In the second part of Lars von Trier’s epic sexploration film, Nymphomaniac, Jamie Bell’s character gives two ferocious beatings to Charlotte Gainsbourg; one with a riding crop, the second with a self made cat-o-nine-tails. She is tied down over the rolled arms of an ancient Chesterfield sofa for both punishments.
Many aspects of these scenes press buttons for me, long before we get to the actual beatings:
- The way she is sent to chose the crop with precise instructions not to buy it from a sex shop. She has to find a real business-like riding whip. I wonder of she had the same tingle of excitement and fear that I had when chosing just such a crop for Mistress Elita. I wonder if, as I did, she considered two crops, one longer and heavier-looking than the other, before choosing the harder implement.
- The precision with which he positions her over the chair; his absolute insistence that her bottom must be placed precisely as he wants it, her anticipation and her submission to him visibly building while he fusses with the details.
- The fact that he ‘runs out of time’ before he finds a position he likes and sends her away without giving her a single stroke. Aaaaahhhh! I would have been horrible to be around for a week if this were done to me.
- The preparation of the rope for the cat. How he teaches her to make a blood knot and sends her away to tie them herself. The exquisite anticipation caused by having to do this was beautifully portrayed.
- Her response to the preparations each time. Gainsbourg is superb here: she shows us fear, she shows us acceptance of what is about to happen and she shows just a hint of excitement. The scenes are not overtly sexual yet, for me at least, there is an undercurrent of suppressed sexuality in the currents between the two players.
The beatings themselves are hard: full force strokes across her naked backside, yet are realistically portrayed. I find them equally stimulating whether I imagine myself in Bell’s position or that of Gainsbourg.
One further thing that really did it for me with these scenes was the chair over which he tied her, an old, leather covered Chesterfield with rolled arms; a slightly scruffy chair yet with the beautiful patina of aged leather; a perfect chair for this scene.
All serious spankees and spankers should own a Chesterfield. It is the perfect chair. I have both spanked a submissive over a Chesterfield and been bent over one myself. The firmly padded arm feels comfortable yet offers no movement that might provide relief from the impact.The position is immediately exposing and creates a feeling of vulnerability as the bottom is raised and the skin is slightly tightened, just as in the image from the film above. As she waits for the first blow to land, I bet the unmistakable aroma of old leather, surely the single kinkiest smell in the world, will be percolating into her senses, deepening her submission and her immersion in the scene. I know it would mine.
Better Than a Bed, a B&B dungeon in central London (I know, great concept – why aren’t there more?) has a Chesterfield Chaise in the bedroom area, a glorious piece of furniture. I once pushed a beautiful, long legged submissive over the arm, and spent a moment or two admiring the curve of her bottom, enjoying her exposure to me and watching the slight movements of her breathing. I let her wait a while, sensing when she was at the perfect moment of readiness. Then I spanked her. I spanked her lightly at first but then with increasing force, smacking her bottom repeatedly and relishing the little yelp she made as each blow landed. As I switched from hand spanking to a flogger, I could sense that her clitoris was moving against the leather of the chair as her body responded to the strikes of the whip. This created new responses, pleasure mixing with the sharp sting of each blow. At the end she needed little help from me to reach a shaking, gasping orgasm.
The Mistress, for this was a three way scene of quite ludicrous kinkiness, then had me adopt the same position but, in a delicious twist, had the submissive sit in the centre of the chaise, my head on her lap, before flogging my backside hard. What a feast for the senses: the touch of a soft thigh against my cheek; the delicious smell of her fresh orgasm; her hand stroking my neck in a soothing and supremely sensual way. Every 10 seconds or so this blissful scene was interrupted by a burst of heat as the heavy flogger tore across my backside. This was all well over a year ago but I remember the sensual intensity as if it were yesterday.
So every time a see a Chesterfield sofa, chaise or armchair, whether in a shop, a friend’s sitting room or on television, I can’t avoid spending a moment or two enjoying the image that pops into my mind and the memories of the sounds, sensations and smells that come with it.