It’s a ritual I go through. Not before every session; only those where I know I’m going to be really tested. This one for instance. I’m definitely going through my ritual of preparation for this session. It’s going to be judicial caning, taken with no warm up, delivered by a man.
I hope my head will be in the right place for this next session. It certainly bloody needs to be. How I come out of a session very much depends on how I go into it; the experience can be cathartic and life affirming if I start from the right place, or negative and self-harming if I… Read More »
The add on “romance package” seemed like an OK deal: a bottle of Prosecco, some chocolates and rose petals on the bed. I considered asking them to hold off on the rose petals, but just ticked the box marked “yes please” for the package. It worked for me because I was only going to arrive in… Read More »
This post is written by the wonderful and lovely Lilly Watson. We had a really fun session last week that was very intense for us both. The following morning we chatted on Twitter…..
By rights, this should be all about sex. After all, my last post left the newly arrived Lilly rubbing Arnica into my backside, which was tender and throbbing following an afternoon of corporal punishment from three Mistresses. Surely, you might think, this whole scene had been carefully designed as a prelude to hot sex in… Read More »
I wrote yesterday about my first visit to the Slayers Corporal Punishment party. It was quite an afternoon; sessions with each of three Mistresses and a final caning from all three of them working together. It was all co-ordinated by the wonderful Miss Hunter, with whom I had had a previous private session.
A visitor once described London as a great party you’re not invited to, full of secret, niche things down side-alleys that you’d never know about if you didn’t know someone who knows someone. On Thursday, for example, shoppers at a busy street market were walking backwards and forwards over a glass pavement, under which this… Read More »
Look into my eyes when you hurt me. Measure me with your stare.
It’s an urge – it comes on me from time to time, creeps into my mind via the door at the back and just stands there watching me. I try to ignore it and carry on with my life, deliberately looking the other way, hoping that when I eventually turn round it will be gone.… Read More »
Making bread is such a sensual pleasure. I wasn’t going to do a Sinful Sunday this weekend as I’ve got a houseful of people to cook for. Also, I decided that not to do a Sinful Sunday, to deny myself its weekly fix of reads and comments, would be a good discipline as I am… Read More »
She’s got me standing, facing her, my back pushed against the hard metal and leather of the flogging frame. Minutes earlier, facing the other way, I was being flogged and my skin is now alive with sensation. The only thing I’m wearing is a thin cord, tied tight round the base of my cock and my balls.… Read More »
I miss her. I miss the directness of her stare as she slaps my face.