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An ecstatic beating

Posted at 21:20 on 27 May 2014 by Pandora / Blake

I got out of the shower and took D's hands. In the wording that invokes our relationship, I told him that I would really like a flogging, "...on my back and legs and body. Does that sound like something you might enjoy?"

"Yes," he smiled, "I think I can manage that."

I lay face down on the bed, buzzing with happy excitement while he assembled floggers. He gave me a choice, and I picked the ones that looked like they had the most thud. For the last two days I'd been directing a Dreams of Spanking shoot that crackled with energy and joy, and I hadn't been beaten once. Time to redress the balance.

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Tags: breast punishment, breast slapping, cunt punishment, D, dominance and submission, flogger, kink, nipple clamps, strap


Why my breasts are sore today

Posted at 19:01 on 12 Mar 2014 by Pandora / Blake

Pandora Blake: wrists bound. Image from Dreams of Spanking

D bound my wrists and led me through to the spare room, smiling. He slung the rope over the top of the weights cage, pulled it down and my hands up, and tied it tight. The rope wasn't thick enough for me to comfortably hang my weight from it, so instead I reached up and grasped the bar above my head. In the mirror I watched my torso stretch taut.

He kissed me, touched my thighs and my breasts, pulled my head back by the hair to kiss my neck. He spanked me as if to say hello to my body, and I exhaled slowly, feeling the tingling as my skin woke up. Then he walked away.

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Tags: BDSM, bondage, breast punishment, breast slapping, conscious kink, D, dominance and submission, flogger, kink, rough sex



Posted at 21:07 on 15 Aug 2011 by Pandora / Blake

The main reason I was in Germany was to speak at BDSMtag, the first ever public conference hosted by the BVSM, a national German lobby group on behalf of fetishists and sadomasochists. Dirk Sands, the ringmaster of SM Circus, was also instrumental in bringing the conference about, and he invited me to speak. The pet play shoot was almost an afterthought, since I was visiting anyway.

On the train to Cologne I was working on my talk on my netbook, despite the fact that I was pretty sure the chap sitting next to me spoke English. He glanced over occasionally, but didn't seem to be paying too much attention. As we approached our destination, however, he kept trying to engage me in conversation. Eventually he came straight out and asked what a native English speaker was doing travelling from Paris to Cologne. I told him I was here for work, and he asked what sort of work I did. I laughed.

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Tags: BDSMtag, flogger, implements, Kink activism, other pictures, Politics, SM Circus, strap


101 uses for a flogger

Posted at 09:45 on 8 Jul 2009 by Pandora / Blake

Well, two, anyway.

A few nights ago D. and I were in bed, settling down to sleep. The lights were off, the windows open to try and get some through breeze; it's been baking in London since I got back. Once side effect of this is insects.

The first thing I know about the fly is D. jumping up and swatting irritably around his head, but by then it's flown off. He settles back down, grumbling about the uselessness of my cat, who is curled up on my feet and totally uninterested in hunting flies. After a few more minutes of buzzing and taunting on the part of the fly, D. loses patience. He turns the light on and looks around for it. It's up near the ceiling, too far to reach with a book, and I don't have a fly swat.

Naturally, D. grabs the nearest likely object to hand: Tom's brown leather martinet, left crumpled on the floor at the bottom of my bed after our scene with Caroline. (Yes, I need to tidy my room.) He starts lashing the flogger at the fly with a practised right arm, while I wake up enough to collapse in giggles. After a couple of strokes he hits his mark, and the fly plummets lifeless onto his pillow. The hapless creature is deposited outside, while I crack jokes about his irrepressible domliness. Secretly, I can't help feeling slightly jealous of the fly.

D. and I again, a couple of nights later. We're at his place this time, nearing the end of a long weekend of sun, friends, and re-acquainting ourselves with each other's bodies. I'm feeling recharged and horny after my week in the sun, and can't seem to get enough of him.

We've been up all night partying, and are both tired, but for me the tiredness is overwhelmed by sexual hunger. He's still feeling worn out, but I tell him he doesn't need to move much. He lies facedown on the bed while I lick him all over, and then lick him in some very specific places which swiftly wake him up. Before I know it I'm on my back, clutching the head bars of his bed with both hands, and he's kneeling over me with his 'horsehair' rubber flogger, grinning. This is a sensation-play toy rather than a particularly hard one, and I can't take my eyes off him as he takes his time shaking it out, teasing out the tangles with his fingers.

He whips my breasts with it, alternating each stroke with caresses that sensitise my nipples, and make the next hurt more than I expect. It hurts just enough to make me desperate for more, but not enough to make me afraid.

Later I'm kneeling up on the bed, legs spread wide and my hands clasped behind my back. He looks me in the eyes as he lifts my chin with one hand and slaps my breasts with the other. The slaps are hard, hard enough to shock me. I can feel the weight of my breasts, despite their smallness, as they bounce under the smacks. Between slaps he leans forward to kiss me; hot, teasing, melt-in-the-mouth kisses. Neither of us is particularly patient, and before much longer we're fucking as hard as we can, flushed and panting and me screaming loud enough to seriously annoy his neighbours. This is why I never believe him when he tells me he's too tired.

Last night, I found myself replaying the scene as I pleasured myself. I don't regret the passion that led us onto other things so fast, but pure sex is never enough to stimulate my imagination when I'm on my own: my masturbatory fantasies are far rougher and nastier than the things I usually get up to. I pictured myself tied down on my back, hands together and feet forced apart. A blindfold tied tightly over my eyes, heightening my sense of touch and making me more aware of my vulnerably open mouth. He's playing that stinging rubber flogger up and down my body, not discriminating as to where: the stinging lashes falling on breasts, nipples, tummy, ribs, hipbones, thighs. I'm twisting under the strokes, the tender flesh of my belly and sides unused to the impact, trying in vain to escape the stinging whip, but my moans belie my movements and every stroke just makes me wetter...

That's as far as the fantasy got, I'm afraid. Curse my short attention span.

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Tags: corrupting the innocent, D, dominance and submission, Fantasies, flogger, kink, Photos


More on back whipping

Posted at 12:55 on 1 May 2008 by Pandora / Blake

Wow, the weather's finally brightened, hasn't it? We had our first picnic of the summer over the weekend, and although the ground was damp and the rain drove us home early in the evening, today is glorious. I'm full of energy. (Who knows, maybe that energy will finally assist me in finishing the new version of my website I'm working on ... it's been a long time in coming.)

There are lots of things I want to write about at the moment - not least the new violent porn bill which was passed last Wednesday. My thoughts on that are taking a while to pull together, so in the meantime I want to return to the subject of back whipping. I touched on this in my previous entry, but I don't really feel like I communicates my feelings about it successfully.

A little while ago, a reader asked me about this by email:

1. What do you think of bare back whipping (see the pictures below)?

2. Take a look at the pictures on the links below. I really enjoy them because of the dynamics between the dominant and the submissive girl in these scenes. Just look at the determination is the eyes of the girls executing the strokes and how the submissive girls are working with their bodies to stand the pain. Pretty nice pictures, don't you think?

After thanking him for the fantastic photos, I replied as follows:

I have an interesting relationship with bare back whipping. On the one hand, it's definitely a part of my real-life play and I enjoy it as a form of punishment. I find it very realistic - it's associated with real, historical punishments and scenarios in my head, and as such it carries an edginess which I find very powerful. Well-executed back flogging can be a powerful, ritualistic thing and I've been known to be put in an altered state of consciousness after a prolongued whipping - the effect it has on the body is extremely powerful, and it can very easily put me into trance!

On the other hand, the physical sensations of back whipping don't have the same erotic charge for me that being punished on my bottom does. It's not that it's not connected to my masochism, because the meditative trance state evoked through back whipping is certainly the result of endorphine stimulation. It's that it connects to my kink in a different way. There's an instant, primal, sexual jolt connected to the idea of being spanked or whipped on my bottom, breasts or thighs. It's a highly erotically charged concept. Back whipping - like hand punishment - doesn't carry that instinctive erotic charge. But like hand punishment, it's a powerful psychological thing. And because the part of the body being punished isn't one which will allow the punishment to be sexually enjoyable on a physical level, the punishment can have a more harsh, non-consensual feel to it. And that's very powerful as well.

I think that comes closer to describing it. It's not that one type of CP connects to my sexual masochism and another doesn't, but rather that they connect to it in very different ways.

Remember my kinky friend who punished me with a quirt he'd made himself? His implement of choice is leather floggers. He has a beautiful collection, in various shades and types of leather, most if not all of them made by himself. He always takes a couple out with him when he goes to play parties or clubs, and most of the kinky girls in our social circle have tasted his florentine flogging at one time or another. Any public scene he plays will draw a crowd, and he invariably receives compliments on the grace and power of his flogging style for the rest of the evening.

During the same evening on which I earned a whipping with the quirt for keeping him waiting and making him late, he also used his floggers on me - a couple of floggers made of soft, heavy, straight-cut leather thongs, and a cat o' nine tails with harsh, plaited leather tails, which he swapped in when he wanted to step things up a notch. This was at the club, long before my punishment later in the night. It wasn't the first time he'd flogged me, but it was the first time he'd done so on a night when I was submitting to him alone, and neither of my Doms were present. Here's what I wrote about it in my personal diary:

The dungeon was crowded and not very well arranged, but we created a space and he put me on the cross for a flogging scene. We'd done this once before (at Torture Garden eight months ago), but I was his tonight and it made all the difference. He's very skilled with floggers. The florentine strokes started light, teasing me, drawing my hips back towards him as I ached for deeper sensations, and then pushing me back with sharper force that left me limp. The crescendo built to tidal waves of sensation that crashed over me. I floated in place, helpless; feeling as if I was being washed up on a shore, like driftwood, again and again. But he never quite let me drown - always catching me as my mind was going blank under the onslaught, soothing me, bringing me down before he started to build up the pace once again. He played me like a puppet and my body danced on the cross.

It ended with a series of blows that built up and up until I felt like I was standing under a waterfall, just letting the unbelievable force of it rain down on me, offering myself up to it. On the last crack between my shoulder blades my whole body sagged and I felt the tears start to flow. He stroked me, soothed my skin and took me into his arms, and I was laughing and crying, almost incredulous at the emotional force of what he'd done to me. It felt like catharsis, like a floodgate in me had been opened, leaving me weightless and shaking and completely blissed out.

Flogging doesn't really tap into my kink in some ways. My masochism responds to it, but it doesn't awaken that desire in me, that serpent uncoiling at the base of my spine, that other forms of CP and BDSM do. It seems almost asexual in some ways: a powerful physical and emotional act, like a meditation or a massage... intimate, deeply submissive and yes, the endorphines flood through me. But the sensations aren't erotic per se. It's subtly other, and I can't explain it. But it's intensely powerful.

I was spaced out for ages after that. I sat on his lap, still topless and the skin of my back hot to the touch, relaxed and happy while he talked to people. He got a lot of compliments and I talked a little about the scene and how it had affected me. We both agreed there had been a very intense connection between us. I remember some of the strokes communicating themselves to me like words, and the arcing of my body in response, like a conversation or like sex. I remember saying his name aloud in my head over and again as I let the pain wash over me.

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Tags: flogger, implements, J, kink, meta-analysis, other pictures, pandoras mailbox, quirt, whip


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