I love this image. It’s from my second one to one session with Miss S. It’s a joint effort; I took the picture on my phone and she turned it into the beautiful, soft, black and white you see here. She thought it looked like a kinky perfume advert and I can only agree.
I led her down the long flight of cold stone steps, deep into the underground bunker. I had captured my play-thing and was leading her into my lair. She knew she was in trouble.
For years, too many years, the only outlet for my kink was through hurting myself. A sub-kink developed (is that even a thing?): I found the act of making or buying implements with which to hurt myself became erotically charged in itself. It still is.
Elita is surveying the damage she’s caused. Poking and prodding, feeling the hardening flesh beneath the bruises. She’s looking magnificent as always. But who took the picture!
This rather lovely picture comes from my recent session with Miss S*. I met her through Mistress Elita but this was the first time we had played together alone. It was also her first fully submissive scene. Although I proceeded with caution, frequently checking in to ensure she was happy, the session went further than I… Read More »
Why this picture? Why now? It’s a year old after all. It is, in fact, almost exactly a year old.
The red framed mirror on the dungeon’s black wall shows us a lot, though not clearly, only partially revealing its disturbing charnel-house of pain and perversion. What stories it could tell us, this mirror; stories of sex and violence, of bondage and punishment; stories of hedonistic pleasures taken and received.
“Hey! Let’s take a picture,” she said. What followed was lots of wriggling around in front of the mirror, trying to get the angle right. We were both as high as kites, having survived horrific beatings with a dungeon-full of fearsome corporal punishment implements. Her man had been doing the beating and he hadn’t messed about. He hadn’t… Read More »
A poker room massage. A pretty girl, with strong, experienced hands, massaging my shoulders;
Having missed a Sinful Sunday or two, I wanted to participate in this one but had no pictures from my recent session. A perfect excuse to dig back into the kinky archive.
Sometimes, when we touch…. I’m isolated in a tunnel of pain, through which your touch is a first glimmer of light
This image comes from a recent visit to the Blue Door Dungeon with my most favouritist American submissive, Katie.