Friday, December 30, 2011

My Whipping Boy

My whipping boy is good for so many reasons. He is always respectful, polite, and charming. He brings me presents, good wine, wonderful music, and of course is always generous with my tribute. He only really expects one thing from me; that I give him a good hard whipping. It is a very reasonable expectation, and I am always quite happy to oblige.

Well, I put a lot of thought into my domination sessions and I enjoy crafting a scene that we both will most assuredly enjoy. Not just any whipping will do. It must be delivered with steadfast purpose and wild exuberance, but also with great care.  The mental build up is something that must not be neglected. It starts long before he arrives at my door.

My mind goes to the place deep inside myself where I collect snapshots of past indulgences, snippets of intense pleasure. I remember his body writhing, breaking out in a sweat. His soft moans changing to sharp gasps as the whip slices through the air. Just for fun, I make it snap and pop, with a loud crack. I enjoy the effect this has on him. He is a total whip slut, it arouses him to be under the lash. I watch his body respond and it pleases me. He pleads for a reprieve, I just laugh. I know that he is a masochist and he loves the pain I give him. He loves that I do this to him. I understand his need.

With all of that in mind, I decide to engage in a little erotic psychodrama with him. I tell him he is my prisoner and we are on a ship. He must be punished because he has not swabbed the deck to my liking. In days of old, naughty deck hands were punished with harsh hemp floggers. The hemp lashes were knotted at the ends and soaked in salty sea water. When dried, they would harden and make a vicious implement of torment.  Salty lashes tenderize raw flesh! The prisoner would be tied to the mast and flogged while all of the deck hands watched. The punishment would be so brutal, the onlookers would fall to their knees and pray that they might never suffer the same fate. My boy fell deep into the lovely land of surrender.

I showed him some mercy by whispering in his ear, how well he pleased me, how he had earned some comfort. I allowed him to worship my legs and feet. He brings me exquisite, finely crafted hosiery that is a pure pleasure to touch. I rub his face with one soft stocking, indulging his stocking fetish. I use the other one to tie his cock and balls and finish with a nice big silky bow.

Sunday, December 4, 2011


I recently read the autobiography of a very self and sex empowered woman by the name of Annie Sprinkle. I was so inspired by her tales of adventure that I decided to write this entry as a tribute to a modern day sex goddess. The book I read is titled Post Porn Modernist, My 25 Years as a Multimedia Whore. The thing that impressed  me most about this amazing woman is her belief in the raw joy of sexual expression and her determination to portray sexuality as a positive force for good.

Her career began in the seventies when she starred in and also produced her own porn movies. She hosted a salon in her New York apartment that held an assortment of workshops, film shoots, yoga classes, and parties. All kinds of artists, writers, performers and creative people as well as a wide range of eccentric sex professionals could be found there.  Annie worked as an advocate for sex workers rights and is a true sex positive feminist. She tours the country now giving workshops, classes, and performances.

She is one strong woman who continues to stand up for everyone's sexual freedom. This is why I find her an inspiration and hold her in the highest regard.