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Playing with Faye Summers

Posted at 14:40 on 6 Jul 2019 by Pandora / Blake

It was very strange, packing a bag with toys and BDSM equipment, showering and grooming myself, and preparing to leave the house - for the sake of a session where I was going to be the one paying, rather than the one being paid.

Normally when I'm packing implements to see a client, if I'm going to be receiving, I choose toys that I like. This time, I was explicitly picking the implements I hate. Playing with a trusted friend, I wanted to go deeper than I can when I'm with a client, and explore some of the sensations that make me more afraid. 

In a way, it was relaxing knowing that this appointment was for me. I didn't bother wearing makeup, I threw on comfy clothes, and I didn't have to re-read anyone's emails to refresh my memory about what they wanted. Driving to Faye Summer's apartment just south of the river, my mind was calm. Rather than anticipating the appointment, I enjoyed the sunshine and listened to music, my thoughts clear.

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Tags: anal, BDSM, bondage, breast play, kink, pregnancy, sex in pregnancy, spanking, submission, tawse, wooden paddle


Lost Causes: out now!

Posted at 22:43 on 4 Mar 2013 by Pandora / Blake

Exciting news! Lost Causes, the Edwardian film by Rou starring Adele Haze, Thomas Cameron and myself, is now available to purchase on DVD.

Working as a producer/director team alongside the Rou crew, Tom and I wrote the script based on characters from our previous Rou production; fin de sicle finishing school lesbian Miranda Somerville and her dancing instructor and master of discipline, Thomas Cameron (Tom originally took his screen name from this character).

Lost Causes - Roue Productions Lost Causes - Roue Productions

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Tags: Adele Haze, bloomers, cane, Edwardian, featured photos, historical, Performers and producers, Photos, Roue, tawse, Thomas Cameron


A teabreak tawsing

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, that or blistered."

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

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

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

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

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

"Count down, or up?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Valentine's Subversion

Posted at 20:59 on 10 Feb 2010 by Pandora / Blake

On Saturday I took Tom to Club Subversion as part of our Valentine's celebration. (We don't take Valentine's that seriously, but I'm a bit soppy about my men and tend to get overexcited about opportunities to spoil them.) The three of us haven't done much fetish clubbing in the last year, we've mostly been too busy. But Tom and I in particular have been playing more than usual lately; I figured that one way or another, we'd probably have fun :)

I didn't even think about my outfit until the day before. This event was vampire-themed ('love at first bite') which, I have to admit, didn't particularly appeal. I considered doing something with devil horns, but eventually decided to ignore the theme and go for an easy, comfortable outfit which would flatter my recent weight gain. I settled on a 'harem girl' look; a beaded veil, flowing sleeves, and a belly dancer's coin belt slung low over transculent trousers slit open on each side. I accessorised with jangly bangles and blackberry nail varnish on my fingers and toes. Tom was doing his customary half-gentleman, half-scoundrel thing in leather trousers, velvet waistcoat and a white dress shirt open at the neck. Whenever he does the "dishevelled formal-wear" thing I always have trouble resisting the urge to lick his collarbones.

It was really great to see people, particularly my friend J whom I haven't seen since the shoot with Zille, and his partner. When we first found them upstairs J was involved in a triple-topping scene, himself and two stylish dommes (whom I think we saw running a classroom scene at my first ever Night of the Cane) attending to a young lady I vaguely know, who looked very pretty strung up on a St Andrew's Cross. A lot of people had done the vamp thing to the nines, and the overall effect was not unlike wandering into a kinky Camarilla event. We had fun watching people and chatting - Subversion is such a friendly, welcoming club there's a danger of spending the whole time talking.

Unfortunately Tom's health was not at its best. He warned me shortly after we settled in that he might not be up to anything energetic, and I was glad to have friends to chat to when he went outside for a bit to clear his head.

So I was surprised and pleased when, a little while later, he whispered that he was inclined to find an available whipping bench and spend some time doing wicked things to me. It was a busy club, but he'd kept an eye on a black padded bench in the corner, and when it was vacated we moved over. All our friends were sitting in clear view of it - I used to feel a bit odd about playing in front of friends rather than strangers, but my exhibitionist streak must have developed, because this time I found the idea actively exciting.

I was kneeling down by the bench, kissing his hand and taking a quiet moment to get in sync with him in the crowded club, when another couple slipped past us and started using the bench. Not much we could do about it: there's always competition for furniture, and the window of opportunity in which we could have challenged their claim passed before it occurred to either of us to try. No big deal, anyway - we'd no doubt find somewhere eventually, even if it wasn't in front of a crowd of people we knew.

We ended up upstairs, being watched by a growing crowd that included J and his partner, but no other familiar faces. I bent over a spanking bench which may well have been the same one we played on last April. Tom removed the jingling coin belt and pulled the loose trousers down to reveal my bottom. He started to whip me, lightly, with one of his little switches. The more we play with these the hornier they make me. Playing in a club, where you can't easily hear each other, is always slightly odd - I feel like my gasps are being drowned in the background noise. I tried to respond physically as much as possible to keep him aware of how I was feeling, and he helped the connection by checking in with me regularly, stroking my hair and whispering things in my ear.

I responded to the whipping with enthusiasm. I was ready for this, I wanted it; I wanted to make him proud. He used the heavy brown tawse on me, which I used to be so scared of but am gradually warming up to. I watched J and his lady drift away from watching us; he bent her over an item of furniture on the other side of the room, and as I was gritting my teeth through the tawse strokes I half-watched him preparing to flog her.

After Tom had warmed up my bottom, he drew me to a kneeling position, and guided me round so I was sitting on the edge of the bench. He told me to put my hands behind my back. "Look at me," he said, and then held my eyes as he proceeded to switch my breasts. I could feel the eyes of all the watchers - and sense the movements of all the figures wandering past, ignoring what was happening. The tip of the switch on the curve of my breasts was sensual and delicious, but he took careful aim and landed several sharp flicks right on my tender, erect nipples. It hurt so much I twisted and cried out, and when my eyes met his again they were fearful. He gave me a few more strokes, just because he could, and then a slow, predatory grin spread across his handsome face.

"Now," he growled, "I'm ready to cane you."

Back over the bench I went, shivering with sensation and anticipation. "I'm going to give you 36 strokes," he told me quietly. "No need to count them. Just keep your bottom pushed out for me, and make sure you return to your position after each stroke."

I devoured that caning. The bench was too short for my arms and body, so to hang onto the other side comfortably my hips were bent, and my bottom jutted vulnerably over my bare feet. (Tom had carefully removed my slippers when one of them threatened to fly off during the switching.) I breathed with the strokes, concentrated on remaining obedient and graceful, on keeping my back arched and my bottom offered up to him submissively. It must have hurt a lot, because halfway through I peeked and realised he was using the Master cane, 12mm of stiff dragon tailored to the needs of Tom's reach and my arse. It has a thick, firm bite that seems to resonate through my pelvis, and it leaves glorious bruises. But I was so aroused, so focussed on being pleasing and taking the strokes well, so utterly subsumed by the moment, that the experience consisted of almost pure pleasure. Or, if pain - and there must have been pain, even if the physical memory has faded - entirely the right kind of pain.

The only blip in an otherwise dreamy scene was when we were interrupted by a random woman who - apparently, although Tom handled it so well I was totally unaware of what was happening at the time - marched into the scene without making eye contact with either of us and started berating Tom for bruising me. That was the first time I realised how hard we were playing, and when I caught sight of the cane he was using. I'd been floating so high I thought he'd been using one of the safe, medium canes, but the knowledge he was bruising me lent an extra frisson to the rest of the caning.

Afterwards I breached all reasonable etiquette by twisting round and kissing him enthusiastically. I perched on my hot, welted bottom on the end of the bench, kissing him deeply, running my hands up and down his back and wrapping my legs around his waist. I was ridiculously turned on. I can't imagine anyone paying attention could have been seriously worried that the scene was nonconsensual!

I was on a high for the rest of the night. I straddled his lap, stealing many more kisses, and persuaded him to lay me across his knees for a warm hand-spanking on my bruised bottom. I could have happily kept playing and playing.

We headed home not long after, as even the best caning can't mend a poorly Dom as well as sleep can. I had beautiful black and purple stripes to match my painted toenails, and after that scene I was more than willing to be taken to bed.

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Tags: breast punishment, cane, dominance and submission, Fetish clubbing, hand spanking, kink, Photos, switch, tawse, Thomas Cameron

1 comment

The implements left behind

Posted at 16:41 on 5 Jan 2010 by Pandora / Blake

I have a confession to make: I still haven't unpacked my suitcase from the shoot with Jimmy and Zoe. Since then there has been New Year with D, work, and several days spent hibernating in bed and cuddling a heat-seeking kitten, rather than venturing out into the cold of my flat to do housework. The suitcase is still, in fact, behind me as I write this, bulging with unfolded school uniform, stockings, shoes and implements.

The implements are all my nicest ones, because I wanted Jimmy's introduction to video to be reasonably gentle. My Mason & Pearson hairbrush, my soft two-tailed tawse, my black leather paddle, my ruler and my two canes - all of these are still packed.

I realised the downside of this when Tom started spanking me last night, and the only implements left in my toybox were the nasty ones. The ones I thought would be too harsh to use on Jimmy's first shoot. The wooden clothes brush, the little round bath brush, and the heavy brown leather tawse.

It had started gently enough. I leaned in for a kiss; the kiss turned into a longer kiss, and then his hands were slipping underneath my warm winter pyjamas and tugging the bottoms down. I was entirely willing to roll onto my front, bare cheeks exposed and the rest of me still snuggled in duvet and bedclothes. I hugged the pillows with both arms and made appreciative sounds as he started to spank me.

One slow, loving, teasing spanking later, I was pushing my hips back for more. He helped me kneel up properly, back arched and bottom offered submissively, and started to step up the pace. Tom's hands can really pack a wallop, and at each harder smack I would yelp and twisting away before quickly returning to position. I didn't want him to stop, but I couldn't manage to stay still, either. I found myself being held tight against his hip, one arm around my waist. I loved the feeling of being kept in position, helpless as he dealt me a slow series of hard, stinging, fleshy smacks.

Then I was on my hands and knees in the middle of the bed, breathless and turned on, but knowing that I wouldn't be able to keep my bottom nicely arched for him if he continued at that force. Tom reached behind him and brought the bath brush out of the toybox. It looks small, but it's fiercely stingy and quickly becomes unbearable if used fast. I may have whimpered involuntarily.

"Get in position, love," he said kindly.

"May I have some pillows?" I asked nervously.

"You may."

Being able to rest my tummy on pillows made it easier to stay put, and the first few strokes weren't too bad. By the end of the spanking, though, the stinging brush was getting really difficult to take. I was crying out and grabbing at the sheets, and Tom's target was moving around more than it should have been. But he wasn't finished yet.

"Stay there," he told me. "I'm going to give you six with this." I sneaked a peek and was horrified to see that he was holding the heavy brown tawse. It's made of a stiff, thick leather, and leaves wide stripes that burn and throb, all along their length, for many breaths after the first unbearable blaze of sting.

Serves me right, I suppose, for not having more palatable implements to hand in the bedroom.

His voice and hands were soothing, though, as he reassured me that I was only getting six, and I wouldn't have to count them or thank him, just make sure I returned to position after each stroke. I nodded. I didn't think of disobeying. I didn't want to disobey. I felt safely cradled by his firm authority; comforted by the love in our power exchange. But I knew this was going to hurt.

It did. It really, really hurt. I tried to stay quiet and still for the first few, absorbing the pain with my breath, feeling the energy shudder through my body. But the last three made me yell and jump up. I didn't need reminding to get back into position each time, but my whole body was shaking as I lifted my bottom for the next explosion of pain. Each time my obedience was rewarded with a rough, tingling rub almost as painful as another smack, but which I welcomed nonetheless.

There was an even better reward waiting for me when it was over, though. A counterpoint to the heavy, thuddy tawse in the form of a certain cat toy. This hadn't made it into the shoot suitcase as it doesn't really have the right look for domestic or school discipline - a happy accident. He proceeded to set my tenderised bottom alight with tiny, stinging strokes that quickly had me moaning in pleasure. Afterwards he said he hadn't been sure how I was reacting to it, so let me state for the record that it was pure, erotic deliciousness.

I would never have chosen that bath brush or that tawse for a consensual, loving spanking scene - but D/s isn't always about my choices, and he was gentle where it counted. When I'm able to let go and submit to it, I love to be pushed, to submit to his choices even through my fear. It makes the fun stuff that happens next so much more satisfying.

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Tags: bath brush, cat toy switch, dominance and submission, hand spanking, kink, tawse, Thomas Cameron


The results are in!

Posted at 00:36 on 25 Aug 2008 by Pandora / Blake

A brief and sleepy post (I should have been in bed a couple of hours ago) to note that the winner for the second implement in my blogiversary whipping is the senior tawse, at 33 out of 107 votes:

(Hand only shown for purposes of scale.)

The brute is 21" long, 2" wide, ¼" thick and stiff as a board. I hope you're happy :P

The provisional numbers (subject to Paul verifying usernames) are ten with the cane, and thirteen or fourteen with the tawse. The extra one is due to an NSI member who emailed me about their vote in the poll, but didn't let me know their username - I've asked them to confirm it, and if they get back to me before I send the list of names to Paul then that stroke will be counted. Two of the commenters didn't say whether they were new sign-ups or existing members of Northern Spanking, so I'm assuming the latter unless Paul tells me otherwise.

I'm not sure yet which order the punishment will be delivered in - like Ludwig, I'm a fan of the beautiful marks you get from cold canings, and to be honest the senior tawse isn't a warm-up implement either, so neither way would be an easy option. I think I'll leave that decision up to Mr C in the end - but if you want to weigh in, please feel free. :)

I'm tremendously proud of you all, and I'm so relieved not to be facing a hand punishment that right this second I'm - well, if not looking forward to the prospect, then at least feeling pretty good about it. I'm more nervous of the tawse than the cane, because the tawse is an unknown quantity. Ten with the cane will be tough, but I know I can do it. The rest ... well, we'll see.

Thanks for being such good sports, for taking part, leaving comments, spreading the word, putting up an awesome show of support for our favourite spanking site, and sparing me the ordeal of tawsed hands ... for now, at least. :)

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Tags: Blogging, blogiversary, cane, tawse

1 comment

Eight strokes, and counting ...

Posted at 17:14 on 22 Aug 2008 by Pandora / Blake

Well, I've moved, and I'm back online after a few days without internet. It was actually quite nice to have a break, considering that I generally spend my life online. I've been settling into my new flat and am totally in love with it. It's the first time I've had a place of my own, and it's tiny and charming.

In general, this has been a move of joy - it's wonderful to have my own space (and much more convenient for shooting my own spanking material at home!) and it's all gone smoothly. In fact this move has blessed me with more things than a beautiful new home. While I was packing up all my possessions at my old house, I found several precious things which have been missing for months and which I thought were lost forever. Including ... can you guess?

Yep, the gods saw fit to return my Mason & Pearson to me :) My photographer friend will be pleased, and it just goes to show that the punishment had a positive effect after all! Why else would it have turned up again mere days after I was spanked for losing it?

So yes, everything's good in my world - and I was delighted (or scared; take your pick) to come back online and discover that you lot are exactly as sadistic as I thought you were! I was a bit anxious that going offline right when I was encouraging you to spend your hard-earned cash on a deserving cause (and great porn) would doom my blogiversary plan. I thought that without me reminding you every day, interest would wane. How wrong I was!

Thanks so much (I think ...) to everyone who's promoted this on their own blogs - Ludwig, Adele Haze, Niki Flynn, Prefectdt, the man behind the whole crazy idea, and even Paul and Lucy themselves. My inner exhibitionist loves the attention, my soppy side is glad that NSI are doing so well out of this, and at this rate my bottom will be sorry for days :)

Which brings us to the count so far. I haven't got Paul to confirm these numbers yet, but it looks like we're up to eight cane strokes and ten not-cane strokes, although there's apparently some dispute over the latter (yes, I'm looking at you, Ludwig and Indiana!). Which is perfectly respectable, particularly given Mr C's determination to make them count. Since he's made noises about delivering them with his Master's dragon cane, I'm torn: eight is already enough to make me nervous, but I wouldn't be playing by the rules if I didn't continue to encourage you to support NSI until the last possible moment.

One important question still needs to be answered. Which implement should I receive the first half of my punishment with? (And why do I have a sinking feeling that this isn't going to be a "warm up" at all ... ?)

The candidates, based on your suggestions are as follows:

The tawse on the hands was requested by James M, which I've never received and am incredibly nervous about, having received very little hand punishment before, and all of it with the cane. I'm really not sure ten strokes would be a fair starter, and beg you very, very sincerely not to choose this option. The tawse in question would probably be the vicious little pocket-sized one in this photo.

To make the alternatives more tempting, there's a choice of two bigger tawses which could be applied to my behind. (No, given my inexperience with hand punishment, I'm not offering you the option of either of these on my hands.) The medium one is one of my favourite implements; stingy and sensual. The senior one is a heavier, thicker, longer, brown leather two-tailed prefect's tawse from Academy Incorporated. It's very stiff with a rough finish, giving a general impression of horror and brutality. I don't know what it feels like because when it arrived I freaked out and hid it away, so I can't tell you exactly how nasty it is. But I know how savage it looks.

Smallhanded requested a cat o'nine tails. We have a few implements which could be said to fit that description. One is a leather martinet with square-cut thongs similar to this one, very sharp, very heavy. Historically, it's a French implement of domestic discipline, and it's one of Mr C's favourites so I expect it'll get his vote :) There's also a selection of floggers available, so I've picked out two.

I'm afraid that having offered it as an option, none of us, out of the three, own a strap - which is shocking, I know, and worthy of punishment in itself. The senior tawse is pretty close, I reckon, and the next best thing is a leather belt. (D. even has one without the buckle, which is handy.) So I've thrown that in as well.

not-cane strokes

Which implement should be used to deliver the first half of my blogiversary spanking?

Tawse (on the hands)
Medium two-tailed tawse
Senior two-tailed tawse
Leather flogger
Knotted leather flogger

There you have it - voting is open until midnight on Sunday. (Please don't pick the first option. Please, please, please. I'll cry and it'll be horrible. I'll take extra strokes if you don't pick the first option...) And don't forget, you can still add to the total numbers by joining NSI and posting your username here in a a comment.

Okay. I'm going to post this before I lose my nerve!

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Tags: Blogging, blogiversary, cane, hairbrush, hand tawsing, other pictures, poll, tawse


The historical punishment of juveniles

Posted at 11:20 on 13 Aug 2008 by Pandora / Blake

I've just discovered a fascinating website: an archive of historical material about the corporal punishment of juveniles. It's lovingly researched, focussing mostly on the punishment of boys, and contains a wealth of primary sources, including illustrations, press cuttings and personal accounts.

I could get lost in this collection for hours. Schools, reformatories, the military, judicial punishments, care homes are all covered here. There are sections on the cane, birch and tawse, richly embroidered with historical drawings, photos and accounts from the time. Like these two, showing the caning of boys in the navy:

1906 drawing of a shipboard naval caning, published in 'The Humanitarian', a campaigning journal

I was caught doing something which if I had been in the navy proper would have got me 'cells.' I was brought before the captain of the training ship and sentenced to 12 cuts of the cane. I was taken at once to the sickbay and told to strip off except for my socks and was given a pair of white duck punishment trousers. These are always worn by a boy who is to be caned. Then I was marched into the gym where the master-at-arms checked to see that I hadn't sneaked in any padding. I was told to stand to attention and the surgeon general came in with the regulating petty officer, who is always deputed to give the cuts and was carrying two long canes.

I was made to lay over the end of the gym horse and was held in position by two well-built boy ratings. The captain came in and said 'Carry on' and the RPO lifted the cane in a wide semi-circle to the back of his head and brought it down with considerable force. After each stroke the master-at-arms called out 'Cut delivered sir.' At the end of the 12 cuts I was taken to the sickbay where my injuries were inspected. The marks had already turned a mauve-blue in colour.

(A sailor recalls being caned as a boy in a naval training establishment; punishments of this kind continued into the 1960s and 1970s.)

Or these descriptions of 19th century judicial birching:

A 19th century birching table used in Scotland. This ingenious design subdues the prisoner by confining his arms through two holes cut into the table top.

The two boys were both found guilty of theft and sentenced to receive 12 strokes of the birch. The sentence was to be carried out at 1pm, after the birch had been pickled for two hours. It consisted of a number of long thin lashes tied to the end of a stick about 2 feet long. Each lash had a resemblance more to wire than wood. At the appointed time the magistrates arrived to witness the punishment and the sobbing boys were brought in. A move was made to the courtyard at the back of the gaol, a dull, bare piece of ground surrounded by high walls. In the middle of the courtyard had been placed a bench, similar to a school form.

"Now then, down with your trousers, quick!" said one of the constables Although the two culprits obeyed the command their movements were not very rapid. One of the constables quickly unbuttoned one of the fellow's braces, and his trousers were pulled down so as to leave his buttocks bare. Almost with lightning rapidity he was placed on his stomach on the form. One constable at one end held his hands with an iron grasp and the other took the wretch's legs.

The official who held the birch stepped forward both hands holding the rod, and with all his might and main commenced to administer the punishment. The boy began the most piteous howling and yelling and red marks appeared almost immediately across his buttocks. After three strokes his right buttock was like a piece of raw beef. After the sixth stroke the constable moved round to the other side of the form and administered six hefty strokes across the left buttock. The boy evinced the most unearthly yells and blood was immediately drawn. The constable took pride in the fact that the culprit would not be able to sit down for quite a time.

(eye-witness account of a juvenile birching, published in the Pall Mall Gazette in 1887)

There's dozens more; enough to satisfy any spanko appetite. Go, explore, indulge yourself. It's well worth a look.

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Tags: birch, cane, Fantasies, other pictures, Spanking art, tawse, Victoriana, Vintage


Saunas, harem girls and early Valentines spankings

Posted at 20:18 on 10 Feb 2008 by Pandora / Blake

Ouch, has it really been a fortnight since I last blogged? So much for furthering the cause of feminism with behind-the-scenes commentary!

My extracurricular activities have been even busier than usual recently. The weekend before last Mr Cameron and I went on our annual Shakespeare fest of acting, beer and music. It was tremendous fun, and for the first year we had a private room, but due to lots of late nights doing plays and drinking with our thespian friends, I'm afraid we didn't manage to fit any spanking in. We did spend a lot of time in the sauna, though - like eating very spicy food, I've always thought saunas offered a useful analogy for explaining why being spanked is fun. It starts out pleasantly warming, but over time builds up until the heat is almost unbearable. You endure it as long as you can, knowing that the longer you can last the better you'll feel afterwards. Eventually you can't take any more and you have to stop - but afterwards, the ordeal is rewarded by an invigorated feeling of glowing relaxation and energy.

While we were there it snowed on the Friday night. I was in the middle of an impromptu music session at the time, but some of my friends who were in the sauna took advantage of the weather to run outside, straight from the heat of the steamroom to frolic in the snow. Disappointingly, they didn't do more than run about a bit with towels still wrapped around themselves, letting the snowflakes melt on their arms and faces. I can understand that they didn't want shocked locals to call the police, but surely being whipped with birch switches is an essential part of the Swedish tradition?

Since returning from Elizabethan times to 21st century North London, I've been rushed off my feet, and I'm fully booked over the next couple of weeks, including another trip away. The good news for you guys is that this includes two shoots next week, both of which will hopefully result in new spanking photos to show you all! I'm looking forward to both of the shoots. One will hopefully involve lots of erotic spanking and Victorian underwear (yay!), and the other is with my old friends English Spankers.

Of course, next week also contains Valentines day, which can be one of the busiest periods of the year for us polyamorous types. I'm beginning to think that next year I might have to ignore Valentines for the sake of my sanity, but my beloveds and I do like taking the opportunity to indulge ourselves. I've spent most of the last couple of days in bed with Tom - he and I made time for our romantic celebrations a few days early, as we're both busy later in the week.

A good friend recently installed a couple of suspension points in my ceiling, but although we'd planned to make use of them, we never actually got around to it. But I did get soundly spanked several times over the course of the day; in pyjamas and out of them, over the knee, with hand, tawse, wooden paddle and thin whippy switch. I particularly enjoyed one over the knee spanking where he raised his right leg higher than normal, lifting my bottom high into the air and leaving me thorough exposed with my face buried in the pillows. I think my favourite was the paddling, though. He started slow, with a warm-up set of 12 and then another of 24, while I knelt over pillows in the middle of the bed with my pyjama bottoms around my knees. Then I got a "proper" set of 24, by the end of which I was shouting and kicking as each firm swat connected with my stinging flesh. I've discovered that a good yell is definitely the most therapeutic response to a hard thwack from a wooden paddle. It releases a lot of the overwhelming stimulation of every inch of my cheeks coming ablaze at once, allows me to process it and settle back down to wait for the next one. Cane strokes make me yelp and whimper, but I definitely find the paddle easier to endure if I let myself shout a bit.

I don't know if there are more spankings in store for me on the 14th - that's up to D, with whom I'm spending Valentines Day itself. What with shoots either side of it, if he's not in the mood my poor bottom will probably be glad of the rest! We are planning to go the Torture Garden Valentines Ball the following weekend, though, and what's the point of going to a fetish club if not to make use of the dungeon furniture?

I'll be dressing as a harem girl: low-slung, loose flowing trousers in shimmery, see-through fabric, with a matching bikini top jangling with little coins, and a veil covering my face. I don't know what my owner will have in store for me, but it could be anything from dancing for his pleasure to feeling the sting of his whip. Maybe he'll punish me for not having paid close enough attention at my bellydancing classes? I enjoy dancing, but I'm horribly self-conscious and find performing for people very difficult and humiliating - which makes for a powerful headspace in scenes. I've played a harem girl roleplay once before, and it was very memorable and intense.

I'm sure my new outfit will be put to good use on shoots as well as in private. If there any slavegirl or 'Arabian Nights' style scenarios you'd particularly like to see, let me know and I'll suggest them next time I'm filming :)

Anyway, enough of my rambling. I've got a busy few days coming up, but even so I'll try and post more regularly. I get a lot out of writing here, and I don't want to let myself get out of the habit. Self-discipline never was one of my strong points...

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Tags: acting, cane, dominance and submission, Fantasies, hand spanking, kink, making a scene, paddle, Spanking and bondage porn, switch, tawse


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