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Posted at 23:53 on 27 Mar 2008 by Pandora / Blake

I woke up slowly this morning from thick, vivid dreams. I'd dreamed about watching Amelia-Jane Rutherford being strapped on a shoot we were doing together, with a thick, leather strap so stiff it was almost a paddle. The pink bulls-eyes that glowed on her pert, heart-shaped bottom after the first few strokes were almost unnaturally round; perfect ovals of colour and heat.

I dreamed about Lowewood Academy; about a festival or convention that was taking place there, simultaneously in and out of character, and a scene I was creating for it, a fantasy that became real, in the dream, as I imagined it. I was bent over a low-lying tree branch that stretched out parallel to the ground, in the woods somewhere near the school. I hung from that branch, hair flying and feet dangling, while a long, thick brown leather strap was applied heavily to my own behind.

At the same time I dreamed that I was writing this scene, in pencil; bent over the paper obsessively; writing in the classroom, on the bus, at every opportunity I had; filling lined sheets of paper with tiny grey script. I remember describing the effect of that strap in loving detail, lingering on the way it wrapped around the curve of each buttock, heavy as a paddle but more flexible. In my dream I spent some time distinguishing between the colour brought out earlier on Amelia's cheeks, like a doll's blushes, and the effect this strap had on me, both fat buttocks licked all over with painful red.

Work and real life caught up with me when I woke up, and I didn't really have the mental space to think about spanking for the rest of the day. I barely checked the blogs and hardly noticed the moistness that lingered between my legs from the morning's dream. When Tom came round this evening, I knew he'd be tired and couldn't stay long, and wasn't really expecting the heat that surrounded our kisses. I was wearing a short dress (my room was far too hot, and I was tidying), and when he reached around to squeeze my bottom as the hem rose up to reveal it, I suddenly, desperately, wanted more.

He didn't disappoint me. He started light, pulling me playfully over his lap and keeping me off balance, further forward than I usually lie and legs lifted into the air by his right thigh. He smacked me warmly, letting the heat of each spank sink in before upping the pace. I gasped and wriggled, not even feeling pain as the delicious feeling flooded me. I'd needed this, badly. He spanked me carefully, hard, making my skin dance between pain and pleasure. I bounced on his lap, giving myself up to it completely. When it began to really hurt I smothered my face in the duvet and moaned.

He stopped and I thanked him, but for all our intention to move onto other intimacies he soon changed his mind. I was over his lap again, my legs pinned beneath his right thigh this time as he sat cross-legged on the bed. He'd asked me to get out his wooden hairbrush, a square beast that I've lived in fear of for several months. When he pinned one of my wrists in the small of my back I knew this was going to really hurt.

But he started kindly, bringing heat to my skin, teasing me with sensation. The harder spanks, when they came, were slow and satisfying, not too much to bear at all. He jolted his knee whenever he thought I needed adjusting, shifting my arse higher into the air, landing the spanks deep into the muscle of my rump. I squealed and kicked and had no fear. He knows how to make me scared, how to pace things so I feel nervous, and he wasn't doing that tonight. He was giving me what we both needed. Gradually the speed increased until I was sobbing for real into the pillows, and then it was over. He wasn't going to push me tonight.

He helped me up into a warm cuddle, and I could feel the flush in my cheeks, the sparkle in my eyes. And I thanked him, very nicely.

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Tags: Amelia Jane Rutherford, dominance and submission, hairbrush, hand spanking, kink, otk spanking, paddle, Performers and producers, strap, Thomas Cameron

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Mason & Pearson

Posted at 11:22 on 5 Mar 2008 by Pandora / Blake

A benefactor very kindly gave me a Mason & Pearson hairbrush last Friday. A Mason & Pearson! It's utterly beautiful. It was used on me a little over the course of Friday's shoot, but not nearly enough to satisfy me. In fact, that taste only served to whet my appetite: I took it with me when I went to a fetish club that evening, hoping that my date would be tempted to use it on me.

Happily, he was easily persuadable, although he waited until we got home from the club before putting me over his knee to be spanked. Slow, sensual, hard spanks that had me lifting my hips and wanting more.

Somewhat to my surprise, I haven't found the new hairbrush a particularly harsh implement so far. (For some reason, I'd imagined that fame was entirely proportional to how much it hurt.) It's beautiful, of course. Glossy, with a bit of weight to it, but not too much. It certainly doesn't have as much bite as wood; rather a delicious glow that grows gradually. You can feel the flare as each stroke connects, imagine the circle of red heat spreading out beneath your skin.

That said, my date on Friday is not a particularly violent spanker. Oh, he plays hard - the whipping he gave me with a leather quirt later on left welts that are still visible four days later. But when you're over his knee, his style is slower, more erotic. I daresay that my Mr Cameron, or another fast-and-furious spanker like Tom from Girls Boarding School, would quickly show me the harsher side of my new toy.

Speaking of which, one of the delicious things I discovered during my spanking on Friday night was how it feels to be teased with the bristle side of a hairbrush, inbetween spanks. It makes the skin all tingly and sensitive. Mmmm. So many different spanking styles, so little time ... :)

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Tags: hairbrush, kink, other pictures

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Hairbrushes and bath brushes

Posted at 22:07 on 3 Jan 2008 by Pandora / Blake

Happy new year! I've just about recovered from this year's celebrations, and am full of optimism about 2008. There hasn't been much play amongst the festivities, but I do have a story from the days just following Christmas.

While D was discovering pervertibles attached to his ceiling, Tom and I have been investigating new domestic implements of our own. Most notably a long-handled, heavy wooden bath brush belonging to one of my housemates. I've been eyeing this thing ever since I moved in - not least because at least one of my housemates is kinky, so it's entirely possibly that the bath brush has already been well and truly perverted.

But after the emotional rollercoaster of this year, during which I got so out of practice as far as traditional CP went, I was nervous about suggesting the bath brush to Tom. Although he must have noticed it himself. I'm improving slowly though, pushing my limits out a little further each time, and one evening I was feeling playful.

I've had little oval hairbrushes on my mind lately - polished wood, the kind a governess would use. Tom's hairbrush is large and square, with a very crisp stingy smack which is extremely hard to take, particularly used at speed. That hairbrush has had me kicking and literally screaming on more than one occasion, when I wasn't in the mood for a spanking and was getting one regardless. It's a vicious little beast. (This is all on the bare, of course: the sting of that hairbrush is actually quite nice over tight jeans.)

So, lacking a small, elegant ladies' hairbrush, I found my mind wandering to the untried bathbrush. Heavier, of course, but it would give me with warmth of thick wood without the unforgiving sting of Tom's hairbrush, or the coverage of a paddle. Tom thought the idea was an excellent one, and was kind enough to warm me up thoroughly beforehand.

The first two sets of six, over pillows on the bed with my bare bottom raised, were warm-up strokes, and as I squeaked and wriggled I could feel the effect they were having between my legs. It packed a generous wallop, but it was a pleasingly warm, weighty sensation - lots of thud at the centre of the impact, not too much sting at the edges. I began to think that this bathbrush might be my friend after all.

How wrong I was. The first "non warm-up" stroke landed squarely on the exposed line below my left cheek, which (Tom explained later) he had carefully left un-warmed with his hand to demonstrate how kind he was to warm up the rest of me. It burned. I flew out of position, clutching my injured cheek and failing to bite down on the swear-words escaping my mouth. I was lucky not to be punished further for that, but he chose to be lenient in light of the trick he'd played on me. The next five were not light, though. By the end my entire bottom was sore, and tormented by an unpleasant tickling sort of sensation. I've noticed that effect of heavy wooden implements - one's bottom takes on almost a sort of chilly numbness to the touch, afterwards, unlike the flames caused by leather, but with a deeper ache, and a prickly surface tingling.

Tom took pity on me, and rubbed aloe vera gel into my punished bottom, which helped my skin and my mood considerably. The rest of the evening was extremely pleasurable. But I don't think I'll ever underestimate that bath brush - or the importance of a proper warm-up - again.

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Tags: bath brush, D, dominance and submission, hairbrush, kink, learning curves, Thomas Cameron


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