Somehow this blog is still here. I am constantly disobeying my own instructions to myself to take it down; yet, at the end of 2017 here it is and running at eight or nine thousand page reads a month which seems like a lot for so niche a subject area! Continue reading
What do you see when you first look at this image. A young woman kneeling in virginal robes perhaps. Is she a supplicant in church?
Imagine you were a regular client of a Michelin starred restaurant. Perhaps you visit once a month, dropping a few hundred pounds on expense account meals. Would you expect the chef to spend time between your visits chatting about the food you’d eaten, the menu, what you might be looking for on your next visit? No. That wouldn’t be reasonable. For the same reason, clients need to respect the value of a sex-workers time in their pre and post session communication.
All my sessions as a submissive contain at least some element of Corporal Punishment (CP) and it is frequently the culmination, the “main event,” of the scene we play out. However, only rarely do I have a session made up exclusively of this one kink.
Just another moody monochrome of a Dom in a suit about to punish the young, lingerie wearing submissive kneeling at his feet. It’s a standard BDSM trope, found all over Twitter and Instagram. However, it always seems to me that the BDSM in these scenes is more likely to be mild spanking as a form of foreplay than a harsh punishment. The participants are surely too young and beautiful, too hot, to keep their hands off each other for longer than that.
Casting around for something to write about when I should be working, I initially rejected this week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt of Whispers. Whispering, I reasoned, is not for me.
Did you watch Dexter on Netflix? Dexter was a blood spatter analyst in the Miami Police forensics department who, as we learnt over eight seasons, moonlighted as a vigilante serial killer. When not committing murders of his own, Dexter could roll up a whole case book just by looking at how the blood had been spattered at the crime scene.
I look up as she arrives for our hotel room assignation. God, she’s lovely. She wears a swaying flowery skirt with a cardigan and I can just make out the straps of the skimpy swimsuit I asked her to wear. Her outfit is part 50’s glamour, part girl next door, part sex kitten which makes it 100% @MissLillyWatson and I’m struck by a surge of pleasure at the sight of her. She’s a bit floaty from the spa treatment and massage I arranged and her soft hug of gratitude makes me melt.
Last week I booked into a hotel room, lay on the bed and waited for an unknown Mistress. My earlier Sinful Sunday post described the unnatural stillness of the moments before and after the beating she gave me. As happens sometimes, it’s taken me a while for me to rationalise my responses to the session itself.