Niki Flynn: Spanking Model

by Janine Ashbless

Every so often we at Lust Bites like to venture to the wilder shores of sexual fantasy (see Kristina on Erotic Degradation for example), before scurrying back to the safety of our writing spaces.

Today I’m delighted to welcome as a guest interviewee Niki Flynn, spanking model.

An American now based in the UK, Niki works in corporal punishment (CP) films, getting spanked, paddled caned and whipped for the pleasure of her many fans. She is an "inmate" in the online "prison" Bars and Stripes. She models vanilla photos too -You can find some stunningly beautiful pictures in the gallery at her website. Her memoir, Dances With Werewolves, has now been published by Virgin Books (tiddly little review below).

And I have just spent two days looking at pictures of her bottom and muttering "Ooch!"

"I don't like BEING punished;I like having BEEN punished."

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[Janine] Hello Niki – Welcome to Lust Bites! What brought about the writing of your book, Dances With Werewolves? Did you enjoy writing it?

[Niki] I’ve been lucky enough (and exhibitionistic enough) to be able to live out my fantasies on camera and I wanted to share my story with the world. I’ve spent my life exploring the dark side of female sexuality. Tentatively expressing my desires to judgmental partners who called me a freak, testing the waters with kinky guys I met online and finally diving straight into the world of spanking movies. I want my book to reach others who have similar fantasies, but who always thought they were alone.

I had a Yahoo group at the time and several members suggested writing a memoir. (The group has since been banned by Yahoo: Thoughtcrime!) I was pretty hesitant at first and my editor had to tell me to stop writing as though my parents were reading over my shoulder. Once I let go I found the whole process incredibly liberating, if a bit scary.

[J] Bars and Stripes describes you as the "ever lovely but slightly mad inmate Niki Flynn". Is this because you’ve suggested virgin sacrifices to Great Cthulhu? Should we be worried?

[N] The only sacrifice I’d suggest would be me, though I’d have a hard time pulling off the "virgin" act. Incidentally, the "slightly mad" refers to my Bars & Stripes character: a pyromaniac who carries a teddy bear and doesn’t speak. After an amorous affair with my cellmate, a prison riot and some shock treatment from the evil Matron, I tried to murder the governor and was sent to the prison dungeon to be thrashed by the guards. Yum!

[J] Do you consider yourself a porn star, or is CP a different thing altogether?

[N] I get a kick out of calling myself a porn star, yeah. My films are "intended to arouse" just as mainstream porn films are; it’s simply a different genre.

[J] What makes you want to reach out to the vanilla community?

[N] Is anyone truly 100% vanilla? I think that most people want some variation on plain old married missionary sex for procreation. Kinky people generally know what it’s like to feel alienated because of their fantasies. I certainly did. I want my book to reach the demure housewife who feels guilty about her rape fantasies or her wish to be spanked. The simple act of owning what turns you on is empowering. I realise I’m at the more extreme end of the spectrum, but I hope my experiences will offer encouragement to others who have felt isolated by their unconventional desires.

[J] Explain to us, please, what the lure and reward of being spanked is for you.

[N] Fear is intensely erotic for me, so a lot of the appeal lies in the anticipation. The pain itself isn’t the focus; that’s really just a vehicle to get to the sense of achievement on the other side. Anxiety, exposure, vulnerability, surrender, pain, endurance, bliss… What I enjoy most is the afterglow, the tingling and exhilaration of having suffered and survived. It’s the culmination of a journey requiring absolute trust.

[J] You’ve said you’re not Bi. Does it make a difference to you whether you’re being punished by a man or a woman?

[N] Oh, definitely. I enjoy playing with women, but it doesn’t have the sinister sexual undercurrent that being topped by a man does. Even if it’s a purely non-sexual scene (like a school scenario) there’s still an erotic subtext lurking beneath the surface. The hottest thing for me about erotic fiction is the setup and anticipation. I’m not half as interested in the actual sex as I am in the predatory tango that led to it!

[J] I think a number of Lusties would agree with you on that! Outside your CP work, how would you characterise yourself? Are you naturally submissive or is this a role you take on and off?

[N] You know, I always used to say I’m not submissive at all. And in day-to-day reality I’m not. But I’ve learnt that there IS a natural submissive in me – someone who does want to give up all control. So I suppose it’s a facet of me. Certainly not a role, but not my everyday self either.

[J] How important is the roleplay in a CP situation for you? Is the pain enough, or does it have to take place within a fantasy powerplay situation?

[N] The roleplay is almost more important than the CP. In fact, sometimes pain isn’t even necessary. The headiest thing of all for me is psychological domination. For example, I’m just back from a weekend of school roleplay – a boarding school scenario where everyone was "in character" the whole time. The focus was on creating the authentic experience of being at a school where CP was a real option. Of course there WAS punishment, but it wasn’t the sole purpose of the roleplay. I loved being subject to the authority of the teachers, even when I was being good and doing my homework. I loved the structure: formal lessons, set bedtime and lights out, uniform inspections, etc. It was total immersion in fantasy powerplay; the CP was really just a bonus!

[J] For those who prefer to see a male bottom being spanked, is there a parallel industry of male sub films? How about gay spanking films?

[N] There is a parallel, but it’s a smaller market. (Actual sessions with dominatrices are probably far more popular than films.) I suspect the gay male film market is larger, but I don’t know any of the players. I know lots of vanilla girls love M/M sex scenes and lots of spanko girls – myself included – love to see M/M discipline scenes. There’s no shortage of CP slash fic, either!

[J] The main problem with hardcore CP for an outsider is that by its nature it does not look consensual – we wonder if the "victims" have been bullied, drugged, forced or trafficked into taking part, since after all these are established facts within the wider sex industry. What is your experience within the CP industry? What producers can you recommend to us that are trustworthy?

[N] I can certainly vouch for all the ones I’ve worked for. I’m sure there are disreputable companies out there, but I haven’t encountered them. It’s a much smaller industry than the mainstream sex one, so it’s very incestuous and if there’s a bad apple out there, word gets around pretty fast. In general, if a company has a large Internet presence and a big stable of "regular" girls (especially familiar names), they’re probably pretty safe. I get lots of emails from girls who want to break into the industry and don’t know where to start. Based on their limits and experience, I usually know who to recommend for a first shoot.

[J] Do you think you’ll carry on with the schoolgirl stuff indefinitely, or does it have an age limit?

[N] I can’t see ever losing my love of schoolie stuff in private roleplay, but it definitely has an age limit as far as films go! And really, I’ve had more fun playing spies and political prisoners than schoolgirls.

[J] What will you not do on film? Where are your hard boundaries? Have they changed over the years?

[N] They’ve changed in general, but my film limits haven’t. People often ask me if I’d ever consider doing mainstream porn and it surprises them when I say no. There are lots of things I’m comfortable doing in front of the camera (and indeed some are made more exciting by the camera), but actual sex is something I keep private.

[J] "No one knew where I was. Not even Cameron. I was completely at the mercy of five self-proclaimed sadists I’d only met that morning. I was outnumbered, bound and blindfolded." This particular encounter in Germany seemed to me insanely risky, and I thought you were very lucky it didn’t go badly wrong. (I will add that I’m genuinely pleased you have no damaging experiences to report in your book and I hope that continues to be the case.) Is real risk part of the thrill for you?

[N] Ouch. That’s a tough one. I take "safe" real risks, if that makes sense. I wouldn’t have gone to an abandoned factory to meet a total stranger, but I felt reasonably secure meeting a known fetish photographer and his friends. The thought of a "Hostel" scenario in the moment you quoted from in my book was strong enough to enhance my fear of the situation, but deep down I don’t think I honestly believed I was in genuine danger. If I’d got any sort of creepy vibe from anyone, I wouldn’t have gone along with it. It’s tricky to have the right balance when it comes to fear. I’m a bit reckless, sure, but I’m not self-destructive. Frankly, I think hurtling down the Autobahn afterwards was the most dangerous thing about that shoot!

[J] Do you really believe that the graphic titillating portrayal of violence against women is harmless? That it doesn’t legitimise and normalise those fantasies, or blur the boundaries between fantasy and reality?

[N] There’s a huge difference between violent criminals and fantasists. Fantasists know the difference between reality and fantasy. People who commit violent crimes have violent tendencies and they will commit violent acts with or without porn. The same argument has been made against TV violence, video games, horror movies and rock music. Putting the focus on external factors like porn shifts the burden of proof to our free expression, marginalises our sexuality and ignores the fact that the vast majority of us DON’T commit violent crimes.

It’s human nature to want to believe that violence must have a tangible cause. Eliminate the cause and you eliminate violence. But violence arises from far more complex psychological factors; they aren’t created by dirty pictures. Think about Japan, where rape fantasy porn is very popular and widely available and yet they have one of the lowest sex crime rates in the world. Think about Middle Eastern cultures where porn is strictly illegal and yet violence against women is condoned and supported by law. And where do portrayals of violence against male subs fit into the argument?

[J] I love your website/blog – could get lost in there for hours. How much time does the website, reading and answering fanmail etc take up in your day? Are you a keen techie?

[N] Oh, it takes up way too much of my time. I’m not all that technical, but I CAN type 120 wpm!

[J] Do you think kinky people are born that way, or is it result of pivotal youthful experiences, or is it something you can just drift into?

[N] Theories vary on just what "causes" a fetish or a kinky inclination. Some people have some major defining moment they can pinpoint, but others (like me) don’t. I personally feel I was born kinky and my interest was nurtured by all the horror films I saw as a kid. I learned to eroticise the dread and suspense.

[J] You seem to lead a bit of a double life. Do you think you’ll ever be able to proudly tell all your vanilla friends and relatives what you do for a living? Will CP ever be mainstream?

[N] CP is already becoming a little more mainstream with films like Secretary out there. But I doubt if any fetish will ever be accepted in the wider sense. As to telling vanilla friends and relatives – I do dream of living in a world that could accept it without judgment, but I’m realistic enough to acknowledge that it will probably never happen. For all its exposure, sex still frightens people.

[J] If you could get one thing across about yourself and/or CP to our vanilla readers, what would it be?

[N] Don’t be afraid of your fantasies and never be ashamed of them.

[J] Do you read erotic fiction?

[N] Oh yes. And you can probably guess the kind that pushes my buttons! Got any recommendations?

[J] Well, I have a strong feeling you’ll like anything by Kristina Lloyd! You’ve written erotic fiction for yourself. Tempted to get some published now you’re a famous name and have a non-fiction book under your belt?

[N] It would be fun, but I fear the guidelines on consent would throw a wrench into most of my story machinery. There are disclaimers in erotic novels saying "In real life practise safe sex", so why can’t there be a disclaimer saying "In real life only do this in consensual roleplay"? Maybe I’ll write mainstream horror instead; I can get away with a lot more that way!

[J] Coffee or tea? Cats or dogs? Cthulhu or Nyarlathotep?

[N] Tea, dogs and Nyarlathotep, definitely. Far more charismatic than Cthulhu, hot images of tentacle bondage notwithstanding.

[J] Me too. Thank you Niki! Hope it wasn’t too much like being tied down and questioned by the military police. Oh, er, right, hold on …

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Janine adds: I read Niki’s book for this interview and I have to recommend it as an absolutely fascinating read. She covers a wide range of topics: childhood influences, behind-the-scenes at the different shoots she’s been involved with (ranging from straightforward caning-the-bad-girl stuff to extremely gruelling and political films for the notorious Czech company Lupus), her relations with her fans and her own love-life. It’s an insider glimpse in to a world most of us can only speculate about, and it’s brave, funny and articulate. It also, as you may be able to guess, made me suck my teeth and shake my head sometimes. It made me re-assess my own boundaries, and think about why I set my limits in particular places. And any book that makes you think is a good thing by my reckoning.

Buy at Amazon.com : Buy at Amazon.co.uk

Niki is kindly offering a signed copy of Dances With Werewolves to one lucky winner today! So comment below for your chance to win – even if all you can say is OUCH!

xxx
Janine

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Picture credits: 1 Virgin Books. 2 www.bars-and-stripes.com 3 Steve Yates. 4&8 www.northernspanking.com 5 www.erosartist.com 6 www.nikiflynn.com 7&9 Ben Marcato.

One breath at a time

Take a deep breath: Gwen Masters, our erstwhile Lustie, is "a gifted mistress of erotic storytelling and the simple idea of boy meets girl becomes something extremely powerful in her skilled and capable hands" - as says the rave review for her new book in EroticaRevealed. (They say plenty more, but the short version is: you gotta read this stuff. You gotta.) One breath at a time has just been released and to celebrate Gwen is coming out to play with Lust Bites again... She'll be around to answer any questions you have and as usual, comment for a chance to win a copy of the book!

About the book

Kelley is a woman with a broken heart. She doesn't need another
complication in her life, and certainly not another man.
But when she stumbles across Tom, the things she thought she
didn't want are exactly what she needs. As they fall for each other and embark on a compelling journey through dominance and submission, both lovers strive to shake away their dark pasts.
But is blinding passion enough to keep them from being ripped apart?

Now read on...

‘Please.’
The paddle came down hard on my ass. I knew that was only the least of what I was going to get. I had seen the floggers, the Cat ‘O Nine Tails, the riding crop and the cane. The cane had given me a sharp moment of fear when it caressed my heated face, a gentle warning of what was to come.
‘Breathe deep,’ Tom had said. ‘Even breaths. Focus on the sensation. And don’t panic. Panic is the absence of trust. You know the words to stop me, and you trust me.’
‘Yes.’
Those words came back to me now, as I took slow and even breaths. I could stop him in an instant. How I trusted him so much in such a short period of time might always be a mystery, but the underlying reasons didn’t matter much. The trust did.
The tingle spread through my thighs.
‘Please.’
The paddle came down again, this time whistling through the air before it hit. I bit my lip hard to hold in a startled cry. It wasn’t hurting, not yet, but I knew it would soon enough. I wasn’t sure how much I could handle, but I had told Tom to make sure we found out.
I was shackled to that weight bench, right where I had wanted him to put me. In this physical position, there was nothing in the world I could do to prevent the blows. If I told him no, he would spank me harder. If I moved too much or tried to get away, he would spank me even harder than that. I was at his mercy, tied down with my legs spread on the lower bar and my arms on the upper bar.
‘Please.’
This time the blow came from the other side. I was startled by it, and instinctively moved away from the source. That was a mistake. The paddle whistled through the air and this time the smack was much harder. It echoed through the basement.
I gasped in surprise. Tom didn’t speak.
‘Please.’
This time he braced himself; I could see him out of the corner of my eye. Then I didn’t have to ask again, because each blow came down in rapid succession, a carefully orchestrated dance. With only a few seconds between each paddling, he worked my ass from top to bottom, grazing my thighs and my lower back with the paddle, and a few times hitting almost dead-center, making my pussy jump only inches below the punishing leather.
By the time he was finished, we were both breathing hard.
‘Please,’ I whispered.
Tom stood behind me in shocked silence. I could almost hear his mind working, weighing what to do, wondering how serious I really was, and if I was doing it for his benefit or for mine. I watched as he deliberately reached over my line of vision and picked up the Cat ‘O Nine Tails.
I opened my mouth to speak, but thought better of it. I had asked for this. And from the look on Tom’s face and the rock-hard arousal he wasn’t trying to hide, I knew he wanted it even more than I did.
So instead of doing what my fears told me to do, I did the exact opposite.
‘Please,’ I said again.
He didn’t give me an opportunity for second thoughts. The Cat ‘O Nine Tails came down on my ass, and this time I cried out. Each little leather strap stung like a bee.
‘Did you know,’ Tom asked conversationally, ‘the Cat ‘O Nine Tails was originally a form of punishment on naval vessels?’
I closed my eyes. Naval vessels were the farthest thing from my mind.
The whip came down again, harder this time.
‘A man was flogged by the quartermaster. The whole vessel voted on whether or not a man was to be flogged for some crime. It was necessary sometimes to keep honor among thieves.’
Tom hit me three times in rapid succession. I cried out with each blow. Tom yanked my head back by the hair. He whispered into my ear, even as he brought the whip down again.
‘Then they poured salt water over the wounds. Should I do that to you? Should I punish you for being such a naughty little cumslut?’
I was shaking in the restraints, frozen in place even if they hadn’t been there to hold me down. Panic tried to rise up within me and I banked it with the mantra in my head: Panic is the absence of trust. I trust him.
I slowly opened my fingers. I had dug my nails into my palms. My hands throbbed. So did my body. I was throbbing everywhere, and I could no longer find the line between pleasure and pain. They were one and the same.
‘Please,’ I murmured through the tears.
Tom didn’t make a sound, but he abruptly dropped the Cat ‘O Nine Tails. It
clattered on the floor. It looked so benign, so unlikely to inflict this
kind of pain. It looked just as benign as Tom usually did.
He stood beside me. His cock was so hard, I could see every vein throbbing with his heartbeat. His breathing was just as ragged as mine was.
‘Fuck me,’ I begged in a whisper.

---

the floggers, the Cat ‘O Nine Tails, the riding crop and the cane...

To win a copy of Gwen's masterful erotic romance, post a comment - and if you want to tell us your favourite spanking instrument, in books or real life, so much the better! Any questions, the lady (hmm) herself is waiting for you to hit her with them...

LADY SUN HAS RISEN: Nothing Says Springtime like Sex-Magic…

by Teresa Noelle Roberts
Then a crazy notion popped into Miryea’s head, and she went with it because talking about sex seemed far preferable to letting her mind wander even further down paths of self-doubt, or worrying about the possibility of slavers. “We’re going to be in Thelana for the Spring Equinox rites. Want to see if we can find out what their festival is like?” She felt a shimmer of excitement at the idea of being the newcomer in some insular village--inhabited, since it was her daydream, by unusually handsome, well-endowed single men as randy as the goats they herded, but a great deal cleaner. She didn’t know about Thelana, but in Yareth, it was considered especially good luck to lie with a new acquaintance on the Equinox, a particularly powerful offering to Lady Sun and the Lord of Grain. What a Spring Equinox she and Velari could have, with men lining up to entertain them!
Lady Sun Has Risen.



When you think about spring, you probably think about flowers. Brilliant green grass. Tiny chartreuse leaves unfurling on the trees. Birds on the wing. Newborn lambs gamboling in the field, if you live in an area where you see that kind of thing (or “ORDER YOUR EASTER LAMB TODAY” at the grocery store or butcher shop if you’re in a more urban area).






Easter’s bound to come to mind. For some people, it’s a solemn religious holiday, but for a lot of us, what we associate with Easter are the playful trappings: dyed eggs, bunnies, chocolates and jelly beans, baby chicks whether real or marshmallow.

You know what almost all of that imagery has in common?

Fertility. New life.

And you what leads to new life? You guessed it: sex. In the case of trees and grass and flowers, it’s rather dull sex, windborne sex or sex requiring insect interference, but face it, there’s a lot of fertility being carried on those soft spring breezes. (Or, as I’ve been known to say when my pollen allergies are especially bad, “Someone make those trees stop fucking in my air!”) And granted chocolates and jelly beans don’t have all that much to do with sex, but the chocolates, at this time of year, are shaped like those fertile rabbits, and the jelly beans look like tiny eggs, so the fertility symbolism holds.


In western European pagan traditions, May Day and Midsummer were traditionally connected with a certain amount of sexual license. That tradition, being heaps of fun, lasted long after paganism was officially supplanted by Christianity. (A Midsummer Night’s Dream got its name for a reason.) You don’t hear so much about sex magic on the Spring Equinox, though maybe because in much of western Europe, it can still be cold and nasty in mid-March.

Nothing on where I grew up, though. A village just north of my old hometown had five feet of snow dumped on it on March 1, and I’ve known it to snow in May in my old stomping grounds. Even though I’m now living in a slightly less vicious climate, spring’s still semi-mythical to me, and I’m fascinated with spring flowers, spring folklore—and of course, being me, spring’s sexual side.

Maybe that’s why, when I went to write Lady Sun Has Risen, a novella that involves springtime and sex-magic and pagan rites, I set it in a slightly warmer climate. In my imaginary Soranian Empire, it’s really spring by the vernal equinox. Lady Sun has returned to her partner the Lord of Grain, and as the goddess and god celebrate their reunion, so do mortals.

Basically by shagging anyone who’s agreeable; all rules and restrictions other than “Make sure everyone involved has fun” are set aside for the day. (Sounds better than chocolate bunnies and Easter egg hunts, doesn’t it? Maybe we should start our own religion. We can keep the chocolate bunnies—for energy!)

Miryea, a female physician, thinks her interest in sexy, infuriating half-nomad Adimir is a case of opposites attracting. Nothing serious could come of their attraction, but a fling with Adimir sounds like the perfect way to celebrate Spring Equinox.

Adimir has no problem with this plan, especially since he's already figured out Miryea's just the kind of woman he likes—a strong woman who melts for spanking and rough-and-tumble foreplay.

But the gods have a little more in mind for them than just another Equinox celebration—even if there are a few differences to overcome first.

He pulled her closer to him. “Who’s going to keep you safe from a wicked barbarian Kulchu if you go wandering off in the forest like this?”

She felt a flash of terror, then saw his smiling face, felt his free hand caress down her spine to cup her bottom. She smelled the heat of his body, slightly sweaty, yet clean, and very male, almost drowning out the earthy, green smells of spring and the bitter, sharp scent of bonestrength. She could practically taste his skin, the salt and musk of it. The only thing in real danger, she reasoned, was her common sense—and that was already a lost cause. Adimir might be imperious, arrogant, condescending—but he was also the most handsome man she’d ever seen, pure walking sex, and if he wanted to kiss her, she wasn’t going to resist.

In fact, she closed her eyes, raised her face, anticipating his lips on hers.
The kiss was all she could have imagined and more. Hot, yet sweet and mouthwatering, like the chili-laced tamarind candy she bought whenever she found it in the marketplace.

She’d been kissed before—before now, she’d have said she’d been kissed fairly competently and thoroughly--but this was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. It shot through her body, pulsing in her nipples, waking butterflies in her belly. Lighting a fire between her legs.

She couldn’t wait to find out what happened next. Would he kiss her until she was melting like butter over the fire, or would he move more quickly, reaching for her aching breasts, her moist, heavy sex? Either would have its merits, although she hoped he didn’t move too fast, leaving her trailing behind him.

What he did next, though, was nothing she could have anticipated.

He pulled his hand back and smacked her ass.

The force of the blow would have made her stagger except for his firm grip on her wrists. She squeaked, more from surprise than pain, tried to squirm away. Shocked, and drunk on sensation from the kiss, she was slow to react, her body sending mixed signals to her brain--was this pain or pleasure?

The second thwack made her knees buckle, and the third was just as forceful. By the third, though, she’d found her voice, if not the coordination to fight back effectively in any other way, and exclaimed, “Stop it!”

“That should teach you to be more sensible,” he snarled, giving her one last thwack, as if carried by momentum.

Like the spankings her grandmother had administered when she was much younger, these smacks were more loud and startling than painful.

But being spanked by a handsome beast of half-Kulchu male was a very different experience.

These swats left more than her bottom throbbing.

Her breasts, her sex, and everything in between, already sparked to life by the kiss, tingled with excitement. Her ass throbbed rhythmically, but it was far more pleasurable than painful. The rhythm of sex, in fact. She felt herself swelling, moistening.

Lady, she’d have to change her salvar at this rate! And it wasn’t even as though he’d been roughhousing with her in a flirtatious way, reverting to that stage of life where boys tormented girls to show their interest. No, the arrogant fool was acting like he was her father and she was a child who needed discipline. He’d even called her “little rabbit,” like her own father had.

And still she wanted him, even though he was treating her like a child. Was she insane?

Maybe, and certainly her self-respect wouldn’t thank her later, but for the moment, all she could think about was impressing upon him that she was no little girl to be teased and scolded and spanked, but a grown woman.

A woman with needs that he’d awakened.

A woman who’d show him what she was made of.

With a barely suppressed moan, she pressed herself against Adimir, moving like a cat in heat so he’d feel her curves, know that he hadn’t been dealing with a child. Then, she figured, once he started to show interest, she’d spurn him, salvage her pride, and make it clear that if he wanted her, he’d have to court her properly, not kiss her and smack her as if he couldn’t decide what he wanted.

Except that he was already showing interest, in the form of a hard cock jutting proudly against her.

A large cock hard and eager enough to let her know that the kiss had excited him as much as it had her, and that he hadn’t been thinking “fatherly” when he’d spanked her, any more than she’d been thinking “daughterly.”

Lady Sun Has Risen is available at Phaze Books. But if you’d like to win some hot springtime spanking and sex-magic to enliven the last weeks of winter, leave a comment below.

Did I mention that Adimir’s people’s version of the Equinox ritual involves spanking and a little dominance and submission? I tell you, we should start a religion! Chocolate bunnies and kinky sex for everyone!

(Flowers and flowering tree courtesy of FreeFoto. Cartoon spanking courtesy of SarahThorne.com.)

Got Spanking?

by Alison Tyler


Excuse me if I stumble on my words. Because today's theme tends to leave me speechless. I lower my eyes. I bite my bottom lip. I forget what I'm supposed to do or say. Which makes introducing our guest blogger that much more difficult. So I'll do my best to pull myself together here, and give a hearty welcome to Rachel Kramer Bussel: Spanking Queen.

*
I've tried to figure out why so many times, but all I can really tell you is that the mere prospect of being spanked makes me wet. Spanking is such a deliberate act; it doesn't "just happen." You have to figure out whether the person you're with would be into it; then someone has to bend over, get in position, get ready. When I'm about to be spanked, that's one of the hottest moments, knowing my spanker is watching me, staring at my ass, maybe touching it. And when, BOOM!, the blow comes slamming down against my skin, whether from a hand or paddle or belt, I just melt. I go limp, the pain and heat blazing through me and making me want more. More more more. More spanking…followed by sex. Because nothing's a bigger tease, if you ask me, than being spanked and spanked alone.

Pretty much every time I've been spanked, it's made me want to get fucked right afterward. Or during. I know that's not the case for everyone; there are spanking groups and clubs, and some people who simply want to spank and/or be spanked, without the sex. For me, they feed on each other; getting fucked makes me want to get spanked, which makes me want to…Spanking just sends my head spinning, and that's what I love about it. For people who love it as much as I do (and I know there are lots of you!), we just can't get enough, which is why I'm so thrilled that I've now edited two volumes of Naughty Spanking Stories from A to Z (and am editing Spanked right now for Cleis, so send me your spanking smut!) What impresses me so much about spanking erotica is that even though perhaps the mechanics of it may look the same, the motivations differ. The feelings differ. The physical sensations differ. The context, environment, tone, implements, all set the tone for a spanking. I write in the intro to Naughty Spanking Stories from A to Z, volume 2:

Spanking means countless things in this anthology–love, anger, sublimation, awakening, desire, fulfillment, foreplay, fun, prodding, patience, surrender, exhibitionism, demand, pride, want, lust, punishment, reward, humiliation, power, surprise, daring, learning, lessons, teasing, and goodbye. I'm thrilled by the heady mix of emotions I can feel when I take or deliver a firm spanking, and even more thrilled that these powerful, erotic stirrings, the kind that can bring tears to your eyes, a smile to your lips and a prolonged stirring to your nether parts, are so beautifully, touchingly and wonderfully represented here. These teasing troublemakers, vamps and vixens, horny housewives and husbands, mean bosses, powerful masters and mistresses, sassy spankers and adoring ass worshippers get what's coming to them and much, much more. The wilier and sneakier they are in concocting schemes to get spanked, the worse off (or, really, the better) it is when they actually get their much-needed and well-deserved smacks.

Here's a snippet from my story "Queuing Up" in Naughty Spanking Stories from A to Z, volume 2. I hope you like it, and you know where to go if you want more!

That first slap always takes me by surprise, even when I'm expecting it. There is such a vast difference between my ass laid bare, exposed to the air, but relatively intact, and the heat that brews along that most sensitive of parts after he has spanked me; from eager to seething in several brutal, beautiful seconds. Craig holds his hand tight against my skin, maintaining the warmth and the pain, making it last those few precious seconds longer. I'm lying naked across his lap, and beneath his tight jeans, his cock presses up against me, hinting, surging, wanting, but my spankings aren't about his cock, as much as I might want them to be, as hot and wet as they might get me. Sometimes I wonder if they're even about me at all; Craig comes to me with a glint in his eye, a severity of purpose and steely resolve to spank me until I flip over some immutable edge that I am in constant awe at how much our urges are in sync.

I squirm beneath him, my clit alive with the sensation of pleasure and heat as I wait for more. He raises his hand and brings it down equally as hard on my other cheek, and I smile to myself, even as my pussy clenches fiercely. His spankings are like a magic key that unlocks the secret of my desire, and even when I'm not totally in the mood, when my pussy seems to be on hiatus, when I want him to fuck me but don't really need it, a few smacks from his strong hand and I'm back on the edge, back to being willing to do absolutely anything for him to fuck me. He knows this too, can sense from the way I breathe, the way I squirm and then stay absolutely still, that I am torn between wanting more spankings and wanting his cock filling me all the way up, though that choice is up to him, as always. His hand rains down, smack after concentrated smack, so perfect in their placement that I almost forget that tonight, as we often do, we have an audience, an eager female face soaking up all that we are doing, so new to her and yet, I sense, already unfurling a special signal inside her, a need that now that she's discovered it must be attended to immediately.

*
To read more spanking-themed erotica, please check out Rachel's two awesome collections from Pretty Things Press. To buy "Got spanking?" paraphernalia, go here. Plus, one lucky commenter will win a copy of Naughty Spanking Stories from A to Z, volume 2!
XXX,
Alison

Girls as Boys: Cross Dressing the Other Way

Guest Blogger: Fiona Locke
http://fionalocke.net

‘Frank, I am very sorry to hear how badly you behaved this morning. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. I intend to punish you severely. Prepare yourself at once,’ I added, getting out the rod. He glanced at it with a look of fear, and a hot flush rose to his cheeks.

He let down his trousers and placed himself in position across the end of the sofa.

I tucked his shirt up and began to apply the rod, and as I was angry with him, I laid on the cuts smartly, raising long, red weals all over the surface of his white bottom. He wriggled, writhed, and rolled about in pain, half turning over on to his side for a moment, so that I saw the front part of his naked body. And what I saw paralysed me with astonishment.

‘Frank’ was a girl!

*

That was the scene that did it for me. Frank & I is one of the great classics of Victorian flagellant erotica. And I read a lot of such stuff. Punishment always turns me on, but in this instance it was the idea of a girl being punished as a boy, by a man who doesn’t know she’s really a girl.

Cross-dressing is a common fetish if you mean men dressing as women. Transvestites describe the joy of wearing soft feminine things, so unlike male clothes. I experience the reverse when I hide my girlish curves in boys’ clothes. It’s strangely erotic, the thick and unflattering cotton Y-fronts and boxer shorts that cover so much more than a flimsy pair of knickers. I feel surprisingly vulnerable, stripped of my feminine wiles and charms. The strict headmaster of my fantasies might take pity on a whimpering girl, but he’s not about to be lenient with a boy.

I’ve done a lot of roleplay as a boy. School canings across my taut schoolboy shorts. Formal 19^th century birchings in my Eton tailsuit. ‘Rent boy’ scenes in my Edwardian boy’s suit. (Honestly, before Tipping the Velvet, I had no idea any other girls were into dressing as boys.)

I have some modern clothes too; teen boys’ stuff fits me pretty well. I have to bind my breasts and tuck my hair up under a hat, but I’m reasonably convincing if I don’t have to talk. My boyfriend took me to a strip club in the States once and the low lights helped my disguise. One of the dancers asked if I was gay, but she didn’t suspect I was a girl! Using the gents’ loo was an especially naughty thrill, though I didn’t have the courage to use the urinal. I chickened out and went for the privacy of the stall with the locking door.

Of course, the costume I love best is the one I don’t own (yet). In the days of Nelson’s navy, common seamen were flogged, but midshipmen were bent over a cannon and caned. It’s one of my oldest and most enduring fantasies – a girl who disguises herself as a young gentleman and suffers the wrath of a zealous young lieutenant. I wrote that story, ‘Kissing the Gunner’s Daughter’, for Sex in Uniform, managing to combine three of my fetishes: caning, uniforms and cross-dressing.

I wrote another girl-disguised-as-boy story for Sex and Music called ‘The Apprentice’. And when Nexus Enthusiast commissioned Over the Knee I couldn’t resist another chance to indulge my peculiar kink, this time in a pure spanking arena. But enough teasing; here’s a taste. The narrator, Angie, always wanted to know what it’s like to be punished as a boy. In this scene she’s role-playing a schoolboy who’s got on the wrong side of a bully.

*

The cane slashed through the air and into my bottom with astonishing force and I couldn’t hold back the breathless cry of pain as my body tried to process the sensation.

The pain began to swell and crest until I thought I couldn’t bear it. I bounced on my heels, trying to will the sting away. My nails gouged into the windowsill and I gritted my teeth, reminding myself that I was a boy.

Boys don’t cry, I thought, desperately needing courage. I repeated it in my head like a mantra.

When he finally stopped, I stood up, stumbling a little.

‘Back in position,’ he ordered. ‘I’m not finished with you yet.’

With a soft moan, I resumed the position.

‘This time you can drop your trousers, boy,’ he said. ‘And your underpants.’

I gasped.

‘You heard me. You’re a cry-baby, Shepherd. And cry-babies are punished on the bare. Now take them down.’

‘But Carruthers—‘

‘Now, boy. I want to see those baby-cheeks. Drop your trousers or I’ll do it for you.’

I blushed so hard my scalp tingled. But I wasn’t about to disobey. With a mournful sigh I bent to the task, unbuckling my belt and unfastening my trousers. I held them up for a moment before letting them slip down to the floor. They puddled around my feet and I stood before him in my boy’s underpants. Putting them on earlier had felt sexy and transgressive, but now I was self-conscious. I knew Peter was thoroughly enjoying my discomfort and I hesitated only another few seconds before hooking my thumbs into the elastic and pushing the cotton underwear down my thighs.

‘Feet apart.’

I managed to shuffle my feet away from each other until they were about twelve inches apart. Then I felt the cane tapping against my backside. I winced. I knew he would use it hard. After all, he wasn’t punishing me; he was punishing a boy who had broken the schoolboy code by telling tales. No matter how much you were bullied, no matter what was done to you, you did not squeal. As always, he had set me up nicely.

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