Posts Tagged ‘strap’
Personal illness and family turbulence have kept me from updating this blog recently, but I’ve been missing it terribly. I think of posts I want to do, but then other things get in the way and I never get to post them.
But I simply had to take the time to share this! It’s a film I did with Pandora Blake & Thomas Cameron for Dreams of Spanking. When I saw it go up (thanks, Pandora my dear!) I watched it again, and whoooooo, it is pure hotness. And I say this despite the fact that I am in it, because I’m a harsher critic of myself than anyone else could possibly be! The description on the site summarizes it perfectly:
A hard-hitting tale about the culture clash between two free-spirited young flappers rebelling against authority by drinking, dancing and smoking. Emotionally edgy and physically intense, with violent belt whippings delivered in anger, shouting, struggling and crying, ending in the two young ladies thrashed side by side.
But the girls find a way to turn the tables on their repressive guardian, indulging in an extensive girl-on-girl comforting and petting scene and soothing each other’s red and welted bottoms.
This was our first shoot of the day. I was totally into the storyline, but when Uncle Thomas threw me onto the bed and brought his belt down on my un-warmed-up bottom, it suddenly took me into really intense headspace, really feeling my character’s emotions. Even with cameras and lights and the usual distractions of making a film, this was also just a really hot scene for me.
Not one reaction is played up for drama, here — indeed, considering how much I remember it hurting, I was amazed to find I didn’t screech like a banshee! I can promise viewers that these strappings are real, and were really a struggle to make it through! (Although, as you can see from the way I jumped on Pandora at the end of the video, that’s how I like it…!)
Another great thing is that one of the people shooting this was Mr Defeu! Whether he is on-camera with me, or behind the camera, shoots are just better when he is involved!
Thank you Pandora and Tom, for giving me this wonderful memory in film form! And to those watching it — I am so glad I can share it with you!
I am sorry to have been so long absent from this blog! I’m hoping to sneak in a few days of posting before work picks up again….
I’ve been enjoying it for it’s own merits, but was doubly excited when mention of CP suddenly showed up!
The three great subjects of Beating, Bullying, and Buggery (the junior or cadet equivalent of Winston Churchill’s naval tryptych of Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash”) are familiar enough to me in their way, and I have often been closely questioned – usually by girls – about their influence on my formation. I was subjhected to a certain amount and to a certain extent to the first two of the Big Bs but not (my italics) to the third….
Indeed, I often have difficulty convincing my graduate students that I really did go off to prep school at the age of eight, from station platforms begrimed with coal dust and echoing to the mounting “whomp, whomp, woof, woof” of the pistons beginning to turn, as my own “trunk” and “trunk box” were loaded into a “luggage car.” Not only that, but that I wore corduroy shorts in all weathers, blazers with a school crest on Sundays, slept in a dormitory with open windows, began every day with a cold bath (followed by the declension of Latin irregular verbs), wolfed lumpy porridge for breakfast, attended compulsory divine service every morning and evening, and kept a diary in which – in a special code – I recorded the number of times when I was left alone with a grown-up man, who was perhaps four times my weight and five times my age, and bent over to be thrashed with a cane.
Here we have some excellent points for those who want to play, “Schoolboy at English public school” games. I know quite a few of you who will perk up at reading this!
The true essence of a dictatorship is in the fact that those who live under it must never be able to relax, must never be quite sure if they have followed the rules correctly or not. (The only rule of thumb was: whatever is not compulsory is forbidden) Thus, the ruled can always be found to be in the wrong. […] “Hitchens, take that look off your face!” Near-instant panic. I hadn’t realized I was wearing a “look.” (Face-crime!) “Hitchens, report yourself at once to the study!” “Report myself for what, sir?” “Don’t make it worse for yourself, Hitchens, you know perfectly well.” But I didn’t. And then, “Hitchens, it’s not just that you have let the whole school down. You have let yourself down.” To myself I was frantically muttering: Now what? It turned out to be some dormitory sex-game from which – though the fools in charge didn’t know it – I had in fact been excluded. But a protestation of my innocence would have been, as in any inquisition, and additional proof of guilt.
One of the joys of reading this and feeling stirred by erotic tinglings is that this is utterly guilt-free, which can’t be said for all the “real life” CP we all read about and eroticize. But Christopher Hitchens was not horribly traumatized by this, and ended up not having entirely negative feelings on the matter –
And yet it still wasn’t facism, and the men and women who ran this bizarre microcosm were dedicated in their own weird way.
I think I wish I had not been introduced so early to the connection between obscure sexual excitement and the infliction – or the reception – of pain.
So I think we can all safely build some fantasies on this one! And, from what I have gotten to know about him from reading his works, I have to say I think ol’ Hitch would actually be amused, if not grinningly pleased, that people were basing fantasies on his school years! Indeed, that last sentence makes me wonder if perhaps he was not, to some extent, one of us…!
Mr Defeu has made my day — and, heh heh, my year, by insisting I get dressed in a schoolgirl uniform today, and then having a hot, intense scene with me!
Once I had gotten dressed in a navy pinafore, blazer, white shirt, striped tie, and navy regulation knickers and navy over-the-knee socks, hair up in a high ponytail, Mr Defeu was ready for me, and he dragged me (pretending to be unwilling, as usual!) to the bedroom.
Once there, we just naturally fell into a really fun roleplay interaction in which he was trying to get me to admit that I needed some long-overdue discipline, and I was trying to legalistically argue my way out of what was coming to me. Now, since Mr Defeu is way, way better at the whole legalistic reasoning thing than me, I was guaranteed to argue my way into a corner — and into more trouble! There was no way that I could “win” — and that was a win in my view!
After we’d bandied words to our mutual delight for a while, he decided my talking back needing something done about it, So he grabbed a huge mean tawse and ordered me to grab my ankles. Whooops! I’d not intended to argue myself into that corner! I yelped loudly for all six burning thwacks!
Then he straightened me up and started again. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sudden intense pain, but I didn’t want to give up the fight too easily, so I sassed him a bit more. This led to him pulling over the punishment stool, bending me over it, and giving me a serious six from a cane.
Yeeeowch! This time when I lifted me back up (not letting me lower my skirt), I was feeling a good deal more contrite!
I admitted, finally, that I was well overdue some discipline. He gave me a hug while I composed myself … but I could tell that his main focus was looking at my regulation-knicker-clad-bottom in the mirror on the wall….
Finally he said, “Well, I think it’s time you got over my knee, girl,” and he pushed me over and started in for a long and very hard spanking. I was shocked at how much it hurt — this was not a spanking I mostly enjoyed, with a few sharp swats giving it piquancy. No, this was one where I honestly yelped, squirmed, and couldn’t catch my breath and get on top of the sensations.
And, to be honest, when it’s all said and done, those are really the spankings I like best. (But don’t tell anyone! Especially not Mr Defeu!)
There was going to be no orgasming from this spanking. I was more happy to make it out the other side alive!
After it was over, he then gravely informed me that it was time for a caning. (The first caning of course did not count, as I was not properly subdued and submitting at the time!) I took a deep breath and let him arrange me over the side of the bed, truly apprehensive.
It was an ordeal. A brilliant, wonderful, really hot ordeal, in retrospect , but at the time I was going through it, it was just waves of pain. I managed to take some strokes without a sound, which I was very proud of, but I think the other strokes, where I yipped and kicked and bounced probably lost me any points I’d gained.
Finally it was over (and the minute it is over, some really masochistic part of my brain says, “Oh! Is it really over already? Why can’t it go on?!” but I try very hard not to let that be in my “out-loud voice”!) and he was lubing his cock up, and then pulling the gusset of my knickers aside, to push himself inside me.
I’ve said before (and will say again) that this is my favourite sexual “position”: bent over something, fully dressed in uniform, with just the crotch of my panties pulled aside and my legs together modestly, being roughly taken from behind. I can enjoy the variety of other ways of doing sex … but this is the bestest of them all, and the one of which I can never get enough!
Some wondrous time later, he pulled out and made me finish him with my mouth, which just felt right and proper, after all my mouthing off….
And then, both sated and very pleased with life, we deeply enjoyed the post-scene snuggle.
Bruises, as you may remember from posts past, are not something either he nor I want. Well, at least not long term — but when a scene is over I hate when it hurt terribly and I suffered horribly — and then there’s not a mark to prove it all! However, I really would like those weals and bruises gone by the next day … because Mr Defeu prefers a “fresh canvas” to do his art upon — and I want whatever will inspire him to greater artistic heights!
Today our play was extremely
painful intense, but the marks right after play really don’t prove that — much to my frustration! I’ve been yelping every time I sit down, but it really doesn’t look like he strapped, caned, spanked, and caned me again!
I just had the brainstorm of actually searching for some products which help fade bruises faster. (Beyond just the simple arnica cream, which I’ve really never noticed to do a darned thing.) I’ve found some promising creams to test!
Help fade away bruises – faster. Fast dramatic results! You don’t have to live with embarrassing, bruised and discolored skin any longer – thanks to Vita-K Solution. Vita-K Solution Super Vitamin K with Arnica For Bruises combines Arnica – used by surgeons and dermatologists to reduce post-operative bruising and swelling and Super Vita-K – patented and clinically tested to help fade away the appearance of bruises, discolored skin, and other unsightly skin conditions. These two exceptional ingredients, blended in a rich cream formula, penetrate deep into the skin and begin to work immediately to promote the healing process and help bring back natural skin tones. Enhanced with Arnica and Super Vita-K for fast results! Arnica helps promote the healing of skin tissue.
With Clinicians Complex Bruise Cream, you need not worry about bruises. Clinicians Complex Bruise Cream helps in removing scars and bruises and making the skin smooth and radiant. This particular cream contains potent ingredients like Arnica oil, Emu oil, vitamin and green tea extract that are known for their cleansing properties and do not have any side effect.
- Removes bruises
- Formulated with Arnica and Emu oils
- Has cleansing properties
Clinicians Complex Bruise Cream helps improve and even accelerate skin’s natural healing process.
Donell K-Derm Cream utilizes topical vitamin K to help heal bruises, purpura, spider veins and small broken capillaries. It is specially formulated to infuse deeply within the skin to boost the body’s healing processes.
- Specially formulated to infuse deeply for maximum results
- Effective against spider veins, rosacea and under-eye circles
- Topical vitamin K helps heal bruises and purpura
- Hydrates and moistens the skin
Of course, my current “go to” rub for the bottom is Bath & Body Works True Blue Spa “Too Shea” 100% Shea Butter. Shea butter aids cell regeneration and capillary circulation and it melts on contact and is readily absorbed into the skin. (It also feels very luxurious when you rub it in. That is not completely irrelevant!) It might not aid the removal of bruising the way Vitamin K seems to do, but I think it will help prevent “leather butt” for those who play frequently. And it has other things to recommend it, as this excerpt from National Geographic shows:
Shea butter is ideal for the topical application of cosmetic and medicinal formulas.
The healing qualities of Shea butter are due to the presence of several fatty acids and plant sterols, namely oleic, stearic, palmitic and linolenic acids. These oil-soluble components are nonsaponifiable, meaning they do not undergo saponification, or convert to soap, when introduced to an alkali. Shea butter possesses a significantly greater nonsaponifiable fraction than most other nut oils and fats, which lends the substance greater healing potential for the skin.
Shea butter contains several derivatives of cinnamic acid, a compound common to cinnamon and balsam trees. In the May 2010 issue of the “Journal of Oleo Science,” Toshihiro Akihisa and fellow researchers published the results of a study that investigated the effects of four triterpene acids and four triterpene cinnamates isolated from Shea butter on tissue swelling in mouse skin. The scientists reported that Shea butter not only demonstrated anti-inflammatory benefits, but one compound, lupeol cinnamate, also prevented tumor development in a carcinogenesis test, a procedure in which cancer cells are literally “grown” in a culture dish.
I’m crazy busy this week, but wanted to steal a moment to write about Sunday’s scene. (Which means: enjoy this post – it might be the only one you get from me this week!)
Mr Defeu and I mostly did normal vanilla couple stuff this weekend (errands, going out to brunch, him rebuilding my hard-drive on my lap-top while I cleaned the kitchen, snuggling whilst we watched an Inspector Morse – that sort of thing!) but as Sunday afternoon started to become Sunday evening, he said, “Well, girl, I think you need a spanking.”
I pretended that I thought that wasn’t such a great idea.
Eventually, he grabbed my arm and dragged me to the bedroom. I wasn’t really fighting or protesting or anything, just trying to hold myself in check from actually running into the room first, bending over the bed, and wiggling my ass invitingly at him.
He got comfortable on the bed, and it was suggested that I go find an outfit that would please him.
Off I went on my little mission (which I didn’t really have any choice about choosing to accept!) and came back in a grey striped shirt under grey sweater-vest, grey pleated skirt, white knee socks … and navy blue gym knickers. (We don’t seem to have any grey ones! How did we get in this strait?! Something must be done about this!)
Mr Defeu liked the outfit. He let me know this with both verbal and, erm, vascular compliments. He sat up on the bed, pulled me towards him, and let his hands run over me. I closed my eyes and let the rush of arousal overwhelm me. He has always had this effect on me – just the merest hint that we might do something kinky can get my body started up with physical responses that are well outside my control. (It amazes me, sometimes, if he growls something at me in that gruff sexy way, or even just looks at me a certain way, I can observe the immediate effects on my body. Even if I think I’m not so in the mood as all that, my body will instantly belie that!) Anyway, so there we were: him enjoying things from his toppy point of view, me feeling high as a kite on anticipation and submissive head-space.
He started by pulling me over his lap for a seriously hard spanking – if this was a “warm up,” then I was the Queen of England! – which is of course how we both like it best.
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I haven’t written about the dynamics about domination and submission for a long time on this blog. The reason being that Mr Defeu and I had needed to stop being 24/7 Master and slave when we went through some relationship issues a couple years ago. It was the most healthy decision we could make at the time, but it deeply hurt both of us to have to do it. We both want to get back to the correct balance of power (for us) as soon as we can — but we have to be careful to build up to it carefully and correctly (which we patently didn’t do the first time around!).
This past weekend, we took a step closer to that strongly-desired goal.
It was Sunday morning, and I woke up feeling generally upset. Well, specifically upset, on a him-and-me issue. I was supposed to join Mr Defeu in bed (due to insomnia issues, I’ve been sleeping in the loft bed in another room) as I do most weekend mornings (I miss sleeping with him, so I like to get in snuggles when we go to bed, and snuggles when we get up, which are the high points of sleeping with someone, anyway!). I joined him, but he could tell I was upset, and he held me while I composed my thoughts. I started telling him about them, and he suddenly stopped me.
“I want to try something,” he said, “I want to cane you, and have sex, before we have this discussion.”
Well, that stopped me dead in my tracks — I was not expecting that! Mr Defeu explained that he thought our discussion of the issues would go better after we had emotionally and physically connected.
Now, I was really not in the mood for sex, and really not in the mood for pain. If this had been earlier in my life, I would have flat-out said no. But I thought about what Mr Defeu had suggested, and it actually made a good deal of sense. We would be more in tune with each other after that, and thus more able to make it through the discussion in an entirely beneficial manner. It would undoubtedly work on all sorts of psychological levels for both of us. It was absolutely the right thing to do.
“But!” part of me whined, “I’m not in the mooooood! I don’t wanna!”
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