Stocking up on BDSM

Right, that's out of the way.

I've been having an almost indescribably kinky time over the last couple of weeks. This is because I had to cancel my BDSM themed shoots in September and October, and I've got a diagnostic operation scheduled for just before Christmas (to find out why I broke so dramatically at the end of August this year). The operation means I can't schedule any shoots until the end of January, so I've been feeling as though poor Ariel and Amelia were in retirement. But I realised I had a window of opportunity before my operation and decided it'd be a great idea to stock up on BDSM experiences to get me through January. Sort of in the same way that everyone else is buying turkeys and boil-in-the-bag rice, and whatever else we buy in a great big pre-Christmas panic. Boil-in-the-bag rice? I don't know where that came from. I've never had it myself....

Lordy, this is going to be a long post, I can feel it coming on.

So, here's my schedule of shoots I've been doing, and shoots I'm hoping to do before hospital catches up with me. They've been tremendous fun so far, although sometimes rather surprising.

After the Erotica Exhibition (which was brilliant - thanks again to the people who came to see me, it made me so happy) I headed to the frozen North to http://www.chimerabondage.com/

I've worked for Chimera several times before, and have found their self-bondage concept fabulously challenging. As a bondage model, it's often easy to drift off into a happy world of one's own while being tied up - but being the rigger as well makes a lot more demands on concentration. This maybe makes it a little bit less of a sexy experience (especially for someone who really likes to fantasise about the person tying me up), but on this trip they gave me a chance to experiment with self-suspension, which I absolutely loved. Here's a quick frame-grab of my favourite one...

So, with 'suspension' ticked off my Christmas memory list, off I went to another bondage shoot, this time in the frozen South West.

And it was absolutely brilliant. I've always enjoyed dividing my time between shooting for commercial projects, and working with people who are simply producing BDSM pictures for their own entertainment. Both approaches have lots of advantages, and this shoot seemed to have all the pleasures of not shooting commercially. It was the photographer's first bondage shoot for a year, which meant he basically had 12 months worth of ideas and props to try out. He also had no particular quota of shots he needed for each set of pictures, which meant we could try really, really uncomfortable things because they only needed to be sustainable for a minute or so. Tremendous! And, not having the ruthless approach of a professional producer (which I'm entirely in sympathy with), he didn't see it as a waste of time to stop for a cup of tea and a cake every time he'd untied me. Mince pies! Duck l'orange for lunch! And the largest collection of spreader bars I'd ever seen. After ending up on my back, feeling like a large robotic insect with spreader bars attached at every possible point, I drove back home feeling as though I'd had the very best kind of day.

The very next day, I had my first proper, full-day CP shoot since August. It was one which I'd missed shooting because of being in hospital on the scheduled shoot day, and I'd spent 3 months looking forward to finally having a go at bringing the story to life. My friend P had spent that time refining his script and adding more details, so we spent the day in a gorgeous Alice-in-Wonderland world of dreams which gradually became darker and more severe as the shoot progressed.

But oh, my Goodness. I hadn't realised how quickly my body would forget how to cope with hard CP. Since I started spanking modelling, I've worked fairly regularly, and of course, I've played a lot at home too. But being ill put any harder play on hold, and since I've started to feel better I've been shooting constantly which has meant the BDM has been very careful about leaving marks on me. This shoot, however, was scheduled to allow recovery time, so there were prolonged strappings and canings in the script.

Wow! I'd forgotten what proper bruising is like! After the first 12 stroke caning, my bottom felt strangely corrugated - nothing like the slightly raised ridges I'd become used to. 'How interesting!' I thought to myself. And was rather pleased, really, to have the chance to re-capture what marks are meant to be like. A couple of (marvellous) scenes later, I was playing a maid who was being strapped instead of dismissed - for an offence she didn't commit. Totally up-my-street story-wise, I do enjoy being a martyr. And normally, stories I'm enjoying carry me along so well that I don't feel the pain too much. But not at this shoot. Deeply enjoying my character (who'd decided not to give anyone the pleasure of seeing her react to being punished), I felt confident that I could cope with the strap (it's one of mine, and I thought I remembered what it felt like).

I was entirely wrong. After about 5 strokes, I thought it must have drawn blood. As far as I know this isn't actually possible with the strap we were using, but it hurt absolutely hideously. Not that it wasn't fun (it really was, my character just had to up her game a bit), but by the end of the scene, I could feel hard bruises appearing under the skin. It's a feeling I associate with the result of a wooden paddle, not a leather strap. Still very interesting, I thought. But I started to feel a bit nervous about the final scene, which was a long caning.

Again, it was constructed to make me want to be terribly brave. I'd been caught helping stranded airmen escape an occupied war-time country, and was trying not to hand any information over until they'd had time to escape. For every 5 minutes I resisted questioning, 10 strokes of the cane would be added to my punishment.

Hoorah! I thought. I'm going to be amazingly brave! P had kindly constructed the story so that the airmen would escape, and by the time I finally gave away their hiding place, I'd earned 80 strokes of the belt, and 80 of the cane. This wasn't beyond what we'd shot in previous films, so, seeking refuge in my happiness at my imaginary compatriots' freedom, I prepared to be very, very brave and patriotic.

In the bizarre blur of pain that followed, I recall a few things. I scraped the skin off one of my elbows, gouged a deep scar in the wooden chair I was bending over with the handcuffs I was wearing, ended up on the floor a lot of times, hit myself in the eye with the same handcuffs, and screamed an awful lot. My ruthless captor, in a remarkable gesture of decency, decided that maybe I'd had enough. Like a loon, I insisted we should carry on, and so the scene ended with the highly-trained heroine politely insisting that Mr Interrogator should continue, she didn't want to interrupt his work; while Mr Beastly Interrogator heroically claimed that no, it was quite alright, he wasn't angry any more and didn't want to carry on punishing his mortal enemy after all.

Obviously, it was sensible, kind and sane for P to finish the scene at 60 strokes. Having occasionally been caned by tops who have lost all sense of proportion and reality, I appreciate his clear-sighted approach very much indeed. And from my point of view it was an absolutely fabulous day; not just because of the excellent story, but because of the chance to feel as though I was starting all over again as a spanking model. A week on, I still have fading bruises, and I feel absolutely the opposite of jaded. But it's shocking to realise how fast my body had forgotten how to deal with prolonged CP.

Honestly, this is ridiculously long post. I haven't actually finished telling you about my kink-ridden couple of weeks, which have included a wonderful two-day slave-training shoot with the BDM. So I think I'd better stop, have a rest, and post again when I've collected my thoughts a bit.

Thanks for jolly well reading, and hope you're stocking up for Christmas too!

A/a