Posing for the cameraman

Here’s an interesting thing about the shoot yesterday: it was the first shoot where I was romantically involved with the person behind the camera.

Now, I’ve done shoots and parties with girls I was dating at the time, so I’ve experienced working with a lover. I’m perfectly capable of putting both randiness and emotions on the back burner while we both concentrate on what we’re supposed to be doing. After the shoot, the build up of tension can make for an explosive reunion in the bedroom, so acting with lovers has been wholly positive for me. (Apart from the occasions when we were too tired to speak. Which was, come to think of it, quite a few times.)

It’s subtly, but deliciously different when your boyfriend is not a fellow model, but the cameraman.

Here’s the thing: I always have to focus on what the camera is seeing. Am I in shot? Is my hair covering up my face? Is my back in a becoming arch? Am I speaking clearly? Am I managing, along with all this, to not actually look into the camera in a fourth-wall breaking manner? Forgetting about the camera is rarely an option.

Knowing that the person holding the camera is somebody I would ideally like to find me beautiful and desirable makes posing for the camera easy and, frankly, quite arousing. My audience is right here, peering in the view-finder. My audience is, hopefully, enjoying the show. It’s like being painted, but with added technology.

I liked that.

Jimmy confessed to me that it was quite hot for him as well, particularly when he was crouching by the wall to get my facial expressions as the belt came down.

I hope we’ll get to do it again.

It hurts me more

My adventures in topping have made me face an unpleasant fact about myself: I am, in fact, extremely wimpy about pain. Hand-spanking hurts my palm a lot, and it seems to start hurting unbearably before I’ve made any impression on the bottom of the spankee.

I solve this problem very easily, by picking up an implement. I have a number of lovely tools perfect for over-the-knee spanking, and I use them with gusto, but I can’t stop feeling like I’m cheating. After all, when I get spanked, I adore the feeling of a bare hand on my skin, and I don’t see why I should be denying my sub the same pleasure, just because I’m too tender-skinned.

In the end, I hope to build up hand-tolerance. Much, much more spanking seems to be necessary to get there, but that’s a sacrifice I’m quite happy to make. Oh dear, must spank more, how will I ever cope?

P.S. The fact that I now realise that hand-spanking really hurts the top, doesn’t mean I’m going to be in any way sympathetic towards anybody who’s going to complain and moan while spanking me. That’s just not how it works, sorry.

“To be gentle while the other is rough”

This photo from Male Submission Art is pretty nice in itself, but what really captivated me was the description that came with it:

I admire the self-control it takes to be a submissive lover. To be alert for instructions, to listen to what the other wants in the throes of passion, and transform it into action. To keep going, and going, or change pace at a moment’s notice. To open up and offer one’s body to something painful or uncomfortable, when there’s a conflicting instinct to curl up and protect oneself. To be gentle even while the other is being rough, and to give it hard and fast when hard and fast is called for.

The picture tells a story of deliberately chosen inequality in action. She already digs her nails into his backside with abandon, enjoying it when she feels him flinch. He still touches her only lightly, as he has not yet been told to do more. (By Ranai)

And also this sentiment stuck with me:

Sometimes in my excitement and eagerness to take all of your body, offered so deliciously and temptingly, I pinch and squeeze, aroughness born of hunger.

Never for a second allow this to fool you into thinking you have similar license. Unless I tell you I want it rough you better handle me like hand-woven silk, else you will regret it. Touch me gently or I’ll not let you touch me at all. (By dishevelleddomina)

Now, thing is, I actually do rather like being bitten and scratched right back. But the satisfaction from these momentary jolts of pleasure is nowhere near as great as from the knowledge that he might like to use a rough manoeuvre, but he can’t, because I said so.

Ha.

Crawling through hairbrushes

I’ve never been into random pain play, either as a bottom or as a top. I’ve mostly preferred for any pain to concentrate on the buttocks, with an occasional hand-tawsing or back-whipping thrown in. And OK, I’m happy to put nipple clamps on people, as long as they don’t try to reciprocate.

Then along comes Emma-Jane with her post about a challenge on “Big Brother”:

The contestants, it transpired were set the challenge of undertaking a a series of painful tasks for 3 minutes, without making a sound. One had to put his hands in a bowl of nettles, another had to search for a needle in a hay stack and another had to crawl over rows of upturned hairbrushes.

…Crawling through hairbrushes? That’s genius!

Turns out that when I’m in my top headspace, I quite like the idea of setting the sub an ordeal or a painful challenge, and I’m not particularly bothered whether the pain is concentrated on a erogenous zone, like buttocks or nipples, or whether the challenge is completely unsexy, like sending my sub on an errand barefoot across a field of freshly picked nettles.

Having discovered this, I’m casting around for things I could possibly do to hurt people.

Obviously, we have things like biting, scratching, hair-pulling and ear-twisting. I’ve been experimenting with all of these, sometimes in a nice mix. (My mental porn: the look on Jimmy’s face when I sing my nails into his ear and give it a pull.) There’s also hot wax. And, come to think of it, waxing. Mistress Matisse had a post a while ago about covering a sub’s tender bits in Listerine breath strips.

What else? Rubber bands, maybe? Hot creams?

I need to start an evil to-do list.

Crawling through hairbrushes

I’ve never been into random pain play, either as a bottom or as a top. I’ve mostly preferred for any pain to concentrate on the buttocks, with an occasional hand-tawsing or back-whipping thrown in. And OK, I’m happy to put nipple clamps on people, as long as they don’t try to reciprocate.

Then along comes Emma-Jane with her post about a challenge on “Big Brother”:

The contestants, it transpired were set the challenge of undertaking a a series of painful tasks for 3 minutes, without making a sound. One had to put his hands in a bowl of nettles, another had to search for a needle in a hay stack and another had to crawl over rows of upturned hairbrushes.

…Crawling through hairbrushes? That’s genius!

Turns out that when I’m in my top headspace, I quite like the idea of setting the sub an ordeal or a painful challenge, and I’m not particularly bothered whether the pain is concentrated on a erogenous zone, like buttocks or nipples, or whether the challenge is completely unsexy, like sending my sub on an errand barefoot across a field of freshly picked nettles.

Having discovered this, I’m casting around for things I could possibly do to hurt people.

Obviously, we have things like biting, scratching, hair-pulling and ear-twisting. I’ve been experimenting with all of these, sometimes in a nice mix. (My mental porn: the look on Jimmy’s face when I sing my nails into his ear and give it a pull.) There’s also hot wax. And, come to think of it, waxing. Mistress Matisse had a post a while ago about covering a sub’s tender bits in Listerine breath strips.

What else? Rubber bands, maybe? Hot creams?

I need to start an evil to-do list.