At the end of our hot judicial caning scene we played around taking pictures. Elita said she wanted to try a slow motion video. Elita and her man, who had been doing the caning, fiddled with the camera for a while getting it set up. Then they lined up the shot.
The crease at the bottom of the buttocks, just where it joins the top of the thighs, is an area of very soft and super-sensitive skin. He knows this, Elita’s man. He taps the cane insistently on the exact spot he intends to hit, right on that crease.
There’s a place I go when I’m beaten, a place deep inside myself, a refuge. There’s a sense of quite deliberately diving down to it early in the session. I allow my sense of where I am and who I am with to diminish, focussing only on the waves of sensation, becoming utterly absorbed in… Read More »
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 »
Looking over my shoulder from the bench I see him behind me: all pressed black trousers and white shirt; muscular; his lower body providing the strong platform from which he builds the power of his swing with the thick leather tawse. I catch his eye briefly before it smacks hard into my backside. The impact makes… Read More »
“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 »
The atmosphere helped; not a stern, humourless punishment scene or indeed any role play at all. It felt like three people letting their kinks out, playing with each other, testing limits. The fact that Elita took her beating first and took all of it; that helped too, though only in the sense that it eliminated… Read More »
A while ago, it seems like ages, I agreed with Mistress Elita that at some point between then and my June holiday her man, a serious BDSM practitioner, would appear unannounced in one of our sessions. I described the motivation for this unusual agreement here. It seemed likely that the session we had pencilled in for May at… 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.
I’ve written this before but it still holds true. It’s quite possible that my principle kink is fear and that the pain is only there to make the fear real. The pain I experience ensures that, next time I book a session, I will be that little bit more nervous, be wound that little bit tighter and… Read More »