Tag Archives: fetish party

Knife and punch

For the second week in a row, last Friday had some play that left me breathless, both literally and figuratively speaking.  This was some knifeplay which for me is always has been very challenging.

B is someone who, together with his partner L have turned into two very dear friends whose friendship I treasure immensely. Not only are they both deliciously hedonistic and perverted, but to sit down and speak to any of them means engaging in interesting and stimulating conversations. And oh, B is totally nutters as well, making comedy-domming into an artform while L always snaps incredible photographies.

At the party where all the ‘drama’ happened between me and Electronic Doll there was also other things going on. Such as B not believing me when I told him that the knife I gave him for B’day indeed was non-Freudian. I.E me presenting him with a knife did was not my way of saying that I wished him to do the stab-stab-stab thing or something similar. But as I said, B did not me believe me at all.

My relationship to knifes is troubled. There is a phobia, stemming from cutting myself by accident quite badly as a kid, and a control-issue that I have managed to direct in towards one single phobia. The result can be somewhat severe, which also makes it really hard for me to play with knifes, since there has been occasions when I’ve fainted due to knives being waved around. But there has also been a couple of good playtimes, as well as sadly, a bad one where someone broke my trust and then being proud over doing so…

At the first party there was first the knife and then the rough body play. And as I was lying down on the floor, my mind is still raising when he traces the blade over my body, then using the whole knife to make me even more aware of it being there. I trust this man immensely so I even if I’m jumpy and slightly antsy, I remain on the floor, trying to not breathe to fast, trying to take it all in, knowing the blade is right there in his hand, that he is moving it around, aiming it at me, flipping it, letting it dance in his hands. And he make me understand that he knows how to handle it, not just holding the knife but giving it life.  That knowledge is more frightening than the proprieties of the knife it self. And I guess this is where my fear lies, because a knife cutting vegetables in a kitchen is not the same as the knife in the hands of someone.  I hardly trust my own hands with a knife, knowing that it is likely that I will cut myself at some point. Its easy to do, no doubt about it. But then the element of someone who knows how to handle it, the knife is really out of your hands. Out of your control.

But after all of that there is still more, and that is the punching game. Now, if I would describe rough body play versus some of the other less direct, more tool in hand play like flogging, there are some distinct differences. First of all, while the sensations from slapping and flogging and the like can actually be very pleasurable,  it is not really that for me with punches. A punch is very intense, a fist in your side leaves you breathless and it is so much more likely that you will try to shield your own body. The thing is, that kind of intensity is enough on its own. It does not need to be pleasurable, because there is the fear there, the anticipation, the way that you have to poise your body, prepare, and then you react, your instinct tells you to protect your self, and you try but in the same time you don’t want it to stop.  And when B wrap a chain around his fist, stares at me, oddly smiling with eyes that pierce straight through me, I only have time to think ‘God, I must be to twisted for my own good’ before I’m so far away. He is adding pressure on to places on my chest that unexpectedly make it hard for me to breathe. I don’t know why, but I am lying on my back,  and I don’t want it to end, in the same way as I want it to stop but still don’t. That conflict, arising from the well- known self-preservation as well as the desire to still feel it, to still feel it all.

A week later and we are attending the lovely rubber-party at a friends place, some more of the action that went on you can read here. Lets just say it was one of the most debauched events this year. Latex definitely bring out something special in people.

B and L are here again, L dressed as the most beautiful rubber doll you could ever imagine and B wearing latex apron and kilt. Early on in the evening B shows me with a big grin that he brought the knife I gave him, and I by then have a feeling that it will not matter what I say, the knife will always be seen as Freudian. After some other shenanigans during the evening we start to play. And this time it is the reverse, first punch and then knife. His trademark glee in the eyes, as he holds me by the throat, tightening his grip and then simulating a movement, making it look like he is visually ripping my throat with his bare hands. And because of the pressure, the preciseness  and the speed, I don’t have much time to think, except when he slows it down, allowing me to think but only because he is building the fear up. After more rough play, I’m already a shivering heap of sensitive nerve-endings and breathing heavily. And I don’t even know how I know that the knife has come out. I don’t even know that it has not, because he leads me to believe it as. Slowly playing around with it over my body, and it feels like every nerve in my body is going to pop. I’m sitting up, this I remember, and I think the ‘knife’ came close to my face, and that is when I loose it. But as quickly as it comes, B notice it, stops and hold me, and I can control it nowadays, I can take a hold of the panic attack and return to the life relatively quickly, especially when I know that everything is safe. We sit for a while, L comes over and we talk. We talk about everything and nothing, and about how happy we are that we all know eachother, that there is a chosen family of us in this crazy town.

And I kind of don’t want to stop there. I really don’t because I know that if one falls off the horse, you should get up again, especially if you happen to like it.  And I happen to like the thought to work on my knife-phobia and get off on it. Not so much sexually, but for the adrenaline, for the rush and for the fear, that is controlled and administered by skilful hands. So instead not jumping on the horse again, I asked if we could do some more, but with me lying down, and I got what I asked for, but now he actually used the knife. Again, tracing it, simulating stabbing and cutting, mixing the speed of this and in general, again, being very frightening. I remembered breathing, most of all, kept it in the back of my head. It was only when he went for the hands, the fingers that I could not do it, with flashbacks to when I cut myself as very young. He changed the focus, and by the time he was done, I was dwelling so deep in the adrenaline subspace that I almost thought I would not return.

I did. And I still maintain, that the knife was not intended to be a Freudian slip of a gift. Somehow though, I don’t think that L and B believe me.




Snippets of the week that passed at Stockholm Pride, 2010:


She asked me how to approach people at a party like we where on. A fetish party. And I realized that after two years, I still don’t really know myself, at least not any formulaes. The way that tend to work the best is to be quite upfront and talk about what is interesting and ask people about them, like anything in real life actually.

We started talking, and after a while I asked her politely if there was anything she was looking for and if there was anything that made her particularly curious.
I must say that I like to top ‘new’ people, those who are so eager to experience, but this person turned out to be more than that. N caught my interest in more than one way and we found common grounds quite fast. The first couple of minutes of us playing a bit later was affected by slight stress from my part, being nervous and was not sticking to a original plan. But after less than 2 minutes I found the place I wanted to move towards, and away we flew. And how it flew.
She sat with her hands tied infront of her, as if she was praying.   The rush was immediate. My arms reaching around her, and we are going from being fairly new to eachother to close friends, knowing eachothers skin better as each strand of rope came closer to her.

The ropes, touching, holding, waiting, wrapping strand after strand, her breathing getting heavier, her face disappearing bit by bit as the rope first covers her mouth, then her eyes. Sensitive nerve-endings, and a no force is needed when putting the rope in her mouth, following her grasp, as one of my hands covers her mouth, and the other her mouth. And when my palm strike her skin, it is just another way of not using big gestures, but keeping it less than large, holding on to a space that we have created together. The pinwheel making her shudder, my fingernails slowly digging in to her skin.

When directing her to the floor I don’t want to get to far away from her, and as her back start to take even more beatings,  I still keep close, always a hand on her shoulder. It is close I want to be, not leaving her side.


This is a translation of a text that was written by a lovely ropepartner of mine, after our first session at a all women’s play party. She wrote this as she wanted to explain how it affected her, and after reading it, I was so touched that I asked if it was ok to publish it here,and with her permission, here it is:

…After a while at the club, my body started to itch. Rope, rope, rope. I only knew one person there who did anything with rope and who might have some rope with her so I scouted her out. V. She was happy to tie me up a bit later, and as I was waiting I continued speaking with people, but now with a different expression in my face. A special smile. Those who saw that smile, pointed out how happy I was looking.

V made me take of the horrid heels and take off the jewels before she started to unlace my corset. And there was a certain manner in the way she took a hold of me, with a firm grip placing my arms with the wrists resting against eachother behind my back. The euphoric feeling rope gives started to slip through ny whole body. Not even thinking about it, my eyes closed. Despite the music and the people around us I created a small bubble for me, the rope and V. I think it took 3 pieces of rope before the arms were in place. Unprepared I went down on my knees when she pushed me to the floor. When she had asked me what I wanted I said that I wanted my arms to be stuck, but that she could tie more if she wanted.
After she had moved me around down on the floor and letting me lean on her a couple of seconds, just enough to feel the security of another person, V bent my right leg backwards so that thigh was parallell with the calf. Three rows of rope wrapped the leg before moving on to the next leg.

My objective here was to write about the beautiful feeling of rope. But it is so hard to grasp. It crept up slowly, bit by bit, that feeling together with the ropes. I’m filled with such comfort, when ropes are handled in the right way. In the end, I was place on the floor, lying on my stomach. The only thing I could see was peoples feet. When V placed a rope at my mouth I finally parted my lips and a small ropegag was in place. After that she wrapped rope over my eyelids. Carefully, bit by bit so to make sure I was ok. I did not know if I was first, but then it felt so good. The total freedom in helplessness, captivity, without me feeling a bit helpless. Just utterly happy and soft. She played around with the ropes, moved them. I just let her do it, suprised over how my breathing changed, suprised at how pleasureable it was. I loved her way on handling the ropes.

And I’ve been thinking about the difference. I’ve been tied a lot before, but very rarely the goal has been the tying itself. Instead the goal had been about being helpless, stuck, or a part of a quite hard a mean play. But this was rope for rope’s sake. And sure, in one way I felt dominated. In one way she showed who was in charge by her way of moving me around, the way she touched me. But it was different from previous experiences with rope. It was different and I liked it. A lot.

Written by Volang, 2010.
A couple of days later, and I am tired, anxious and trying really hard to get in to partymode. But instead of socializing, I’m doing more crying and am not even being able to express my wish of being tied up and properly beaten.
But after first tying myself up and spending some time with the chosen family, I realise I got mummification tape. Very handy. So after getting a positive response from S, mummification is a go.
S start by wrapping my arms separateley, somewhat different from what I am used to, but it proves to be even more efficent in preventing movement.  People gather around as I’m twirling into the tape and I’m aware of them looking, enjoying it and starting to relax for the first time, even if my brain is still not shutting up, bombarding my senses with impressions and troubled things.
When my upperbody is wrapped, including my chest, head and nose covered, S flips me over on to the floor.
Lying down, feeling the wraps travelling down my legs, furthering immobilizing and I can’t see, cannot move and hardly speak. Immobilized and I cannot even care about how it looks like. Their eyes gazing, but they can’t reach me here, the cocoon of black plastic shielding me from the world.
Time disappears, and suddenly thoughts do too. Drifting in and out of the space,, and travelling to a place where the mind shuts up, shuts down, and it is such a precious place. And as I arrive there, I linger as long as I can.
I don’t know how long time after, but after a while I ask S to slowly cut me out. This is alway a moment of slight fear, even if I know that safety shears are used. As the black plastic leaves my body I’m reborn, an intense feeling of katharsis only intensified by the small fears of being cut.
Entering the world again, with fresh breaths drawn filling my body with slowmoving energy. Looking around, everything is like it was before, except that it is not. The couple next to me, prepping the needle scene when I first started to disappear in the black plastic, is now not prepping anymore. Both of his arms, his chest and his back is covered in needles, and I realise things like that takes some time. One look at the watch and it tells me an hour has passed. I fell asleep in the plastic, in my cocoon.
And I feel good again, born again, flying on low-intense energy, delightfully buzzing in my stomach. After sleeping an hour, wrapped in black plastic.

Happy Thanksgiving!


Happy Thanksgiving to all of you!


Tomorrow, I am making use of the American so called Black Friday. I’m going to get two dresses from House of Bias and some other lovely thing, and since the dollar is so weak + the sale is on, it’s going to feel so good. And I’ve got something very blasphemous ordered yesterday.

Essays are getting written and I don’t really have the attention span to write on two blogs in the same time.
But I would like to make a quick note of a couple of awesome experiences that I’ve had lately:

A very rewarding beginners bondage workshop with London’s own Esinem. A full day of ropetalk and tying. What not to like is there, really?!
Esinem works from the codex of ‘tie people, not parcels’. That means that it is the interaction with the involved that matters, actions and reactions. Tying people, not on armlenghts distance but being close. Expressing, with rope, the connection. Not talking about Two Knotty Boys here, but the oh so wonderful ways of connecting with ropebunny.

So, while he was learning us single and double column ties, he also spoke and showed us ways to keep the connection, keep it flowing and basically, keeping it hot and exciting. There was tricks there that suddenly fell into place, but at some points I also fell flat. Because suddenly a two column tie seemed like the toughest thing in the whole world. I react in the same way when going to a dance class. I concentrate so much on following the steps that I can’t do it at all. Very frustrating.
But as the day went on and more and more jute fluff flew around in the room I relaxed. A very nice relaxed lunch was topped with some videos with the work of Osada Steve, but also some of the work that Esinem himself has done. Here is an example of what I see is a very strong performance, using bondage in a provocative,political, thoughtful, creative and downright amazing way.

Anyhow, after some well deserved lunch we continued, and in the end of the day there was even some time to try out a chest-harness. Before that I decided to do some self-bondage and it became something really nice that I know enjoy a lot as an activity. In regards to the chest-harness I must admit that I only came halfway, but that halfway through a chestharness gave me more thoughts and insights that any other has done so far.
I can recommend the course, and if you feel that a beginners course is a bit to simple for you ( I would love to do the same again so I could frame everything better and practice with more supervision!) there is alos a intermediate course and a advanced.  It’s well worth the money, Esinem teaches very well, give you tips, insights, inspiration, and you will have a lot of fun.

A couple of days later I attended a peer-rope workshop. Which was also amazing. A sunday afternoon and evening and the hours flew by all to fast. Watched some wonderful ropework being done, including a lot of suspensions.  Did again some self-bondage, got some help with that, then had a really beautiful spiderharness done, and in the end having very fun with an amazing woman. We hid a bit, found a calm space with dimmed lightning and sat down on the floor. And this is where I keep coming back to. Those 20, 30 minutes with her. Because afterwards, my legs were shaking, I was giggly and calm in the same time. And I had been the one doing the tying. Not since this summer I had felt anything like it (yes, I miss Korrosion) and it made me love the event even more. So, if you are in London, like rope, not busy on a sunday,  check if the peer-rope is happening and go.

Last, but certainly not least. A new shining star on the club sky in London. Crimson is so fucking good. With a focus on the playspace, they must be the most well-equiped playclub in th U.K with at least two suspensionframes, numerous crosses, spankingbenches, a spitroast, bondagebed, medical play area, etc, etc. There is always space to play, but still very easy to be social and feel relaxed. All in all, it feels like a very, very big houseparty that is so kinky that it would make your jaw drop. Next one will be in february and I will be there.



Partying in Scandinavia I

This is the first part  that puts focus on what you can do if you happen to visit Sweden or Denmark as a kinkster. This interview is done with Fredsarmé, one of the organizers of a new fetishclub in the south of Sweden. Their next event takes place this weekend and they plan on having events on every third month.

For some one who has never heard about Lunds lekloft, what can you tell about it? Would you say it’s different from other kinky clubs in Sweden and in that case, how would it be different?

– Lunds Lekloft is one of the largest clubs in southern Sweden with clear focus on fetishism, kinky sex and BDSM. There are mainly three things that differentiate us from other clubs with similar focus in Sweden.

1. We are exceptionally allowing when it comes to different types of play, and provide first-class safety.
2. We allocate a great deal of efforts towards the playrooms.
3. We try to get hold of exciting and notorious shows.

How did the idea of arranging a reoccurring event come to mind?

– The idea of Lunds Lekloft was created in an increasing urge for such a party in Skåne, there were a period of almost a year when nobody had arranged anything of such kind in Skåne. MissAnderson and I felt that we hade the necessary skills and motivation to end the problem. We hade both visited most of the events in southern Sweden, so we had a clear opinion of what was missing and what could be done better. After long time of research and discussions we eventually know exactly what we wanted to create. As they say: the rest is history.

Was it difficult to find a venue that was appropriate for the event? Did you have to make any special arrangements in order to get access to the venue?

-To find an appropriate venue was actually one of the most difficult obstacles in our way, especially since we didn’t want any restrictions on play or outfit. One has to find the right interior design, the right amount of rooms, the right surroundings and location, the right venue owner and most important the right feeling. Unfortunately most venue owners were not at all very positive to give room for the activities we were interested in. It sure wasn’t easy but eventually we found a venue we both liked, and with some adaptations, design and effort it really was quiet nice.

What would your advice to any one who would like to organize a kinky party?

-Only enter this complex and demanding business if you are perfectly sure that you have what it takes, failure is not an option! Experience from entrepreneurship, event-planning, marketing, and management is not a bad thing to have. I have experience from six entrepreneurial companies and I am quiet positive: the experience has helped me a lot. One of the most usual mistakes is that the organizers create what they think is missing or what they would like having, they are not focusing enough on costumers value. We are doing this for the sake of our guest – our costumers, and nobody else.

In Sweden, every time any one set up a new event, there is always an issue with the dresscode. The question is ‘to be or not to be dressed’ or maybe even, ‘what to dress in, how to dress’. After reading on your website and reading your thorough statement on dressode and code of conduct it struck me that you really make an effort to include as well as help those who want to come to your club. How did you work the dresscode out, what was your main concerns and how do you, as club organizer, plan to enforce that dresscode?

– Our main vision of Lunds Lekloft is to be to offer a club that is as allowing as possible. Our dresscode is following that vision so that we want to allow everything, with only two exceptions. First for uniforms now used by authority in Sweden, because there are restrictions in the law for the use of those and it could be a juridical problem for both the wearer and for us. The second exception is for outfits that are not differenced enough from what you could wear on an ordinary club. We are aware that far from everyone finds fetishism attractive but we demand some kinky creativity and willingness to stand out from ordinary clubbers, because we are not an ordinary club. The fact that everyone are wearing an outfit that are reflecting kinky sexuality in some way will create a way better sensation for all guests.

After the first event what kind of feedback did you get?

– People seemed so glad that we had started Lunds Lekloft, and they wanted us to continue! We got quiet a lot of tips on how to make next event even better, and we have listened to our costumers. I can with strong confidence say that next event will be greatly better.

And finally, what is the best thing about organizing the Loft?

– No doubt the best thing about organizing Lunds Lekloft is all the positive feedback we get. The smiles on the faces of our guests are really worth all the effort!

Thank you Fredsarmé for that interview and good luck to you and MissAnderson this weekend!

The monsters are coming.

Or they came, they stood in a que for 45 minutes, had a drink, had a play,flirted, got tired, got home and some of us had an infections after standing in line to get in to the venue.
Yep, that was my Halloween. Some claim AntiChrist is a brilliant club, I don’t.

I must admit that I am in a bit of a rut. What to do when studies creep up on you from behind and you start to eat like an idiot. I would say, well. Stop eating that much, get on with studies, dress up in a latexdress and feel good about having everything that you do. Well, I don’t. Sorry world, but autumn is not my thing. I don’t do it very well at all. The latex that I have was not bought for this sized body, and something needs to be done. So I lick the last out of the jar of Nutella and maybe head down to the gym.
Or that is not a maybe, it is a must.

This weekend it will be the first when my two favorite clubs clash. And I intend to go to both.

To Club Fukk because how sexy it is, because of the people you can meet in the basement of Central Station, because sleeze and hormones is in the air, along side with laughter and endless curiosity. Because it is a playspace liberated from the boring assumptions about gender and sexual practices. Because I get off on fucking in public, because it is fun and well-organised.

To Subversion because how well organised it is. Playarea, plenty of seating, good dancefloor. And always some interesting play to look at or feels comfortable enough to have a good play. It is more purely a fetish/bdsm club with no couples room, easy to socialise and always friendly people. And it is just around the corner from where I live.
The weekend is going to be hot, and before the weekend I plan on getting out of this rot and get life going. Somehow.

And oh. This is hilarious. And I start to dribble when seeing muscles tensed like that. And laugh my head off because of the rest.

Play at Rubber Ball II: A:s second evening

The first evening? Scroll down or click here

And now, the evening after.. Preparty’s done, I’ve inspected the bruising I’ve caused and am mighty well pleased with myself, or more, my first bruising and his reaction to it. My birthday is coming up any minute now, and it feels good. To share it with the people who are here. Mostly perverted swedes who flown in to have a depraved weekend, but also J. This post will give you a review of the event it self.

Since the dungeon is busy but also shut off for those who are not playing (everyone can still browse over the fence) there is plenty of room and I want to take my time. Now I have a toybag full of goodies and baddies and a sub with massive puppy-eyes. A big part of that toybag belongs to J, and every opportunity to use is a bit like gold.

A is once again at my feet, bowing his head down. I know the best of use of fake nails, the acrylic is hard and is sort of happy to eat on skin. A on the floor with a collar and a leash. His poor nipples is blue and have to leave them alone. In the corner of my eye I see a cross that is getting available. I need time. Heck, I’m no “fix everything in a second” dom. That only happens in novels. Not in my life. And then my head understands it all. I got the space here, got the time and got someone with me. Take a deep breath, focuses and let go.

So I ask him to crawl. Ask him to crawl over to the cross, and think about what I might come to do to him. When he crawls it looks kind of.. strange. I know there is a dom in here somewhere, and she is peaking out every once in a while. But the gesture of someone crawling for me…First time for everything and then seeing him sitting and waiting patiently, that was what strike me. With full force and then, focus, strapping him tightly this time.

Start lightly with a soft flogger, getting the breathing up, continuing with a heavier suede one (my favorite), resisting the temptation to stretch after his sore nipples and enjoying the heavy feeling of the flogger, feeling energy flowing right into his back as he both moan and sometimes yell out lowpitched scream. Again, I meet that arched back and sucking every inch out of it. Between a knotted hemp flogger that stings like the devil (one of those things I really sort of twitch everytime I think about it) and his now more and more high-pitched sounds I tap with light fingers over his body, stroking the warm skin, kissing, licking. Pressing my body against his, and that thought turns me on as well. Him being there for me, willingly.

Picture & flogger courtesy of TrussedUK.

In a slower part of the play he ask about permission to speak. I grant his wish, and he tells me that this is the first time ever someone put him to a cross and flogged him like this. Ever. First it that something that make me think if I should safeword, I always try to get as much information out of a possible playpartner, but this was something that had not come to my attention. I do a  check-up, turn down the tempo and we got going again. Alternating between the heavy suede flogger and a Eco-flogger (made by recycled inner tires from bicycles, very recommended!) that gives more of a sting and a bite.
Then, another gorgeous girl enters the arena, a certain someone who A has claimed that he does not have any problem playing with. The thought attracts me, double the mean things that can be done, and I come to think about the brilliant riding crop and the very thin dressagewhip.

We alternate in between hitting his now red and warm behind. He never knows what to except from whom, since we don’t count the strokes and hits. The reaction is more than wonderful. His confusion with the double strokes, the different sensations and us teasing and beating him is almost more than enough. It turns me on as well, seeing her work her crop an getting in to the same rytm as I have.

In a way, I don’t want to stop but the heavy breath of sweet, sweet A tells me to, that and the fact that this is his first time.

Slowly taking him down,and the same ritual again. Even if I support every step of a sub, the show is not over until I say it’s over. Again, having him kneel, kiss mine and her hand and feet and then. The show is over.
He is a bit unsteady, but blissful is the better word. He and his friend walks off together, and J is waiting for me outside. We chat a bit to a friend, talk about the evening and then decide to move around a bit more. In the other room there is a very familiar song played, Stina Nordenstams voice fills me with all , and I hold on to J as he hold on to me,  and we move slowly moving around to the music, maybe one could call it dancing. I don’t care if it is. I’m here with him.

Despite a wonky club-evening, despite everything, I am at peace. Okay, I’m in between languages, on a scene that many times makes me mad as fuck, but I’m not stuck. The world can also make me mad as fuck but the world is kind of manageable. Because of the people in it.



Play at Rubber Ball I

I asked him to drop his trousers at the cross and pull up the sweater. His sweat was salty. The cross is a favourite, legs and hands apart and strapped tightly, making moves impossible, or just allowing enough movement to make the submissive realise that he or she cannot move anywhere. The first night of our play I did not use the restraints, I did not want to.

Don’t move”

It should be sufficient enough, but he is not one of those ones. He is the type I want, the only type I can consider playing with.  A struggling kind, some fire, energy and resistance.

I started off stroking, then a bite every now and then, a nail scratching, heavier strokes, going deeper. Digging my palms into muscles. Made him moan a bit. Wiggle his cute, well shaped ass. I did not have any toys with me, except from my body and his. A canvas. as cheesy as it may sound. It is a canvas, and I am a creative person with muscles and a brain. And I’m longing for colour, blushing skin and guttural sounds.

I hit his buttcheeks, alternating between a cupped and flat palm of my hand, changing in speed and changing in how heavy I let the strokes land. I hit his back.

He says he can’t take it. I don’t listen. He says that he can’t take it, I listen enough to give a warm part a stroke with my tongue. I’m so gracious. There and then, in my frame of mind, he did deserve it. He wiggled and moved around, even when he was told not to do so. Perfect…

I pressed my body against his, let him know that I removed the bolero from my upper body and that I got sweaty because of him. Painting him in colours I love.

20 minutes later, after hitting his back and ass, and also slapping the back of his thighs I’m wrapping things up. He wanted to get off the cross, begged me, without asking about permission to speak. I ignored it.

Stand there, stay still until I say you can move”

I backed away from his body on the cross, monitored his deep breaths and still heard him whimpering every now and then. With my eyes fixed I took a zip of my water, got the clothes back on, adjusted the bolero so it only partially showed off my breasts and slowly moved closer. Took my time..

I was so aware of the audience it another rush travelled like electric through my body.

This is a scene, this is a show, and I can direct in any way possible.

Step down”

He stepped down from the cross. I asked for him to thank me. He kissed my shoe and I gave him a smile.