Recommended listening: Five Foot Ten (I), from Kindred, by Passion Pit.
It’s really fun going through a new (well, “new”, it’s from like 2015, but it’s new to me ok??) album from an artist I quite enjoy! I was talking about it with a friend earlier and I mentioned that the first time I listened to these songs, they immediately felt familiar to me – not in a boring, “oh I’ve heard all this before,” kind of way, but more like… They just feel comfortable, I guess? It’s a hard feeling to describe. Anyway, I promise these won’t ALL start with mildly introspective feelings about some indie pop bands. Let’s get to the bit where I say “slut” a lot, shall we?
I mentioned in a tweet earlier that I’d been doing some self-spanking practice – oh, look, here it is now:
And honestly, massive credit to all the Dommes out there bending sluts over their knees – maybe I just have baby skin, but it really does a number on your hands! Clearly I just need more training. I also found that I couldn’t take as many spanks in a row as I thought I could, although I imagine actually being bent over the knee of a powerful woman did make quite the difference there, in my own defence. Looking over my session photos again, I have to say she certainly put some decent bruises on me! I remember it being painful, obviously, but between the novelty and excitement and nervousness of it all, coupled with the fact that, well, I kinda did ask for it (both as a paying client and general slut) – I guess my tolerance was somewhat higher. I’m also still hesitant to make too much noise here – I’m, like, reasonably confident my upstairs neighbour can’t hear the sounds of slut paddle on slut flesh, but that’s also absolutely not a conversation I wish to have with him.
…and now I’m just thinking about that session again. Not to sound too pathetic, but I feel like the sensation of being touched like that was a surprisingly high highlight for me. I remember walking in, making a little nervous conversation – and then she told me to undress. This was really happening. So I did, t-shirt and jeans going by the wayside, a brief pause so she could admire my whorish red lingerie, and then that was gone too – just me and my chastity. And, a couple of seconds later, when I remembered to get it out of my bag, Mistress’s collar, ever-present around her puppy’s neck. I just stood there and presented myself for her, watched as she circled me, checking me out like I was… what? Livestock? An art exhibit? A genuine slut, thrust before her by one of her domme peers, for her to dominate? One of those, or all of them.
And then, without so much as a word, she was checking out my chastity. Running her fingers over it, giving my balls a quick gentle squeeze (I believe she remarked on how full they looked which, was probably true. I feel like I don’t notice it much myself? Anyway.) and asking me a few questions. It was nice that she cared enough to make sure I wasn’t doing any damage with long-term chastity, I really appreciated it. But just that casual touching, mmm. She didn’t ask, and why would she need to? Consent had already clearly been established, but also – I walked in here, undressed, and proclaimed myself as a slut and slave for women right in front of her. I was practically begging to be groped.
And I remember it from later on, too, when I actually was bent over her knee. You can see it in the video (metaphorical “you” here, only three people in all the world have that video and that’s how it stays until they decide otherwise) right after she starts spanking me with my own slut paddle. She puts it aside for a moment after getting a few hits in, and runs her hand over my ass, before giving it a good slap, and a little squeeze afterwards. Then a few more, and then she runs her hand up my back, then back down to continue her work.
They’re such little things, but they all really stand out in my memory of that day. Obviously the “big” things were fantastic – it genuinely gave me a newfound interest in spanking, bondage, deepthroat, getting fucked. But those little moments, those casual touches, that feeling of being a toy for powerful women to play with – they’ll be sticking with me for a long long time. Thanks for reading – and happy International Women’s Day.