Some words about pictures

We’re all visual creatures, aren’t we? We love our spanko pictures, videos, clips. We talk about them, we share them, we collect them, and some of us get to create our own. But if you’re like me, after seeing a ton of content for more years than I care to count, you get a little jaded. Not as easily impressed. It takes more to push my buttons these days. Especially since, being the male-top-focused woman I am, I’m looking more at the men in the shots/clips than the women.

So what’s one of my buttons, kids? Men’s hands/forearms. Bonus — rolled-up sleeves, or in the process of doing so. You wanna make me weak in the knees? Don’t send me your junk. Send me your arms.

Remember this shot I took in my own living room in 2019? Still one of my personal favorites.

What is it about button-pushing pictures? If you’re like me, they take you somewhere. They ignite fantasies and/or memories. They quicken your pulse and make you catch yourself grinning like an idiot. It had been a while since I’d had that happen.

That is, until a couple of days ago when I stumbled across this.

First, I fainted.

Then, after I scraped myself off the floor, I stared. And stared some more.

Fellow bottoms, do you agree that this is perfection? The purposeful stance. The well-worn jeans. The doubled-over belt, and his strong grip on it. Knowing that just seconds ago, he unbuckled it and whipped it out of his belt loops with a loud snap. And also knowing that the next snap you hear will be that belt across your backside.

So, kids, do tell — is it possible to fall in lust with a photograph?

Of course it is.

For those of you who have been with me for a long time, bear with me, because you’ve read about this before. For my newer people, about twelve years ago, same kind of thing happened. I ran across a public photo from a kinky video company and it stopped me in my tracks. And strangely, it had absolutely nothing to do with spanking. But it touched off the part of me that is turned on by the thought of helplessness, of being overpowered by a handsome stranger. This was the picture:

And so I wrote a post about it. I had no idea who the man was. However, someone who read my blog did… and they told him.

Turned out he was local. And he contacted me on FetLife. Cue heart attack.

Most of you remember this story. For those who don’t, the short version was we met, we played, we became friends, and we even got to shoot together. Extra awesome bonus: I got to re-enact that picture with him.

This is the sort of thing the fantasy stories are made of. And I got to live it. Damn. Sometimes it doesn’t suck being me. 😀

So, if anyone happens to know who this handsome stranger with the belt is, do feel free to send him here. Hey… a girl can dream, can’t she?

In other news, I actually got my lazy cranky butt in the car and went to a lovely munch last night. We had the entire back alley behind a pub, with outdoor heaters, and we had a nice group. Got to see some old friends, and made a couple of new ones. This is a new group, run by my friend Mr. Woodland and his adorable partner, and so far, it’s gaining in popularity. Great to see some spanking scene in L.A. again!

Crap. I have to adult now and work. How tedious. Anyway, enjoy. The line for swooning forms to the left.

Rough

Warning: Some of you might not like what I describe below.

But please believe me…. I sure did.

You guys pretty much have my number by now, right? You know what kinds of scenes I like — I like to be playful, I’m sassy, I love the banter and push-pull. Overall, I am a feisty and spirited bottom.

But sometimes… I really, really like the damsel-in-distress scenario. I don’t know why. It so completely goes against my personality. But damn, it’s so hot.

I like the fear factor. It isn’t real fear… I know real fear. I’m afraid of many things. No, it’s the good kind of fear… the trepidation, the not knowing, but trusting that ultimately, you’ll be all right because you’re in the best of hands. It’s the thrill and terror of free-falling, and yet knowing someone is there to catch you. It’s knowing that he could do some terrible things to you if he wanted to… but he won’t. He’ll just make you think he will. For those moments, you believe.

I didn’t know we were going there tonight. I don’t think ST did either. It just sort of happened.

Our scene started like most others — OTK warmup, me running my mouth. When he said, “You need a good spanking, don’t you,” I snarked, “What was your first clue, Einstein?” He then whaled so hard and fast with his tawse, I squeaked, “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!!”

“Yeah, you will be,” he said, fishing around in his bag. I thought he was going for a heavier implement. Then I felt him pull my arms back behind me. Then I felt the ropes. He tied my feet, too.

“Now you don’t know WHAT kind of nasty things I’m going to do to you,” he said coolly. “And there’s nothing you can do about it, either. Is there!”

I went from smartass to shaking in a matter of seconds.

What happened after that is a blur of sensation and emotion. He used a lot of implements, I know that. Hard. But more than that, he teased me. He made me look at him. He leaned down and hissed in my ear. He tightened his fist in my hair. I was wearing a strappy sundress and he yanked the dress down past my shoulders.

He never raised his voice. I hate raised voices. But his smooth and steely tones made me tremble and put tears in my eyes.

It wasn’t the same kind of crying as last week. Last week was pure emotional release. This was… I don’t know what this was. Just feeling wound up, hyper-stimulated, beyond excited. I strained against the ropes and scrubbed my face into the bedspread, praying he wouldn’t make me scream.

While I appreciate the intensity of tears during a scene, I am self-conscious about mine. As our beloved Pixie likes to say: “Tears are hot — snot is not.” In bondage, I couldn’t wipe my face or my nose. When he leaned down to look into my face, I turned away.

“Are you trying to hide from me?” he asked. “Yes,” I murmured.

“You can’t hide from me. Maybe I should just put you in position so I can look at you,” he said, grabbing my shoulder and rolling me onto my back.



I twisted my head to look away, rolled my eyes back. No, no, don’t look at me. But I could still feel his eyes on me, his hands. Enjoying himself. Enjoying my discomfort.

Only with someone I trust so completely could I do this. He knew that. And he knew just what he could do, and what would violate me. The latter wouldn’t happen. I knew that logically. But still… when he’s in Dr. Hyde mode, he knows how to make me wonder.

Finally, he rolled me back over onto my belly and finished me off with the strap. “If I let you go, will you be a good girl?” I nodded vigorously. He untied me.

And just like that, the sweet and gentle ST reappeared.

Several minutes later, he asked how I was feeling.

“Very relaxed,” I replied. After a moment, I added, “And absolutely amazed at the places I can go with you.”

“Me too.”

I suppose I could analyze and overanalyze why I want to go to this edgy territory sometimes. But I’d rather not. I’m just grateful I have the perfect companion who goes there with me. And when I go over the edge, he’s my net.