from me and guiding them into place. "There you go," said a male voice. I looked round, half-turning to see who had helped me. A dark-haired man with amazing blue eyes and a trim goatee beard was kneeling behind me, his face only inches from my scantily-clad bottom. "Hi," he said, "My name's Tom. I live here."

"Um - nice to meet you. And thanks!" I stammered, and introduced myself in return.

It was, as they say, the first day of the rest of my life. Of course it didn't go smoothly from there - I still had the vanilla boyfriend, I was nineteen and very confused about what I wanted - but hey, we seem to have worked it out okay in the end :)

5. During my degree D. and I had a deal which resulted in me getting spanked either way. If I did my work on time, I got to choose the implement and scene: if I didn't, he did.

False. Tom and D. both gave discipline spankings during my degree, and Tom and I had a deal for a while where I told him my weekly targets and he punished me if I failed to meet them, but we didn't keep it up long - real life got in the way. D. and I have made this sort of mutually-beneficial bargain in other circumstances, though!

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Tags: D, Fantasies, funny, learning curves, making a scene, Real life punishment, Thomas Cameron

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mirror image

Posted at 12:15 on 17 Jul 2009 by Pandora / Blake

I just about met my deadline on Wednesday, and emailled it to D. (we're working together on this project) moments before racing out of the house. I paused just long enough to get his message asking me to bring my lacy dress and some high heels. The dress was bought at BoundCon; I don't have a picture of me wearing it yet, but will probably be taking it to my next shoot with Lady Sonia at the end of July, so I'll be able to show you after that. It's more hole than dress: black crocheted lace, with a tiny skirt barely skimming decency at the front and showing more of my bottom than it covers. The first time I tried it on to show D. I was instantly pounced and molested, which I thought was pretty good going.

I arrived at his; we talked about work a bit (he was happy with what I'd done; I'd had to race to finish it after spending the morning on more frivolous things) and then had dinner with his housemate. By the time we went to bed I'd drunk quite a lot of wine. I borrowed his camera to take the Vilena-style photos, and he grinned at me from the doorway, making helpful suggestions as I wiggled and occasionally fell flat on my face. "Arch your back more! Bring your knees as close to your boobs as possible! Lift your face higher! Now lift your arse higher!" (YES YES I AM IN FACT TRYING. Cheers for that useful advice, sir.)

So then I'm naked on his bed, a bit worn out and giggling after my exertions, and while I was innocently flopped on my front he proceeded to kneel on the back of my legs, reaching over the side of the bed and bringing out his biggest cane. It's long and thick and only bamboo, not particularly dense or heavy, but he enjoys how melodramatic it looks.

"Is this because I didn't do your work this morning?" I asked, flushing.

"Yes. That's exactly what it's about." I felt the tip of the cane trail lightly up the backs of my thighs, skimming the curve of my bottom. I swallowed, enjoying his dominance, and whimpered plaintively. My recalcitrance didn't impress him. He paused, lifting the cane away. "Of course, I could always not beat you?"

"I don't mind you beating me," I whispered hastily, "as long as you're not actually cross with me."

More feather-soft caress of bamboo. He followed it with his body, his hips pressing gently against me and his lips touching the back of my neck. "I'm not cross with you," he murmured, "but I am going to beat you. Because I like watching you wriggle. And because you're a naughty wench."

He spanked me first, harder than he normally does. He hadn't risen to my play-complaints, so I didn't indulge in them: instead, I responded with fervent enjoyment. I'd been thinking about this scene all day. I'd hoped for it, hinted at it. I hadn't been sure if he'd initiate it, and now he had I didn't want to put him off by pretending I wasn't into it. There's a time and place for resistance play, but as far as he was concerned, this clearly wasn't it.

By the time he started caning me the atmosphere was intensely sensual: strange for a punishment caning, especially one I knew I deserved. Usually punishments for real misdemeanours aren't fun for me at all. But my procrastination had been unprofessional - I knew that - and he hadn't had a go at me about it when I admitted I hadn't started work yet, so I'd guilted myself about it instead. But I'd also worked extra hard to make up, finished the job, and produced something he was happy with, so no harm was done. This was a deserved punishment, one I'd anticipated and needed, but there was no need to "teach me a lesson" - the lesson had already been learned. Partly it was just an excuse; partly it was cleansing my remaining guilt; and partly it was straightforwardly, without viciousness, reinforcing my existing awareness that I really shouldn't be doing that sort of thing until I've finished my other work.

Anyway, it was delicious, not brutally hard but stinging and satisfying, with a few strokes landing right on my crease. I hung onto the headbars of his bed, trying to keep quiet for the sake of his housemates, hissing through my teeth and flinging my head back as the harder strokes broke through my self-control.

When he stopped I knelt up, and my eyes widened at the iron hardness of his erection. For someone who claims not to be a spanko, he'd certainly enjoyed that.

"Put your pretty things on," he told me, smiling. I couldn't take my eyes off his cock. I leant forward to give it a quick kiss on my way off the bed, but he pushed my face away with his hand, still grinning. "Not until you're dressed, wench. We get distractedly too easily. Scoot."

I grinned back, and obediently tied the skimpy lace around my neck and hips. I'd forgotten to bring heels, but by that point he was too turned on to bother punishing me again, and I can't say I minded.

Of course, what better position to fuck me in than facing the mirror, head up and arse in the air? I watched my own face as he entered me, cheeks flushed and pupils the size of the moon; I watched his pecs flexing as he moved, his lean shoulders and sharp cheekbones; I watched looking at my body in the mirror, looking at my face, looking down at his cock sliding into me. I looked right back at him until I couldn't keep my eyes open or my head up any more, and then I buried my face in the mattress and cried out, no longer thinking or caring about what I looked like.

Perfect for more than just spanking, indeed.

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Tags: D, dominance and submission, kink, Real life punishment

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The taxman cometh

Posted at 17:27 on 24 Jan 2009 by Pandora / Blake

I left my accounts far too late this year. They've been on my to do list for a while, but then it was Christmas and New Year and I've been away a lot in January, and suddenly my accountant was emailling me on Friday gently prompting me that she needed them by Monday if she was going to make the deadline.

I love having an accountant. It means I don't have to fret about whether I've claimed something I shouldn't have as expenses, or got something wrong. My tax return becomes someone else's responsibility, and it's worth every penny.

Of course, getting the info to my accountant in time still is my responsibility. Luckily, even then I have an option of making it someone else's problem.

I gave it to Tom.

Not in a "here, you do it!" way, obviously. No, I spoke to him on Thursday night and confessed that I needed to get all the work done on Friday and that my motivation level was low. Could he maybe provide some sort of incentive?

But of course. First, he said, I had to be up and at my desk by 9am, awake and showered and ready to work. He'd call at five past and check in on me; I would be due twelve cane strokes, in the first instance, if I didn't manage that.

And what do you know? I did. I then spent all morning sorting out my paperwork, and was nearly ready to start typing everything up when he checked in on me in the afternoon. By the time I stopped at midnight I'd done all the sums and just needed to compile my receipts, and I spoke to him before I went to bed. I finished them today, and would almost certainly would have spent the last two days procrastinating if I hadn't had my Dom taking an interest. I don't think I disappointed him.

He stopped in on his way to work last night to give me a hug and see how I was getting on. While he was here I remembered something.

"Close your eyes," I grinned, "and hold out your hands." (Somehow this saying has much less force when said by a sub to her Dom, but I grew up with it.)

This is what I put in his hands:



I picked it up from the pharmacy the other day. It's smaller and lighter than most of the bathbrushes I've seen, but there's a heck of a lot of sting there. As I quickly learned. Well, he wasn't going to pass up an opportunity like that, was he? It stings a LOT, particularly when used fast. I wasn't even pink afterwards, which was hard to believe given how much I'd yelped and wriggled around.

But the afterglow was just the same when I sat back down at my desk. It hadn't been a punishment. More a welcome distraction. And a reconnection, grounding me in my body, refreshing my state of mind and giving me a renewed energy to tackle the boring spreadsheets.

Tom left me with the promise that he'd call on me again on his way to work the next morning, and if I didn't get up promptly, he'd use the bathbrush again.

Needless to say, I was at my desk on time this morning. And my accounts are now done! I knew that brush was a good investment. :)

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Tags: bath brush, dominance and submission, kink, other pictures, Real life punishment

5 comments

unexpected consequences

Posted at 10:23 on 13 Dec 2008 by Pandora / Blake

D's style of dominance is inherently intuitive and unstructured. He likes being unpredictable, to keep me guessing.

Despite keeping our D/s relationship deliberately unstructured, in certain other ways he's very methodical. His housekeeping, for example, while not always tidy, is painstakingly precise. Everything needs to be in exactly the right place. We don't have many "rules", but the ones we do have all relate to how I should behave in his flat. Putting the toilet seat down, that kind of thing.

We were out last weekend and chatting about random stuff when he suddenly remembered something. "By the way, I have something to tell you," he said. "When you left my house this morning you not only left all the doors open, so the heat in the lounge and the bedroom escaped and wasted loads of energy, you also left lights on in both rooms all day."

I was confused, and immediately became defensive. "I don't remember going into the lounge this morning," I argued. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. You left the toilet door and the lounge door open. And the lights on. You did remember to double lock the front door behind you, though."

"I was going to say!" I hesitated, realising that it was silly to argue with him ... and, from the expression on his face, that he wasn't just mentioning this to be critical. "Does ... this mean I'm in trouble?"

"Yes." He gave me a Look, and refused to say anything else about it.

I hate waiting.



We spent the night together at my place, but I didn't get the threatened punishment that evening. In fact we were both stressed out and tired that weekend, and the next day we ended up bickering. I made a bratty comment about the fact he hadn't made good on his threat. "You shouldn't say you're going to do things and then not do them."

"I never said when I was going to do anything," he retorted. "You shouldn't leap to assumptions."

I shut up. If he wants to make me wait, there's nothing I can do about it.



I next saw him a few days later. I'd had a really hectic day and turned up at his flat very late, intending to just curl up to sleep. We were going to bed, and I realised I'd forgotten to fetch a glass of water. I'm a light sleeper and like to sip water during the night. When I came back from the kitchen D was sitting up in bed, looking at me with an unreadable expression on his face.

"What?" I asked, feeling self-conscious.

"You left the door open. Again. There is a heater on in this room. The warm is in here, you shouldn't let it out."

"Oops," I said guiltily as I got into bed, "sorry."

"Uh huh." He shot me a sideways glance, half exasperated and half amused, and reached over the side of the bed to the toybox stored underneath. "Roll over."

I turned onto my front obediently, sneaking a peek. He was holding the wooden paddle. My heart was racing.

I was under the duvet; he reached down and peeled it up from the foot end, exposing my legs but folding it over my waist so it covered my upper body. Then he fetched a blanket and draped it over my legs. I was grateful for the warmth - it was a freezing night - but the coverings also served to make my exposed bottom feel more vulnerable. I felt objectified, reduced to just two unmarked globes awaiting the crisp sting of the paddle. I buried my face in the pillows.

"This is for leaving the door open just now," D said, and delivered a swift volley of smacks to my cold cheeks. No warm up, just six brisk whacks in quick succession. I cried out and twisted my hips. After the sixth stroke he paused and stroked my stinging bottom. It felt covered in goosepimples.

"And this is for leaving the doors open the other day," D continued, applying the paddle again. Six more strokes, without a pause. I grabbed at the duvet and wailed.

He put the paddle down, pushed the duvet aside and drew me into his arms. A smile played on his lips. "I can't work out what you deserve for leaving two lights on all day," he said, "so maybe you should try and placate me before I decide..."

I thought that sounded like a much better idea than more punishment, and pleasured him with all the enthusiasm a freshly spanked bottom can muster. I love belonging to someone who never ceases to surprise me. :)

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Tags: D, dominance and submission, kink, Photos, Real life punishment

9 comments

Spanked by her editor

Posted at 11:09 on 4 Aug 2008 by Pandora / Blake

Niki Flynn has uploaded a free spanking clip to her blog, in which her "editor" (played by Ludwig of Rohrstockpalast) spanks her for not working hard enough to promote her book, Dances with Werewolves. The punishment seems to have focussed her mind: she not only edited a video of the spanking into a neat little promotional clip, but she's also distributing it for free online.



Niki's been nominated for the prestigious Writer of the Year title at the Erotic Awards. Help her win the award and boost her sales figures by linking the clip - and buying the book, if you haven't already.

I've been very lax in not writing a review of Niki's book here already, so I'll take a moment to remedy that now. Dances with Werewolves starts out as a familiar, gossipy introduction to the spanking industry, full of recognisable figures and mischievous commentary. The narrative soon deepens, however, into an investigation of how Niki came to be aware of her kink and how it affected her growing up. Like many kinky people, Niki's desires manifested young, and like many of us she went through a phase of fearing that they were harmful and unhealthy, and despairing of ever having a "normal" sexuality. Her discussion of fantasy, consent, fear and discipline is sensitive and thought-provoking. Although she and I seem to be into similar things on the surface, the underlying motivations between mine and Niki's kinks are very different, and it was fascinating to read another perspective. At the same time as celebrating the broad range of human sexuality, Niki's story has enough common ground with my own for me to identify strongly her as she gradually explored her desires and her deepest self.

At this point the book deviates from my - and most people's - experience, as Niki decides to apply for a part in a Lupus film, having never done professional spanking work before in her life. This brave leap takes her further up and further in to a compelling world of political, psychological, painful films that allow her to come face to face with the extremes of human experience. Her conscientiousness and self-awareness during her voyage of discovery are to be admired as much as her courage. Niki's a fantastic storyteller with a brilliantly dark sense of humour. Her honest appraisal of her desires and experiences make for compelling reading.

The book is a celebration of kink, a wry look at an industry that is both sublime and ridiculous, and a powerful story about fear, desire, and knowing oneself. If there are any films mentioned in the book that you haven't seen, you will come away wanting to watch them. And quite right too. Niki's influence on the world of spanking films has been positive and lasting. Her imagination, spirit and bravery has left a legacy of films that are, like this book, raw, scary, honest, challenging, intelligent and funny. And, of course, incredibly hot.

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Tags: Lupus Spanking, making a scene, Niki Flynn, otk spanking, Performers and producers, Real life punishment, Videos

26 comments

The lost brush

Posted at 18:05 on 3 Jul 2008 by Pandora / Blake

I'm filming tomorrow with a private photographer whom I shoot with semi-regularly. He's been very kind to me in the past, including buying me my own Mason & Pearson hairbrush so it could be applied to my bottom during his shoots. We get on well and I always work hard to try and produce exactly the results he wants.

I've really been looking forward to tomorrow's shoot - I'll be being topped by one of my favourite female spankers, and the gorgeous Amy Hunter will be being punished alongside me. I've met Amy but never worked with her before, and given how long I've been crushing on her it seemed like the shoot would be enormous fun.

Why can these things are never as simple as they ought to be? I emailled the photographer when I got back from holiday to ask if there were any particular uniform items or props I should bring with me, and he named a few things including the Mason & Pearson brush he bought me. Great stuff - I love being spanked with it.

Except I can't find it anywhere.

I'd be devastated anyway - it was one of my favourite implements and I'd hate to have lost it. But it was a gift, and I need it for this shoot tomorrow. How will I show my face and admit to my photographer friend that I've lost the brush he bought me?

It normally lives in my toybox under the bed, but I noticed it wasn't there the last time I opened it. I assumed that Mr C must have accidentally packed it away in his implement bag the last time we used it. But he doesn't have it either, and I've searched high and low but I can't find it anywhere.

I haven't admitted this to my photographer friend yet - he's off email until tomorrow, so I was going to tell him when I arrived. He's a lovely chap and I'm sure he won't give me a hard time about it. But I know he'll be disappointed. And if I can't find it at all, I'll feel even worse.

Maybe I should suggest that I be punished, to show how sorry I am. I'd really rather not be - I hate being punished for "real" reasons. But I feel awful about losing this brush, and I can't afford to replace it. So perhaps it's the best option. But even if I can think of a suitable punishment to suggest, it won't replace the brush. :(

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Tags: Amy Hunter, hairbrush, Performers and producers, Real life punishment

2 comments

Quirt: punishment

Posted at 15:15 on 15 Apr 2008 by Pandora / Blake

I had my first experience of a quirt a little while ago. A kinky friend of mine is a bit of an expert in making and using leather whips, and back when we were first getting to know each other he promised me my first taste of one of his toys. For various reasons we've never had quite as many chances to play as we'd both like, and by the time we finally made a date in February we had a whole bunch of desires and intentions to explore together.

Th evening didn't start well. It was my fault, really. I'd been ill recently, had a long shoot that day, and was exhausted when I got home afterwards. I ended up running very late. We were trying out a new fetish night, and had originally planned to meet up first so we could get ready and travel to the club together. I was overwhelmed by stuff to do and kept postponing our meeting time, until eventually we agreed to just get ready separately and meet at the club. I said I'd text him as I was leaving the house so he could aim to arrive at the same time, but I forgot to send the text. I'd called and told him I was leaving in a few minutes, but I was meant to then text and confirm and I didn't. He ended up waiting at home for twenty minutes before deciding to leave anyway, and I didn't realise my mistake until I was on the tube and out of phone access. He got to the club considerably later than I did and he wasn't impressed.

While I was waiting for him to arrive I felt really anxious. I knew I'd messed up and I didn't know if he'd still be angry when he got there, and I didn't know if he'd be the kind of angry that could be resolved in role or if our date was ruined before it started.

Eventually we found each other, and the look in his eye told me everything I needed to know. I was definitely in trouble. But it was the kind of trouble that meant I was going home with him at the end of the evening. I breathed a sigh of relief as I kissed his hand and said I was sorry. "Oh, you will be," he said, and the threat held just enough of a spark of mischief that I could let go of my guilt. It would be dealt with later and I knew he'd be fair.

The fact that he was choosing to react in this way - that he wasn't letting me get away with messing him around, but he was determined to not let it affect our time together - was deeply reassuring. I felt the letting go, the security I always feel when I'm faced with discipline I know I can rely on. It feels very safe to know that I won't get away with something. Knowing I'd be punished later, that I'd atone in full, let me put the guilty feelings aside and start to enjoy my evening.

We had all sorts of adventures that night, both in the club and afterwards at his place, but those are another story. At one point in the evening he told me to stand with my hands resting on the wall while he used the quirt on me for the first time. I've wanted to taste this implement for years. He told me that this is what he'd be using for my punishment later. Twenty hard strokes, one for each minute he was kept waiting at home. I swallowed and looked down, knowing it was fair, frightened and excited but feeling that same security in his authority that was completely relaxing. He flicked the quirt against my shoulders, my back and buttocks, then started wrapping it, lashing my nipples and belly with the leather tips with perfect accuracy. The pain started to mount and each lash was beginning to really hurt. I was squirming in response to the quick, burning strokes and he had to tell me angrily to stay still.

Much later, when it was time for my punishment, I knew it was inevitable and I accepted it. He was gentle and firm and looked deeply into my eyes, checking in and connecting with me before telling me to resume my position against the wall. The whipping was hard and slow. I sobbed my count and my thanks after each stroke. I was quiet at first, concentrating on my breathing and on my count, emptying my mind and accepting the pain. By halfway through it was seriously hurting and I was struggling to stay still. By the end I was screaming before I found the breath to give my count, and afterwards I felt emptied, cleansed, resolved. It was closure, both emotionally and physically. Enough pain for me to really get a grip on, enough for me to feel pushed. I felt like I'd needed it, and in a strange way it was deeply satisfying.





Afterwards I knelt before him and thanked him for my punishment in a much more intimate way. I was very glad to be able to give him some closure in return. Tired and contented, we curled up in each other's arms and talked quietly as we drifted off to sleep. The sun had come up some time ago.

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Tags: dominance and submission, J, kink, other pictures, Photos, quirt, Real life punishment

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