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Philadelphia and Punished Brats

Posted at 23:53 on 25 Apr 2013 by Pandora / Blake

I arrived home from eight days in the US yesterday and I've done very little so far except eat, nap, and fall asleep in the bath. Attempts to reset my body clock so far have failed dreadfully. For the last week I've been sleeping for 3-5 hours out of every 24, at times of day that feel utterly random due to the time differential. My sleep cycle is now so screwed I wouldn't even know how to start mapping it, let alone fixing it. I arrived home at midday UK time, after snatching a couple of hours on the plane. My initial intention was to struggle through to the evening and reset everything, but I couldn't do it; I crashed out from 5-10pm, which is how I came to be up until 4am last night cuddling the cat and writing this.

During that five hour nap I dreamed of the party; of having breakfast with everyone on the last day, of hugging Alex and Vincent and Jade. In my dream we were all unable to tear ourselves away from each other, and everyone decided to stay just one more day. Wishful thinking. Strangely, over the last couple of days the people I've found myself thinking of the most aren't those who were closest to me or who provided the best memories, but the people I didn't get to spend as much time with as I wanted. The ones I wanted to play with, but the timings or whatever didn't work out. Cee-cee and Jerry, Ten and DrLectr and JC.

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Tags: Amber Pixie Wells, BBW, David Pierson, F-F, making a scene, paddle, Performers and producers, Photos, Punished Brats, shoot writeups, Sites and studios, spanking parties, Subbing to women, those crazy kinksters, Veronica Bound


Molly and me

Posted at 15:05 on 14 Jun 2012 by Pandora / Blake

While Zoe Montana was in the UK earlier this year she told me about an old friend of hers who was a newcomer to the spanking scene, going by the name of Molly Malone, and whom she wanted me to meet. Molly and I managed to miss each other at various gatherings of Zoe's - sometimes by a whisker - but I was curious to see the pictures from her first photo/video shoot, which was with Northern Spanking. Zoe assured me that I'd want to shoot with her, and that we'd like each other. How right she was.

When Zoe headed back to Australia without having had the opportunity to make introductions in person, I took matters in my own hands and dropped Molly an email. We met up for drinks and dinner, and hit it off. It turns out we have lots more to talk about than just Zoe and spanking. Over the last few weeks I've really enjoyed getting to know her better, and our first shoot for my site Dreams of Spanking is scheduled for early next month. Our first full day shoot, that is; we've already filmed an informal little al fresco spanking clip, which is going up on the site this week.

So that's the bare bones of my acquaintance with Molly. It's hard to know how to describe more than that so publically, when it's all still so new. We've become play partners: that happened almost instantly. Lovers, too, I suppose I should own up to. I like her a lot. More than that...

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Tags: Dreams of Spanking, kink, Molly Malone, Performers and producers, Photos, Subbing to women, switching, Zoe Montana


A placeholder paddling

Posted at 23:40 on 6 Mar 2012 by Pandora / Blake

I've been working on my website since 7am, and D is waiting for me in bed. So I don't have time tonight to write any of the clever or interesting posts I'd like to write. Other people have written some excellent ones lately; I'll try to find time tomorrow to link you to my favourites.

In the meantime (call it an apology if you like), here's a couple of pictures from last Wednesday's post-shoot play party, of me getting the paddle from Zoe Montana. Between her and my friend J that evening, I still have bruises.

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Tags: featured photos, kink, paddle, Performers and producers, Photos, Subbing to women, Zoe Montana


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


a March weekend

Posted at 21:39 on 29 Mar 2010 by Pandora / Blake

A couple of weekends ago the lovely March Middleton came to stay. It was a long-awaited visit. March and I have known each other for nearly six years - and the first time we shared a bed was over five years ago, when Tom and I went to a play club with her and her then-partner, and ended up back at Tom's for an intense scene.

Skip ahead a few years, and March and I find ourselves flirting whenever we meet up through our group of mutual friends (a phenomenon which is exacerbated whenever she wears a trilby and tie) and in January I ended up spending most of an evening making out with her while Tom was on stage. Luckily, he chose to be forgiving about the fact that this caused me to miss large parts of his performance ;)

This year I've suddenly gone from being almost-faithful to my two primaries for most of last year, to suddenly expanding my sexual and romantic horizons - a process catalysed partly by increased energy levels and lower (for a while at least!) work stress, and partly by the discovery that personal submission to women can in fact work for me after all. The downside is that my already-bursting calendar has exploded with new people I want to see as much of as possible - and these days "as much of possible" barely extends to one weekend every couple of months. Still, March applied just the right amount of patience and persistence, and by the time we'd exchanged a few naughty emails discussing the terrible things she was going to do to me, I wished that weekend would come sooner.

It turns out her way with words doesn't stop at naughty emails. She brought with her a story she had written, about a strict but rather wicked prefect and a very wayward young fifth-former. ("I'm afraid your character's underage," she confessed to me charmingly as I started to read. I, as you might expect, was hardly complaining.) I rather desperately want to post all of it, but I don't have permission; and in any case, it's not finished yet, stopping abruptly mere sentences before the dreaded hairbrush descends. I intend to pester encourage her to finish it, and then let me show you all. In the meantime, I do have permission to share this tantalising tidbit:

"Right, that's enough. You're coming to my room. I'm not disturbing Miss Gibson at this hour," snapped March. Something about her tone broke Pandora's resistance.

"No, no, please, March, I'm sorry!" she pleaded, in a rapid whisper. "I was only --" She stopped, realising that to explain that she had been hoping to sneak downstairs to return a book illicitly purloined from the mistresses' library would do her no good at all. And if March found out that it was a rude book (goodness knows how it had found its way into the otherwise staid collection on the staff's bookshelves), there would be the dickens of a row.

I had thought that when we played we might capture something of this fifth-former/prefect atmosphere, but yet again, my plans went out of the window when confronted with the reality of a sexy woman. Once we were in bed the atmosphere was purely, delightfully playful. I giggled while over her knee (a habit I should really try to get out of...), and while the spankings were fun, the sex that followed was even more memorable. I won't share all the gory details, but I will say that March is one of the most comfortably sexual people I have ever rough-and-tumbled with. Nothing seems more natural, with her, than to talk about all the explicit things we would like to do together; and doing them feels even easier, even things I have never done before. She inhabits her own body, and her own sexuality, with a cheerful ease that is thoroughly contagious. And I'm not sure I could tell you which of us was naughtier, although I was certainly the only one to be spanked for it.

We watched Secretary together, me for the first time, and heckled it a lot (I reacted pretty much exactly as I'd expected; the spanking scene and the second, not-a-spanking scene were hot - the rest of it was irritating and frustrating by turns). We played with a substantial proportion of the contents of our combined toyboxes, including a pleasing variety of phallic objects. On Saturday we visited Sh! Womanstore in search of a new harness for March (her share dildo was an awful lot of fun, but the silicone is heavy enough that gravity becomes a problem for the partner on top), and spent a happy couple of hours drinking tea, browsing dildos and talking lesbian sex with the helpful shop assistants.

Downstairs, while March was trying on harnesses (and bargain leather corsets - sadly neither of them fitted) I discovered, beside the in-store TV and DVD player, a collection of twenty Easy on the Eye DVDs. I'd been writing about Anna Span only the day before, but hadn't yet watched any of her films; there was nothing to do but put one on. I flicked my way through Pound a Punnet while March modelled sexy garments for me, and confirmed that Anna Span's work was everything I'd said it was - but, sadly, somewhat too vanilla to hold my sexual interest long. (Although there's always a space in my heart for good-humoured, authentic girl/girl scenes with enthusiastic kissing and real orgasms.) We came home with a new purple harness for March and new nipple clamps for me, and spent the rest of the evening trialling them, with great success.

She tried out various implements on my willing bottom, favouring her hand (a rhythmic, rapid, stinging spanking style, lingering first one one cheek and then the next, letting the heat build like pepper) and our combined collection of hairbrushes. I got very turned on very quickly; and, as at other times, I found my pain threshold expanding the more aroused I got, so that her hardest strokes were barely making me moan.

I wondered how to ask for more. I am apparently a much hungrier bottom than anyone March has beaten before, and I didn't want to be too demanding - on the other hand, there was no point her thinking she was pushing me, and me feeling unsatisfied; especially when we had found ourselves so adept at communication in other ways.

"Would it help if I told you how painful it was, in marks out of ten?" I suggested hesitantly. She agreed that it would help, and suggested that 5/10 should mean "just right", with numbers closer to ten meaning I was reaching my limits. Looking back, I suspect I got a bit confused about how to interpret "just right". I am a complicated creature, both masochistic and submissive; a spanking can sometimes be as hard as is physically pleasant without leaving me satisfied, because I usually want the sensations to break through that barrier before I'll feel challenged. I suspect that when I was saying "5" I meant "that feels nice; if you want it to properly hurt, please go harder"; and she was reading "5" as "that's as much pain as I want to take right now, thankyou".

Knowing my internal competitiveness, I suspect that the very act of rating the strokes made me inclined to take more pain, but it's hard to tell. It's possible that I just like very hard spankings. I don't think anyone reading this would be particularly surprised ;)

I got what I needed in the end, though. Realising that our numbers system might contain an embedded miscommunication, I took a deep breath and did that thing that comes so hard to me: asking for more. She was using my leather strap on me, we'd been playing for some hours and I was ever so warmed up, and I wanted a good yell before we got distracted again. "Would you be willing," I suggested tentatively, "to give me a few very very hard strokes with the leather paddle, before we stop? Perhaps, as hard as you possibly can?"

She was somewhat doubtful, but agreed. And oh my, she can pack a wallop when she really wants to. It was just the ending I'd been craving, and the fun we had afterwards was all the more enthusiastic for it.

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Tags: F-F, kink, March Middleton, Subbing to women


notes from the weekend

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


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.


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.


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



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


self-enhancing energy systems

Posted at 13:04 on 4 Feb 2010 by Pandora / Blake

My personal understanding of polyamory is strongly informed by a epiphany I had a few years ago. I'd just started getting together with D. - we weren't particularly serious yet, but were beginning to get that way. I was still involved in a dalliance with another couple, and was more than half in love with the woman. The point at which I accepted my feelings for her - even as I accepted they weren't reciprocated - energised me in such a way that I found myself more able to fall in love with D. Since then my experiences have backed up my belief that love is self-replicating and synergistic. It is the opposite of zero-sum; love expanding in one point of the network does not lessen the love in the rest of the network, but feed into it. When I am in love with one person, it gives me more loving energy in the rest of my relationships.

Sexual energy works the same way. Partly, the libido is like any other appetite - it is enlivened by exercise. Just as having more love makes you more loving, having more sex makes you more horny.

2010 so far has been the year of new lovers. I really didn't have the time or energy for new romantic entanglements last year, and my vague attempts to sub to a woman without my head breaking continued to be problematic. This year, something seems to have shifted. I'm finding myself with much more energy for new people, and so far all of them are switchy or toppy women. I am massively grateful to Penny D, my co-pioneer in this process, for helping me open the door in my head (and I very much hope she will feature in many of my stories this year). But I didn't expect the explosion of reciprocated interest and opportunity which followed hot on her heels.

This week, then. One of those weeks where intimacy begets intimacy; where electric encounters not only re-energise me (and allow me to feed that energy back to other partners) but in some magical way, seem to directly re-energise everyone else in my network.

It started last Thursday night, with an intense play session with Tom. It was our first for a few weeks, and provided a release for all the desire that had built up during our acting weekend. I spent part of the evening showing him some of the stills from the shoot we did with Zille in December, which re-ignited all sorts of hot memories (and our intense crushes on the lady in question). Then I showed him the two Control and Reform DVDs I've promised to review at some point (soon, I hope!), one of which shows an astounding, severe whipping during which the model, despite her valiant attempts to act unhappy, cannot quite disguise the fact that she is falling deeply into subspace and absorbing the pain with a deep, calm joy. It's not particularly in character but I love the scene almost because of the visible discrepancy between the character's and the actress's reactions.

In bed, I lay on my tummy as he spanked me. It was long gone midnight and we occupied that dreamlike space which seems to wrap around you like a bubble when you're making love in the middle of the night. I dropped so swiftly and deeply into subspace that I remember very little of the scene. I remember the sensation of his hands, each smack far harder than I expected, but so warm and intimate that I was able to stay grounded, react to the pain without fear. He rubbed between each stroke, and I crested wave after wave of sensation. My responses were quiet at first, small gasps of breath, shudders passing through my body. He moved from hand to my wooden ruler - gentle at first, but then biting into the backs of my thighs again and again, the impossibly sharp sensations contrasting with the palpable gentleness of his other hand, resting in the small of my back.

I was convinced that the next implement he used on me was my grown-up leather paddle, and responded as warmly as if it was. I love that paddle, and although it hurts like hell, there's something reassuring about it. It's an adult, sexy implement, very much for play rather than punishment, and however much it hurts I tend to respond more with arousal than distress. I remember, though, when he switched to another, similar implement - heavy leather again, but very different in touch - and I looked over my shoulder and saw the leather paddle in his hand, and the senior brown tawse lying on the bed beside him. The tawse which normally freaks me the hell out, which I cannot take without a huge amount of fuss. I had lifted my hips to meet it, accepted the force of each stroke as it coursed through my body. Which just goes to show how much of this is in the mind.

The next night - Friday - I had a long-awaited date with an elegant lady I first kissed almost six years ago. It's taken us this long to finally hook up properly, and the evening was decadent and genteel: we dressed up in evening wear and Venetian masks, danced together at a late-night gallery opening, and once back at mine she licked champagne off me and called me her nymph. If I was a nymph, she was a goddess: serene, graceful and with a natural dignity and poise. She arranged me to her satisfaction on my hands and knees, and purred over my body, running her manicured hands lightly over my back and bottom. She murmured an arch, rhetorical commentary as her fingers teased and slapped my prominent rump. "Now, how does one go about the spanking of a naughty nymph? Perhaps one might start with a sharp smack here ..." It was light, tantalising, and made me hungry for more.

On Saturday D. came over, and surprised me by obliging my unspoken need for something harder. I can rarely tell when he'll be in the mood to play, and it's usually a delicious surprise when he does. Perhaps I commented on the fine quality of his leather belt earlier in the evening, and put the thought in his head? However it came about, I found myself lying on my tummy again, fresh and naked from my shower, while he ran the doubled belt over my eager skin. Lying flat made the belt easier to take than when he requires I arch my back for it. He started gently enough that I could respond with enthusiasm, but the strokes got harder quickly enough to satisfy my hunger. I found myself yelping and hissing through my teeth as the pace and intensity increased, no longer worrying about expressing my enjoyment, just responding instinctively to the powerful combination of pain and pleasure. His hands on other parts of my body increased my eagerness, and after he'd whipped me to his satisfaction he rolled me over and - another wonderful surprise - licked me until my other craving was sated. By the time he'd finished I felt thoroughly spoiled, and more than ready to return the favour and pamper him in return.

The first few days of this week mostly consisted of work, but last night Tom and I had something to celebrate (good news related to a new business venture of his). I wanted to show him the rest of the stills from the shoot with Zille, knowing what mood it would put us both in. Entrepreneurial excitement spilled over into physical desire. As I was getting into bed I surprised both of us by climbing on top of him for a passionate kiss - which somehow turned into me on my front again, and him switching me with fast, rapid strokes that left me panting. Again, I found myself dropping into that trusting place where my first responses were quiet, breathy; making space for him to hit me harder and faster, saving my yelps for what I knew was to come. He finished with a long series of hard strokes, the thin whippy switch biting into my bottom and thighs with an almost unbearably high-pitched sensation. I let the pain wash over me, neither resisting nor struggling. I'm not sure what I enjoyed more: the knife-sharp, intense switching; the warmth and desire in his voice as he called me his good girl; or my surprise as he drew me into a kneeling position, stood in front of me and aggressively thrust his ready cock into my mouth. As I pleasured him I revelled in the sensations, in my own arousal from the whipping, and in the clear evidence of how much he had enjoyed it.

This is the sex life I missed having last year. I don't expect it to continue uninterrupted, but oh, these little sequences of encounters, each feeding energy back into the next, are truly lovely when they naturally happen this way.

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Tags: D, dominance and submission, kink, meta-analysis, Serafina, Subbing to women, Thomas Cameron


Out with the old, in with the new

Posted at 21:09 on 2 Jan 2010 by Pandora / Blake

Happy new year! I hope 2010 has been good to you all so far, and that the coming year brings you joy and satisfaction.

Graham has raised the question of kinky resolutions, and although I hadn't really thought about it, I realised I do in fact have some. Like Pixie, I don't like the false custom of new years resolutions, but I am a bit of a self-improvement nut and I put huge amounts of energy and determination into pursuing my dreams. So the new year isn't the only time I make resolutions, but it's a useful time to take stock and look back on what I've achieved.

2009 has been a massive year for me in some ways, and low-key in others. I've put most of my energy into work and creative projects - both kinky and vanilla. This has left less energy for socialising, meeting new people and lovers, and spending quality time with my partners. (I suspect I'll be chasing after that elusive perfect balance all my life.) I've managed to squeeze in more than I thought I could, but it's been a draining year as well as a successful one, and it would be nice to use 2010 to rejuvenate rather than drive myself further into exhaustion.

Still, it's been worth it. In the past year I have:

  • filmed with Pain4Fem in Slovakia, which included taking the most severe cold caning of my life

  • been a petgirl, and modelled at BoundCon - including doing a stage show, and playing with someone I'd only met that evening

  • experienced the bullwhip (not hard) and watched it used on someone else (extremely hard...)

  • played with some wonderful new people, including kinky sisters Graham and Caroline Grey (not at the same time, alas)

  • written and produced a film for Roué, which involved casting one of my all-time favourite spanking models in one of my all-time favourite fantasies (words cannot describe the buzz I got from this!)

  • started filming content for my own spanking site - a process which was slower than I'd have liked thanks to my heavy workload, but I'm pleased with my progress nonetheless.

  • modelled for explicit sexual content ('hard b/g') for the first time, also for my new site. This consisted of D and I doing what we normally do, while Tricia and her camera made herself invisible in the background. There was much giggling. It was extremely hot, and the pictures turned out way better than I expected.

  • edited video for the first time

  • met and made porn with Zille and Malc, people I have been wanting to meet since I first started reading Zille's blog

  • joined Zoe Montana as an "extra" in her private sessions, as her plaything being punished alongside her clients, although the gentlemen themselves weren't allowed to spank me. This was a thrilling and rewarding experience, not least because of Zoe's and my electric connection when we're working together. It's reinforced my impression that 1-2-1 sessions are not my thing, and there are probably very few tops/switches I would be comfortable doing this "cheat" with, but the experience was very worthwhile, and all the more precious because I knew it wouldn't last long.

  • invested my own hard-earned money on my new site, including buying cameras and related gadgets, hiring tech people and actors. Financial independence is a huge deal to me; being able to spend my own money on a new business even more so. It makes me feel thrilled and grownup and excited, and I wish I could afford to do it more often.

So what's in store for 2010? Well, although I'm a compulsive planner, in some ways 2010 is a big unknown. There's some stuff in the pipeline which, if it happens, will dramatically change my life, but which I don't want to talk about until it's confirmed. Some things I can be sure of, though:

  • One way or another, Tom and I intend to finally move in together this year. This is a source of great comfort and joy to me: living alone has been massively important and significant, but more and more I find myself thinking life would be so much easier if I could come home to him. Given how much I cram into my weeks, and his chronic illness, time and energy to play is hard to find, and both of us feel this would be much easier if we didn't have to plan and travel and schedule time together, we could just seize the moment when it arose. If and when this happens, I hope that domestic spankings will become a much more regular feature of our lives.

    Related to this is the fact that since our relationship has become less angsty and more settled, we haven't tried to rejuvenate the domestic discipline which was a feature of our first passionate fling. I'm older and prouder now, and less inclined to take instruction, but I still feel an urge to be submissive to my partners in more than just the bedroom, and I could certainly still benefit from a little instruction now and then. In particular, I think D/s has the potential to really help with my anxiety, and I could always use a little assistance with exercise and time management. (My problem these days is working too much rather than not enough, but balancing work and leisure continues to be an area I need to focus on.) I don't think either of us has grand ambitions of a sudden lifestyle upheaval, and I don't think I'll ever be a lifestyle slave, but we both accept there isn't space in our lives to develop this aspect of our relationship at present, and we would both cherish the chance to do so.

    Of course, with all these changes it is just as important to me not to compromise my relationship with D, and to remain as committed to him as ever. He's not as interested in this sort of formal domestic power exchange, but our connection is equally powerful. I love him deeply and he improves my life more than I can say. Whatever happens, I don't want to lose what we share.

  • My main professional ambition this year, of course, is to launch my new site. I don't know if this is achievable - everything is dependent on my vanilla work, which I depend on financially, and which (because I'm self-employed) is so unpredictable. If I don't have time (or funds) to invest in developing my site, such is life - there's nothing I can do about that except work hard, save as much as I can, and be patient. My effort and focus is not the issue so much as opportunity. I trust myself to do my best, and I understand that if it doesn't happen, it will not be for lack of trying. But I would dearly like to see all my work so far come to fruition this calendar year.

  • Despite working with many wonderful women over the years through shoots, I have never successfully developed a private D/s connection with a woman. My play with Zoe has all been professional - despite the intensity of our connection, it's never crossed over into the personal sphere. My girlfriends have, almost without exception, been submissive, and while I've dated some switches, I've never seriously played with a female lover. (The one exception is the beautiful and impressive Olivia Manners, but although I admire her a great deal, our first attempt to play somehow didn't really click, probably because my head was in a strange place at the time. I like the idea that we might try again at some point, but so far I don't think it quite counts as successful D/s.)

    All this is by way of build up to the fact that for the last few weeks, I have been enjoying an intense flirtation with a gorgeous toppish woman I have fancied for some time. We've done lots of flirting at group social events, stayed up late talking, stolen some tantalising end-of-the-night kisses, and we've even done all the sensible negotiation stuff by email (including my wibbling about how I've never subbed to a woman and ARGH what if my head is BROKEN blah blah, in response to which she said all the right things). In fact, so far we've done everything except actually play, but we have a date next Wednesday and I am ridiculously excited. She's as inexperienced with CP as I am at subbing to women, so we're going to be learning together, and our connection seems honest and playful and open, and all the omens so far are good. I will hopefully let you know how it goes - after checking that she doesn't mind me writing about it, of course. So hopefully I will be able to fulfil that ambition very soon in the year indeed, and spend the rest of the year basking in my success. We'll see!

So there you have it. How about you? Was 2009 a good year for you, kink-wise? And what do you have in mind for 2010?

Keep reading »

Tags: Amber Pixie Wells, Boundcon, bullwhip, cane, Caroline Grey, dominance and submission, Graham Grey, kink, learning curves, Pain4Fem, pet play, Photos, porn production, SM Circus, Subbing to women


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