It's all over now...

Bethanny Anne Lough (Jessica Meyers) March 19, 1982 - October 2, 2009.

Rest in peace, sweet Beth. Our thoughts goes to your friend Jesse who will now have to go on living without you until the day you are reunited.

Update: Beth's heart has stopped and her condition is critical

Yes, I realize that you want to read about other things and that that's why you came here. Forgive me but I simply cannot think of anything else but Beth right now. I know it may feel a bit strange to pray for the life of somebody you never met or don't know. No, I have never met Beth, either. We only know each other through Facebook. The latest reports from more than three hours ago says she is supported by a breathing machine and her heart has stopped twice. So please concentrate all your thoughts and prayers on her recovery. I am praying for good news soon.

My blog will get back to normal very soon but right now I ask you to join me in focusing on Beth's recovery. Let's make a miracle happen.

Pray for Beth - she needs it right now!

One of my Facebok friends, the lovely Beth Lough, is at the moment in hospital in a critical condition after a serious car accident. According to her FB page it's updated by a friend who gives us updates on Beth's condition. Please join me in focusing all of your energy, positive thoughts and prayers on her recovery so she can come home to her loved ones very soon. Faith can work miracles. Thank you all.

What’s the point of punishing a masochist?

Something which is always up for discussion is how a d/s relationship should be. Some of us are relying on written slave contracts which of course may add some extra excitement to the relationship. Others just go along more freely and develop their relationship as they go along. But is it really necessary that a ‘punishment’ should be a negative experience for the sub/slave? If I get a kick out of being whipped, would a proper punishment be just to deprive me of the kiss of the whip? I get the distinct feeling that many are trying to live up to what a relationship between slave and Master should be, based on various books and writings. Just like somebody into religion will try to find the truth in the Bible or in the Koran instead of going into themselves and see what works for them personally. I mean, we all have God/the Power/the Energy or whatever you call it within us, haven’t we?

In our relationship both me and my Master get a kick out of playing and living out our fantasies and it adds such immense enjoyment to our sex life that I can hardly describe it. True, it happens that Master gives me explicit orders not to come for a long time. The strategy is to keep me in a constant state of arousal without being allowed to climax. But the effect of this will be that I will get even more aroused in the process and when I am finally allowed to unleash all the passions and lust which have been building up with in me, my orgasms will be so much more intense and I can keep on climaxing again and again until I feel I’m about to pass out. Master’s strategy of denying me to climax is a means to an end and not actually a pounsihment for making me suffer. The same goes for hard whippings and canings. Yes, it hurts like hell. But in the process an uncontrollable heat will build up within me as my endorphine level is rising, a heat which takes over my body and my mind. It simply gives me an enormous kick, new energy and happiness. Many of you have been there, my friends. You know perfectly well what subspace is all about, when you drift onto the higher level and feel so good you can hardly understand it. I suppose the same thing can be achieved by drugs (it must - why would otherwise so many use them and burn their brains out in the process?).

For me and Master our relationship, our playing and our fantasies is a source of energy and happiness. It’s like opening the door to the other side, to a new wonderful world. In contrast to drugs this has no negative side effects as long as you do play it safe – and that’s where I realize that it could go wrong for many. I cannot stress enough how important it is to read each other, to learn how to feel your partner and her/his reactions.What do you think? What is bdsm and d/s to you? Is it a roleplay according to some determined rules or doy you live it the way me and Master do? Must a punishment be a negative experience for the slave? It will be interesting to hear your thoughts on this. Take care and play safe, tina

Smile - and the world smiles with you!

It's a great sunny day here in Stockholm and I really feel inspired. How about you? Sure we have all have work and other things hanging over us. Yet everything feels so much easier when you have your dreams and fantasies with you all the time and are looking forward to something nice. Something exciting. Yes, you can fill every day with exciting moments and the most tedious of tasks will all of a sudden become a piece of cake. Everything gets easier if you look upon it with a positive attitude. Yes, my sinful lusty dreams will take me smiling through what would otherwise have been a very boring day.

I hope your day will be a good one, too. Just think of something nice. As you have come here I can well imagine what you'd like to dream about :-) Do it! If your dreams are really vivid and accompanied by a burning desire they will become reality. Who will you meet today? Smile at him/her. Give fate a chance. Your love may be just a smile away.

hugs, tina

Some thoughts on d/s relationships

One of my Facebook friends, the lovely Miss Kelsie of San Francisco, California has been kind enough to share her thoughts on d/s relationships. Thank you, Miss Kelsie. And naturally all your comments on this are welcome. The following text is by Miss Kelsie.

I am a Domme, but have been a sub in the past. I know what is like to choose to submit to another woman, as well as what it is like to provide another woman with the discipline and direction she desires.

Domination and submission provide exciting play for many of us. But what sometimes get lost in the play are the ideas that should guide the interactions between the Domme and her sub.

To the sub, the discipline required by her Domme should be a source of comfort, confidence, and strength. You may have had a bad day at work. Perhaps others are not being nice to you. But a sub can always point to the tasks she has carried out for her Domme with pride. “Today was horrible at work, but at least I was able to succeed in serving my Mistress.” By carrying out her mistresses orders (no matter how demeaning those orders might sound to others), a sub is building her confidence that she really can do something right.

Some subs are powerful executives who choose to submit as a stress relief and because they feel the calling. Other subs wander as they look to make their way in life. By choosing to submit and giving the Domme control over part of her life, a sub is freeing herself up to do better job in the rest of her world with her school, work, and friends. Her need for solidity, discipline, and achievement will be met by successfully carrying out her Dom’s instructions. Given this solidity, the subs will be better able to deal with the uncertainties and difficulties she will face in the rest of their lives.

Some think of the Domme as being mean to the sub. That is far from the truth. The best Dommes care for their subs and want them to be happy and lead successful lives. Dommes provide their subs with discipline and order. It is true that many of the demands Dommes make upon their sub will be embarrassing, humiliating, or painful. But the point is not that the Domme is doing mean things to the sub. The point is that the sub is choosing to submit to someone she respects and who she thinks can provide her with the guidance and discipline that will make the rest of her life better.

I believe domination and submission works better in the electronic world than in the physical world. In the physical world nothing is ever perfect. Like watching a movie made from a book you loved, physical domination doesn’t turn out to be exactly what you had pictured it being in your mind.

Online, your Domme and your sub are exactly what you want them to be. The play becomes ideal. If you are the Domme you imagine your instructions being followed in the manner which gives you the most pleasure. If you are a sub you imagine the perfect Domme guiding your actions. No real world Domme or subs could ever live up the ideals in people’s minds.

For this reason, I do not confuse the physical and online worlds. I do no physical meets, no webcams, and no phone calls. Doing these confuses the purity available online with the less perfect reality of the physical world.

Also, the Domme should remain a mystery to her subs. Familiarity breeds contempt. Both the Domme role and the sub role should be valued and respected, but they are different. It is perfectly reasonable for the Domme to demand intimate details of the sub’s life. The Domme requires this knowledge to fine tune her orders to her sub. But it is highly inappropriate for the sub to request the same of her Dom. If she does so she will begin to see the Domme as her pal, rather than as someone who rightly can and should provide the sub with the discipline she craves in her life.

The relationship between a sub and her Domme is a private one. There will be no sharing with others on facebook or elsewhere what happens between the two. This intimate relationship is for their pleasure, not the world’s entertainment.
Miss Kelsey

Golden showers

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Punishment or pleasure?

Isn't it marvellous how an instrument which is intended for correction and that acts destined to punish us miserable sinners can be such enormous sources of profound happiness and joy? Every time after a severe trashing or a good otk spanking I am simply crazy with lust and it's like floating on waves of pleasure. I experienced smething similar one time when I was given morphine when in the hospital. It was a feeling such as I wanted to embrace the whole world, I was constantly smiling and enjoying life and felt only positive vibrations. Well, you don't need morphine or other addictive substances to experience that. A paddle, cane or a birch will do the trick nicely.

This is going to be a great day. Do enjoy it to the fullest. I certainly will.

Give me a strong, muscular, athletic woman

Since I first laid my eyes on the photos of a new friend on Facebook I simply cannot think about anything else but how wonderful it would be to be her slaveslut, being whipped and punished for her enjoyment… an extremely powerful woman which will not tolerate any signs of disobedience from me. God how I crave to be under her cruel lash! She is extremely muscular, fit and simply gorgeous, a professional Dominatrix and a former champion in various sports. Also, she is a bodybuilder.

Yes, being in the hands of this woman would be a happiness such as I can hardly describe. Naturally, I have told my Master about my fantasies and he appreciates the fact that it makes me so extremely horny and lusty ;-) I would like to show you some pics of this gorgeous woman but since she has not yet approved I cannot do so. Meanwhile, hope you like this pic. Sadly I never got to meet a woman like my Facebook friend when I was a teenage girl but I am just as ready for her now. I am sure that Master will love to see me punished by a strong woman and the thought is etched in my mind. I have been masturbating like crazy the past days, constantly dreaming about her and her heavy bullwhip. Yes, she occupies my mind to such a degree that it may well be an affirmation and who knows what will happen then?

Take care and do leave a comment while you are here. I am very anxious to know what you like to read about. True, a blog is a form of diary but if I wanted to write just for myself there would be no point in publishing my thoughts this way? So please let me know. *hugs* tina

Please whip me real hard!!!

God, I feel so hot now! Yes, I'm horny and wet and I just can't stop visualizing. Please note that I don't say fantasizing but visualizing. That's a big difference! Many of us have fantasies but when it's just about mental pictures without really feeling it, experiencing it, desiring it... then it'll stop at just that. A fantasy, just like watching a film or reading a book and then it's back to reality. But what starts as a dream or a fantasy and is fuelled by an ever increasing desire and lust will become reality in the long run! You don't believe me? Well, try it for yourself. There are many books about affirmations around and basically they all tell the same thing: visualize something, desire it - and it will become reality. That goes for masochistic sex dreams as well as more tangible assets like money or whatever you may want.

I have realized that all the time. It's just that for a time I lost my focus. But now everything feels great and I feel the lust and desire building up within me more and more every second... mmm I will have to experience real life pain now before I go insane. And I will experience it!

Somebody might have wondered what happened to the story 'Tina in Saudi Arabia'. Well, I will continue writing on it now. Blame it on procrastination - something which I have just abolished from my mind. Do the story mean that I really want to experience it all in detail as described? Have I booked a ticket for Riyadh and packed down my hooker outfit? Well, the truth is that so many of my fantasies have already become reality and they have all taken me to heights I could never have imagined. Yes, I enjoy pain and humiliation and it fuels my lust as nothing else. As long as it's a lustful experience and does no serious harm it's positive, I think. What do you think? And what are you visaulizing right now? Do you want your dream to come true? As for Saudi Arabia we'll see what happens...

The Facebook Hypocracy

I just learnt that my old Facebook account 'Tinaslut Sweden' is still there although deactivated which means I cannot log in but all my friends can see the content. But I can't add or remove postings, comments or add new friends.

As this account contained a lot of pics in the style you find in my blog I suppose that it was the hardcore material that made Facebook deactivate my account. But if they do find my material so offensive why on earth don't they remove it all instead of leaving all my dirty pics there for everybody to see? Shall I tell you why?

Advertising money! They realize fully well that this sort of material will attract visitors and so they allow access to it also after I as the owner of the account has been blocked. Visitors will keep on viewing my material and clicking on ad banners long after I'm gone. It should be noted that I was allowed to keep on uploading 'offensive' pics and texts for a long while before I was thrown out. Why is that, do you think? It's pretty obvious: to build up a big library of offensive material for the visitors to drool over. This way they will keep coming back and my pics will keep on help giving exposure to Facebook ads. This is one of the worst hypocracies I have ever seen.

Of course you don't need Facebook to view my pics and texts. You can go directly to my blog. You can be sure that in the future I will not give them any free content in order to later have my account deactivated.

I hereby declare the law of procrastination obsolete

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The Power Of the Crop

It's so wonderful when I feel my entire body being filled with energy... the power running through every nerve, making me stronger... each time I feel the stinging riding crop smacking real hard into my flesh I gasp from lust and pain and beg for another one, harder please... and then another... the pain spreads like a wonderful heat through my body and make me healed, content... and, yes, horny... ;-) please don't stop...

Erica in the hands of The Inquisition

Here's to you, Erica. I hope you will enjoy it.

It could have been just because she needed a rest from the sunny hot weather outside that Erica ended up in the museum. Actually she had never been there before. Yet she soon realized that she had come there for a purpose. Yes, she was destined to discover that very special painting which was displayed in one of the smaller rooms dedicated to more obscure artists.It was a huge colour painting done in a style which reminded Erica of the wellknown Dutch masters like Rembrandt and others. Not only were every detail extremely realistic but ther was a certain luster over the painting which created a very special athmosphere. The name of the artist meant nothing to her but she was mesmerized by the scene depicted. It was the interior of a torture chamber with many sinister looking devices and several men dressed in brown robes, brandishing whips. Another man was sitting behind a desk, taking notes. Everybody seemed to be waiting for something. Suddenly Erica realized what was missing in the painting. The victim of the Inquisition. Everything was ready to go but for some reason the artist had chosen to let the spectators’ fantasy visualize what would later happen as their helpless victim would be dragged into this chamber of horror to be made to confess anything the cruel men wanted to. Erica was so attracted by the scene that she didn’t realize how time was flying away and when suddenly a male voice alerted her that it was closing time she knew she couldn’t leave. She slowly walked towards the exit with the sound of her high heels echoing between the stone walls. As the guard disappeared around the corner into another room she opened the entrance door and then shut it loudly, then swiftly took off her shoes and went tiptoeing back towards the room with that very special painting. She looked for a place to hide and as luck would have it she found an open door to a small stockroom. Erica quickly slid in and hid behind a big cupboard. She waited in awe hardly daring to breathe. Suddenly the door slammed tight and a key turned in the lock.

Fortunately the door could be opened from inside which Erica had noticed when she jumped into her hiding place.She waited for what seemed like hours and then slowly walked out of the stockroom. Before doing anything else she lit a cigarette and hope that there would be no smoke detectors around. She blowed puffs of smoke in various directions and the purpose of this was to detect any infra red light rays which might be connected to an alarm. She discovered two such rays but her passage to the exit from the room with the special painting was safe. Erica started walking slowly towards the painting and feeling of the cold stone floor under her bare feet made her shiver with excitement. Soon she was standing in the dark before the painting and she could feel a sense of lust and excitement building up within her. She realized that the victim would soon be in place, that the door to the other side had been opened for her and that there would be no turning back. She closed her eyes, concentrating, visualizing, praying.

All of a sudden she felt a chilling wind caressing her bare skin and she realized that she was kneeling on the stone floor, totally naked. Her long silky blonde hair was held in a firm grip so that her head was pushed back. She dared not raise her eyes at the man who spoke to her.- Are you at this time prepared to confess the sin of blasphemy, the dark voice thundered. As she did not answer, the next thing she knew was a searing pain shock that made her lose her breath. She felt like thousands of red hot needles had been pressed into her back and her screams were silenced by several hard slaps across her face. She could feel blood trickling down her back and she caught a brief glimpse of the heavy scourge that was being used on her. Each lash had hundreds of small spikes imbedded and this ferocious torture instrument would leave several deep bleeding wounds on impact. It could easily cut her flesh to shreds. The question was asked again without an answer. The whip again. Erica thought she could take it no more. If this was a dream it was certainly the most realistic dream she had ever experienced. The scourge bit into her back, buttocks and thighs again and again opening up many new bleeding wounds and the pain was simply excrutiating. Yet she realized that she would not confess. It was important that she did not confess no matter if they whipped the life out of her.

Suddenly the torturers decided to try something else. A man walked slowly towards her holding two heavy metal, egg-formed objects. They were obviously very hot as he shifted them from hand to hand all the time. The eggs were pressed into the poor girl’s armpits and then her arms were strapped tightly to her body. Erica’s desperate screams of pain drowned every other sound and the pain as the hot metal burnt into her flesh was simply too much. Erica passed out.

As she came to she was bent over a bench, tightly chained to it in a position which left her wide open from assaults from behind. One of her tortures put a metal device into her mouth, something known as a torture pear. When turning a screw the object expanded within her mouth until her jaws were on the brink of being dislocated. She felt a hard grip on her hips and next an unknown man was furiously battering away at her tight anus in order to sodomize her. Finally he succeeded to break through the tight puckered passage between her lacerated buttocks and he did it so hard that Erica split up and started to bleed. The pain was so intense that she almost passed out again as his masterful manhood pumped so deep into her that his heavy balls smacked against her buttocks. As he roared from savage lust and shot load after load of his gism into her ravaged hole, Erica could feel another man taking his place and starting to use her now wide open passage. Her ordeal never seemed to end, as if there was a long line of men standing and waiting for their turn to use her. Everybody wanted to use her anally and Erica was certain that her rectum would be damaged forever.

As the torture pear was removed it was now time for Erica to use her mouth to satisfy her torturers in the best way she could. She had no doubt that they were capable of anything so she simply didn’t dare to disobey. Erica was made kneeling on the floor as she took one huge erected cock after another in her mouth and every time they shot their load into her they held her head tight to ensure that she swallowed it all. When everybody had used her for what felt like hours, a huge brute of a man held her arms behind her and by the grip of her hair forced her head backwards so that her breasts stuck out. Sofar they had been saved from torture but that was now to change. The man in front of her was brandishing a long, whippy bamboo cane and he struck it hard against a hardwood table so the cane split. Then he dipped the splintered cane into a bucket of salt solution and raised the now dangerous weapon over his head. Splintered bamboo cuts very deep and his target was Erica’s tender breasts. Already after three strokes both her breasts were totally covered in blood and the poor girl passed out again.

When Erica woke up she was lying in her bed, spread-eagled, masturbating. Yes, she had obviously been masturbating in her sleep and kept on coming again again. But the fantastic thing about this dream was that she could actually feel the pain. Her entire body was on fire and she was so week that she could hardly move. Her armpits hurt excrutiatingly and to her horror she could see vivid red branding marks from the hot iron eggs. She managed to get up and into the bathroom. She gasped from the shock when she saw all scars on her body from the scourge. Her back, buttocks and thighs were covered by scars and wounds, as were her breasts. Especially her breasts had very deep, painful scars although they had stopped bleeding. Her anus felt like a red hot iron bar had been showed into her.Erica fell to the floor, totally unable to understand what had happened to her – or if it had really happened at all. But the pain and the marks on her body were as good proof as any and sweet Erica knew that she had to be back at the museum again very soon.

A figging masturbating session and my Facebook adventures

Yes, I have joined Facebook. As if it wasn’t enough neglecting my blog and you, my dear blog friends, I have now another plight hanging over me. But isn’t it after all a question about procrastination? I often think about things I would like to tell you but somehow something comes in between and day after day go by without a sign of life from me. Anyway, I must say that Facebook is an interesting possibility of creating new contacts and I have made many new friends there. One of these very special friends is an Aussie girl by the name of Erica and somehow we seem to have struck the right chord with each other. Something which lead us to a mutual masturbating session as we were chatting with each other on the Facebook chat.

I have told you earlier about the painful joy I experienced when using a piece of ginger root inserted into my anus when masturbating. This is a most special feeling and it simply drives me crazy with lust. It burns deeper and deeper, it’s like having glowing coal pressed into your rectum and the burning sensation just keep on growing all the time. My new friend sweet Erica had never tried it before so I suggested she put a peeled ginger root into her tight orifice as we were talking. Fortunately she found the needed spice in the kitchen and very soon we were talking dirty to each other while masturbating and having the ginger burn itself into our behinds.
I had told Erica that for maximum effect she should make some cuts with a knife in the ginger root which she did. All of a sudden we were taken to a different world and although our contact was made via the keyboard it was a very near and intimate experience. Just like she had actually been close to me… I could sense her soft skin, her silky blonde hair, feel the taste of her ripe swollen lips. Yes, you can get very excited by this form of communication. It’s like listening to the radio which makes you create your own mental pictures as you go along. Photos and webcams leaves very little to the imagination and personally I feel that can be a turn-off at times.I think you had a good time, too, sweet Erica. Believe me, I came again and again and it never seemed to stop. The ginger in my anus burnt terribly and I thought I could stand it no longer while at the same time I wanted it to burn deeper… letting me be totally consumed by this wonderful cruel fire which made my orgasms so much more intense. I lost all sense of time and for a long while it was just me and Erica riding high on the waves of passionate, pure lust, with the fire caused by the ginger root inside our secret passages becoming stronger all the time

Believe me, this was a very special experience together with a very special girl. If you do masturbation sessions through web chats, try ginger root sometimes. You won’t regret it :-) Oh, by the way I promised to write a fantasy story for Erica and publish it in my blog. This will be my next posting and it will be up soon. Hope you enjoy it and thanks for everything… deep French kisses from a sultry and sinful tina, longing for the next time…

Update: My Facebook account was just deleted! I have created a new one under the name of Tina Larsson, previously Tinaslut Sweden. I realize it will take some time to rebuild my network of friends which was close to 900 names when the account was deleted. I suspect this was because I have published some exciting pics on my Facebook page. Anyway, I will be glad to add you as my friend but in the future I will not publish any pics on FB which will give these hypocrites any reason to delete my account (if they do need a reason at all). I see no point in working on a page which is so easily deleted at the whims of the operators and therefore I shall concentrate on my blog instead. Here there are no restrictions. If Blogger should ever start behaving like FB I have my own domain already registred so believe me, I’m here to stay!

Back and proud and with fresh whipmarks on my bottom... mmmmmm

Hello my wonderful friends and my apologies for neglecting this blog for so long :-) Seems like you need to make blogging into a daily routine if it is to be done at all. But now I'm back and I'm proud. I' m hot and I feel sinful like never before ;-) I have realized that Second Life perhaps isn't my cup of tea after all. Sure it is exciting but I have realized how time consuming it really is, especially if you don't have a very fast computer. Besides, there's nothing wrong with the First Life, better known as IRL..

The other day when I went out to lunch I suddenly got the immediate urge for pain! You know, like when you're desperate for a cigarette or some sweets and must have it right away. So instead of having a meal I jumped into my car and drove as fast as I could out of town and before I knew it I was walking on a path into the woods. I knew I had to be back at work in around 45 minutes and I also knew I had to experience pain before I did. So I cut myself a bunch of whippy long switches and went deeper into the woods where I hid behind a big rock. The risk that somebody would see me was minimal but anyway I don't think I would have cared. I took of my jeans and panties and bent forward, sticking my bottom out and started whipping myself with the switches as hard a I could. Oh, what a glorious feeling! I lashed away like obsessed, striking with three switches at the same time. In my minds eye I could see the switches biting through my skin, deep into my quivering buttocks. After arount twenty lashes I realized it would be more effective using just one of the switches and I started whipping myself savagely with the longest one, striking as hard as I could and the strokes fell faster and faster while I stuck my bottom out to meet each stinging lash. Tears were flowing down my face and I was catapulted into subslut heaven.

I reached my goal of a hundred lashes on my bare bottom and when I caressed my sore welted buttocks I could see blood on my fingers. I simply could not wait to get in front of a mirror to see what I had accompished. And, naturally, sitting down was out of the question for the rest of the day. It really was an ordeal to drive my car back to work and I put some paper tissues in my panties to absorb the red driplets. God was this wonderful!

Back at work a colleague asked me where I had been as she didn't see me at lunch. 'No, I just took a walk in the woods instead' I answered with a smile.

Take care and have a great weekend whatever you do. love and kisses from tina.

My Second Life

Yes I know, I have been away for too long. But now I'm back! I should have continued the Saudi story but for some reason my inspiration has failed. Until the other day when I discovered something which had been totally unknown to me. The virtual world of Second Life. This is very exciting and a good start for being lent out IRL. Somehow I feel that your personality shines through very much in the way your virtual ego acts. This is a very exciting world and I regret that I have so many practical things to learn. Is there any experienced SL player out there who could guide me further? For instance, how do you find or make specific applications? Would it be possible to create a scene where the story of my punishment in Saudi Arabia could be displayed in virtual reality? This would surely be one step further and, I am sure, very arousing both for myself and those using me.

I am desperately longing to be used! Please come and rape me, whip me, torture me, humiliate me in Second Life! I am available if you want me and I want to learn more about this world. Yes, one day I will also be available IRL and this is a good start.

Deep and passionate kisses to you my dear friends...
tina

I'm now also on Facebook using the name Tinaslut Sweden if you would like to add me as your friend.

Tina in Saudi Arabia, part 4

Early in the morning, the heavy iron door to my cell was opened by a female warden whom I had never seen before. After she had cuffed my hands behind my back she unfastened the chain from the iron ring in the wall and led me out through the corridor. In the semi-darkness I could see the faces of anonymous women behind the bars and I realized they all knew what I was about to face. I was only wearing a thin linen robe and the chilly air gave me goosebumps all over and my nipples were hard and stiff. With my hands cuffed behind my back and my eyes lowered, I followed the woman in silence. Her duty was to prepare me for my flogging. At first I received an enema in the bathroom, bending over the toilet stool. She inserted a nozzle in my sore anus and soon I felt the warm water from the tank on a shelf flowing into me. I felt my bowels being filled by litres by litres of water and my belly was swelling. Then she made me sit down on the toilet and after I had emptied my bowels of all the water, the procedure was repeated. When she had made sure I was completely purged, she dragged me to the shower and started to soap me while she let the water stream over my body. At first, the water was warm and nice, then she changed the tap to ice-cold water which felt like needles into my skin and I lost my breath from the shock. She rubbed me dry with a rough towel and I could not help that the harsh treatment triggered a wellknown fire that spread through my loins. She avoided looking into my eyes, but I could now and then get a glimpse of her beautiful dark eyes and her round, soft breasts that were heaving under her white blouse. I started fantasizing about what it would be like to romp around in bed with this shapely, raven-haired beauty…. I could almost feel her ripe lips upon my body… kisses, her teeth biting into my flesh… first gently, then harder…. the way her hands, her lips and tongue would drive me crazy with lust…. I blushed at the thought. “Yes”, I thought, “I definitely am a slut. A slut ruled by her sex... and it is only rightful that I shall be whipped for my sins”. After she had dried me it was time for my medical examination. All conversations between the doctor and the woman was carried out in Arabic, but I understood from the voice of the doctor that I was perfectly fit and that there was no medical risks whatsoever to carry out the punishment, giving me my first fifty lashes today. The first fifty of a five thousand…. After the examination a hard rubber plug was inserted into my anus and fastened by a small thong of leather around my waist. The doctor surprised me by giving me a playful smack with his palm on my right buttock and that made me blush even more, as I was led away by the beautiful female warden.

She led me out in the yard to a waiting big black bus with bars before the window. After a slow drive through the city, the bus stopped near a big square and as the door was opened, the heat hit me like a shock. Thousands of spectators had gathered to see me being flogged and there was no making a mistake about the excitement and the anticipation among the public. Over the huge crowd a monotonous, neutral voice could be heard over a big loudspeaker system and I realized that it was the morning prayer that was read from a minaret. After this prayer, the first part of my flogging sentence would be carried out. The sun was rising and the very long prayer made me even more nervous as the minutes ticked away. The sun was rising and the paving stones burned the soles of my bare feet as I was lead by the chain from the car by the man that were using me as his personal sextoy each and every day. I was completely naked under the white robe, which reached down to my knees. It surprised me that no efforts were made to cover my body in view of the shocking behaviour I was sentenced for. I could see by the knowing looks from many men (and women) in the crowd that they could see how my stiff nipples – harder than ever before – were outlined through the thin fabrics of the robe. “What a whore” I could see them thinking. “Here she is… about to be whipped to shreads and yet her body cannot react in another way.” “Yes”, I thought, “I must be a lost soul… a sinful, lusty, wanton slut… and so it is absolutely right that I shall be punished in the hardest possible ways.” I could not possibly raise my eyes and blushing, I followed my tormentor in his footsteps with my eyes focused on the cobblestones below us. My hair fell down over my eyes and my lips were tightly pressed together.

We entered a big platform that had been built in the centre of the square. It was a high wooden platform with a big wooden frame. Heavy iron cuffs for my ankles and wrists were hanging down by chains from the frame. He lead me to the frame and at first, he chained my wrists high above my head and pulled the chains so that my arms were stretched to the side as long as possible. He then fastened the chains in this poaition and repeated the procedure with my ankles. This resulted in my body being stretched in the form of an “X”. In the middle of the frame there was a wide, beam from left to right and it had thick leather straps fastened to it. The straps were tightened across my waist and the widest strap had a thick padded cushon on it, which, I understood, was intended to protect my kidneys from too hard blows. After all, I was supposed to survive all the five thousand lashes in order to be branded at the end of my public floggings. What would happen after that? At the moment I could not think further than just surviving the day. Several rods of bamboo, each around two metres long, stuck up from a big bath of some antiseptic liquid, I reckoned. While I was staring at the sharp canes in awe, a monotonous voice started reading something from a written document from the platform. I realized that it was my sentence being read out in public for the first time – and also the form of punishment I would receive. Cheers and laughters could be heard from the huge crowd and everybody’s eyes were focused on my body. My tormentor stood behind me, only dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and rough leather shoes. I could not see him but I knew his huge muscles would be playing all over his body. The doctor that had examined me was also present at the platform in order to attend my flogging and, if need be, stop it. This would not be done, however, until my life was at risk.

Then the time had come! The doctor and the man reading my sentence backed off and my tormentor and secret lover chose a cane and walked around the edge of the platform, swishing the cane and letting his powerful arm muscles play. Some drops of the liquid in which the cane had been kept landed on my bare skin and it made me jump from shock as if somebody has burnt me with a glowing cigarette. My breathing became faster and heavier like I has been running and I could hear the man stepping back before he rushed at me, swung the long sharp rod, laying his entire weight behind it. WHOOOSH!! CRACKK! The rod hissed through the air and immediately after, a flash of fire and pain shout through my body and I screamed on the top of my lungs. I screamed in terror and I pulled desperately at my bonds to no avail. This was worse than anything I could possibly have imagined. Tears were flowing down my face and from the trail of fire that burned across my back, a horrible pain spread through every nerve in my body. I could not comprehend how anything could hurt so much… it was a pain which I had never experienced. In spite of all the times he had been whipping me with his belt, he had never ever hurt me so much. He calmly backed away and dipped the cane into the liquid while he admired the result of his handiwork. It was impossible for me to say where the cane would bite next time. Oh God, how can I possibly survive 50 lashes this hard…. nobody could… he’s going to kill me…..

He waited a couple of minutes to allow me to catch my breath and let the pain really sink into my body. My tormented cries spread over the square, but my pulse was going down a bit and I started to get control of my breathing again, although the pain from this very first lash was growing in intensity continuously. It felt like somebody was holding a red hot iron against my skin, pressing it deeper all the time….. This made me think of the branding that was in store for me after all five thousand lashes had been administred. I felt so utterly helpless and I was crying and sobbing until I then again was torn apart by a terribly hard lash, this time right across my buttocks. Totally blinded by tears I screamed and hollered in desperation: “Can’t you see that he is whipping the life out of me! Why aren’t you doing anything? Please, help me…” Seconds after, the sharp rod once again bit deep into my buttocks, this time right across the cut of the previous lash. From my throat came a guttural sound and I could feel that my skin has been broken so that blood was trickling down my thighs.

I must confess that he was a master of art in the use of whip and rod. All the time was driving me crazy with horror by causing me a pain that was worse than I could have expected. Then he let the worst shock of pain ebb out before he struck again. And, by God, did he whip me hard! In my pain-drugged mind I was wondering if my body would ever be free from these marks of shame…. that is, if I was going to survive this terrible torture at all. At times, several hard strokes fell in rapid succession, while at other times he let me wait and suffer for a long time before he laid on a new savage stroke. Because of this irregularity I did not know when he would strike again or how long my suffering would last. As he laid three very hard sharp cracking strokes one after another into my already battered, swollen and bleeding buttocks, I had had too much. My cries faded away and I could feel myself slipping into a mercifull darkness, where my pains were vanishing like magic. “If this is the end, then I welcome it”, was my last thought. I must have received about twenty lashes when I fainted for the first time. The doctor advanced to me as I was hanging unconscious in my shackles and after a short examination he gestured that the flogging could continue. I was brought back to life by the sharp smell of ammonia and to my horror, I realized that I was still very much alive and that my suffering was far from over. The doctor took the bottle away from under my nose and withdraw silently.

The white robe has been totally torn to pieces by the strokes of the sharp cane and as the frame was leaning slightly forward, the bloody pieces of fabric hung down from my body. I realized that by now everybody in the audience could see my naked body and I knew that the back of my body was covered by bloody streaks and deep scars. The scorching sun burnt my tormented skin like fire and at irregular intervals, somebody sponged my scars with liquor. This burnt like fire and added even more to my unbearable pain. I felt like I was losing my mind. The biting rod that was ripping my body to pieces had thrown me into a world of pain and madness which I could never in my wildest dreams have imagined. I don’t know if I screamed it out loud or just formed the words in my brain, but suddenly it was flashing through my mind like a mantra, while the excruciating pain chocks just kept on coming… and growing in intensity: “Tina Larsson, whore… slash bloody streaks into the whore... Swedish slut… now she's getting what she deserves…. harder… hurt her…. whip her into a bloody pulp… mark her for eternity with your whip… harder… Tina is a whore…. sinful, horny, wanton slaveslut Tina… yes, I am a cheap whore… a horny slut that deserves to be whipped… whip me hard… harder…. HARDER!!!! Oh God, please hurt me more…. must have it... please give me the rod... oh God, give him the power to whip me even harder... whip me to shreads… don’t ever stop…. please, more… hurt me, HURT MEEEEEEE!!!! Tina Larsson… horniest slut in the world… today being whipped in front of thousands of people… it’s so right… I deserve it… torture me, whip me to shreads, please more…. the barefoot whore Tina Larsson is being flogged in Saudi Arabia… what great happiness…. in the hands of the most cruel one of them all…. let me wear the marks of your whip and your rod on my sinful body for eternity… blond horny Swedish slut being whipped publically… Tina Larsson, at last you get it!!!! Please, hurt me more…..” ¨

I could not understand what was happening but in my pain-drugged mind I felt myself sliding into another world and finally, I was so desperately horny that I didn’t know what to do. My sex was gaping shamessly open and I knew that everybody could see my juices flowing, how wet I was… it was flowing down my legs… The endorphin high made me mad with lust and I fainted several times, as much from the pain shocks as from my extreme arousal. In my crazy pain-drugged mind the biting rod had become an addiction and in my minds eye I could see myself lying on my back on the podium after the flogging… everybody wanting to fuck me could come forward and freely do me over… hard and brutal… the harder, the better… in my mouth, ass and my pussy…. just come and take me… the horny slut Tina Larsson, freshly flogged and desperate with lust… Tina Larsson of Sweden… raped by thousands of men after being flogged… I had never experienced anything like it. The pain sent me on a trip that no drugs in the world could ever have done. It is beyond doubt that the man whipping me knew exactly what he was doing and he realized that I, his private sextoy, had now been driven to a lust beyond comprehension and he knew what a horny slut he would have at his disposal when we got back to my cell… oh, God, how I longed to be back in my cell to be used by this man who was driving me crazy with his extremely hard lashes.

I had lost count of the number of strokes long ago and I had no idea as of how long the terrible torture had been going on, but finally my tormentor put the rod aside and went down to the frame for releasing me. I was totally exhausted and could not move, but I was still conscious. He turned my body over, forced me down on my knees and cuffed my hands high above my head. He stretched the chain holding the cuffs maximally and then fastened the cuffs around my ankles again. The frame was raised a bit, thus stretching the chains holding my wrists even more and the frame pushing into my back made my breasts stick out, being exposed in all their glory. The rests of the bloody robe now lay on the platform beside me and I could now for the first time see the man that had been flogging me. When he raised his cane again the insight of what he intended to do flashed through my mind, and the last five lashes dug into my breasts with a frenzy and a swiftness like never before, he succeeded in administring all the last five lashes before I passed out from the extreme pain. Already the first stroke sent me into a terrible fire of pain on my way towards the darkness, but I could also experience the four successive strokes…. how he struck in wild rage, sweat pouring down his face… his teeth grimly bit together and with the eyes of an obsessed… at the fraction of a second while I was drifting into unconsiousness I reflected that now he must have lost control and is going to far. Then I was embraced by the lovely, soothing darkness and with deep, bloody scars in my breasts, I passed out hanging in my shackles.

Tina in Saudi Arabia, part 3

I was about to receive my first fifty lashes in two weeks. Naturally I was very frightened about this but still I felt a strange kind of anticipation. When my tormentor was whipping me with his heavy belt I was climaxing continuously and yearning for more although I realized I had had far too much already…. but being whipped with a sharp bamboo cane, until hanging bloody and limb in my shackles in front of thousands of spectators…. that was something else. At the same time, however, I could see what happened to my body as I was beaten. I experienced a frenzy and an ecstasy which was beyond comprehension. The more the belt cracked against my bare flesh, the more lust I felt. I was obsessed by the stinging leather. My entire body was boiling from endorphins and I was horny beyond description… I felt like I could do anything and just wanted to be brutally ravaged and whipped even harder. Would I experience the same ecstasy when I was flogged in public… and if I did, would it show how excited I really was? I was looking forward to what was to come with a mixture of horror and anticipation.

A fantasy which has been within my mind for as long as I can remember is that of a cruel, brutal caveman knocking me senseless with his heavy club and dragging me by the hair to his cave. I might have seen it in some comics magazine. Wasn’t that exactly was had happened to me in reality? Even if the man did not drag me by the hair after knocking me out, he had in effect clubbed me – and so hard that I had been out for more than twelve hours. Every time the man who had swung his club came into my cell to use me, I was staring like bewitched on the long shiny wooden blackjack (or the club) that was hanging from his belt. He always put the blackjack aside on my bunk before he started working me over. To start with I had been feeling scared but I was now longing for him to visit me in my cell and naturally, he could not help but noticing the way I reacted. We could not talk to one another verbally but the way my body reacted told me everything he needed to know. Now and then he let other men come into my cell to use me, quite often, really. I could not help but thinking how it had all started… in effect, I was doing the same thing now as when I was whoring around Riyadh, the main difference being that I was being paid very well at the time and now I was locked up in a cell and being ravaged in the most brutal ways imagineable. However, my lust and excitement was as big as ever and the pain…. oh, the lovely pain… to be raped, whipped and beaten turned me on more than I could ever have imagined. To me, this was a prison of lust and I spent most of my time masturbating when I was not being raped… frigging myself into countless orgasms… my moanings, screams and cries of lust was heard from my cell all days long and I am sure that many men around could just not resist the temptation to go in and work me over because of the lustful sounds coming from my cell all the time. Obviously I was being used by wardens and convicts alike.

On the night before my first public whipping I was blindfolded and chained, then taken out to a waiting car. I was naked apart from my chains and cuffs. After a trip of around half an hour I was led into a house and I could feel the cold stone of marble floor and stairs under my bare feet. The blindfold was on all the time and I could see nothing but I could understand from the sounds echoing through the walls that I was in a very big room, probably a palace or something similar. Strong hands gripped me and forced me over a padded bench and I felt cool leather against my bare skin. My wrists and ankles were chained to the bench and another heavy iron cuff was fastened around my neck.. I have no idea of how many men were around me but all of a sudden they were all over me… hard pricks penetrating all my orifices and I felt totally filled up, being brutally ravaged from all directions… the men were taking turns in pinching and biting my flesh and fucking me…. as soon as one man had come in me, there was immediately another hard erect pole there to take his place… I was losing all awareness of time and room… all I was aware of was the hard dicks pumping in and out of me… filling me with warm wonderful semen… I swallowed all I could but still a lot of come was flowing down my face… I was licking, sucking, slurping and really feasting on all this lovely warm, salt come….. I couldn’t get enough…. strong fingers were pinching my flesh, my nipples, my clit and my pubic lips… I felt teeth and nails penetrating my skin, lips sucking in my flesh until it hurt… in my lust-crazed mind I thought that my body would be full of sucking marks tomorrow as I would be flogged in public…. there on my body for everybody to see… I felt ashamed… teeth biting so hard into my nipples and breasts that I felt tears flowing down my face…. I could not scream out loud as my mouth was filled by an enormous swelling cock and I was longing for itto explode, spurting its costly load down my throat…

I was raped for hours and then taken back to the prison. Well back in my cell, I immediately fell asleep, totally exhausted and with come dripping out of all my orifices.

In a matter of hours I would be taken out to the city square for being publically flogged.

Tina in Saudi Arabia part 2

When I first was brought back to my cell after receiving my sentence, it was obvious that the man who had been using me for several months wanted to celebrate. He led me into the cell, forced me down on my knees on the cold stone floor and attached the chain from my iron collar to a big iron ring on the wall. I realized that he would see to it that we would not be disturbed now. I was really his now… his own personal toy to enjoy and subject to his perverted desires… The fantastic thing, however, was that I was so incredibly horny… so horny I could die! I could feel my juices flowing down my thighs and I was sticking my behind out, opening myself up for him… offering myself like a she-cat in heat. Now we both realized that he could do anything he wanted to me, and that whatever he did, I would enjoy it… and just beg him for more. Of course he saw how desperately hot I was… the sweet smell of my steaming pussy filled the cell and he had locked the door thoroughly from inside. He started to pull his heavy leather belt out of his trousers and folded it. Now I knew I was in for a real good trashing! Surely I had been beaten earlier by him and others, but then it had mostly been the odd smack of my face or some relatively light strokes by a cane or a stick… mostly threats on what could happen in order to make me talk, but nothing serious, really.

Now I was really in for it…. I stuck my bare bottom out for all I was worth and held my breath, anticipating…. The first smack of the heavy leather belt made me cry out at the top of my lungs from pain… there was no use in pretending to be stoical. I can assure you that I did not make any attempt to avoid the stinging leather. No, I stuck my behind out all I could to meet the savage lashes of his belt and my globes shivered and rolled with each slash as he continued to lay his belt on with full force. How long is he going to beat me? My God, I am coming soon… please hurt me… beat me harder…. Pleeease… Without even realizing it myself I was screaming out loud: “OOOH YESSSS, GOD, WHIP ME HARDER….. WHIP ME TO SHREDS… HURT ME… PLEASE, MORE… OOOHH HURT ME, PLEEEASE!!! Even though he may not have understood the words, the message was as clear as could be. I was squirming, sticking my bottom out at an even faster pace in perfect rhytm with his slashes, to meet each smack, desperately pulling my chains. He kept on beating me with his heavy belt until my round globes were swollen and covered with welts…. I could not possibly sit after this but I thought it was marvellous… I felt like I was on some happy drug. The sharp cracks of the leather against my naked flesh echoed between the stone walls and I could imagine that everybody else in the prison heard what was going on… all the wardens and convicts realized that the Swedish whore was getting what she deserved right now…. And he had most definitely made sure that we would not be disturbed. The muscles of his strong arm played as he kept on beating me…. making sure that the big brass buckle was buried in my flesh with each stroke, the metal studs of the belt leaving a dotted pattern on my bruised flesh. He was a very athletic man, unusually tall for an Arab, and he surely did not handle the matter with kid gloves as he kept on beating me. With a dogged determination and sweat flowing down his face, he continued to whip me in a completely frenzy. At last the inevitable happened. The strokes fell at such a furious pace that the belt and his muscular arm looked like hazy…. and suddenly it happened…. all the excitement that had been built up in my body must come out… I could not fight it and did not want to…. my body was shaking with a countless number of orgasms that came one after another… I fell to the floor with my thighs pressed together, spasmodically twitching and shaking all over my body…. I climaxed again and again and he intensified the beating, whipping me in a rage…. just as if he wanted to beat the life out of me…. and I am not sure I would have minded that, either. Oh God, I could not remember when I last time had been so incredibly horny…

At last, he dropped his well used belt on my bunk. It felt like my glowing ass globes were at least twice their normal size after the incredible trashing I had just received. I was completely dizzy and drained of energy as he took my hips in a firm grip by his big strong hands, pulling me up in order to sodomize me, I could not resist… I had no power left and just let it happen… I had screamed so much I almost had lost my voice. When he brutally thrusted at my secret passage and finally forced his huge member through my anus, all I could utter was a long moan of pain and lust. Despite the fact that he had been fucking me in the anus several times and often had been using his huge blackjack for sodomizing my tight puckered hole, I always split up and started to bleed from this invasion, maybe because I never had time to heal properly between the occasions when he or somebody else were sodomizing me. At some times there was a long line of men standing in line outside my cell, waiting to fuck me in the ass. I realized that I was being used by wardens and convicts alike.

My tormentor kept on thrusting brutally and furiously into me and when he screamed out his lust and his huge member exploded deep within me, I fell in a heap on the floor, half unconscious and totally unable to move… but experiencing a feeling of profound happiness. I felt to sleep from sheer exhaustion and did never hear him leaving me and locking the door to my cell, after he had cleaned himself and adjusted his clothes. Normally, it would hav been my duty to lick him clean from my blood and his sperm, but this time he let me lie left on the floor. He realized what he had done to me…. and, as me, he realized that there were no limits whatsoever for how far I could go in my obsession with pain, lust and humiliation. My last thought as I drifted away was that I was really a happy girl… a very happy bad girl…

The need for anonymity

Many who visited my chat have asked me why there are no pics of myself in the blog. Well, this is a delicate question. Believe me, being exposed in this way would surely add to my own thrills. However, it would also mean a big risk as you never know for what purpose some people would use the pics or the knowledge of who I am. It gives me a security being totally anonymous and obviously I am not the only one thing along these lines.

There is a very popular Swedish author of erotic short stories writing under the pseudonyme of Clara Jansson. Those of you who don’t speak Swedish may never have heard of her. Anyway, she is currently releasing her third collection of short stories focusing on sexuality from the perspective of women. But her texts are not really the mainstream type of erotic stories as she covers most areas of sex, writing about the dirty, the wet, the perverted. She say she is a wellknown Swedish author normally active in quite another niche. The anonymity, she maintains, is necessary for her to be free to write about anything she wants. The very fact that nobody knows who she really is gives her the freedom to write about the most unusual and perverted sexual activities. If people knew who I am, she says, they would say either that “aha, you’re a lesbian, then you can’t write about heterosexual love” or “as a heterosexual woman, what do you know about the feelings of a lesbian?” She describes herself as a sexual cameleont, a two-sexed observer who could just as well be a man for all we know. Also, we know nothing about her age.

I fully well understand the way she feels. As for myself being anonymous gives me a feeling of security and I may write about fantasies, self punishments and things that you normally don’t talk about. Besides, I realize that many of those following my blog has created a mental picture of who I am and would perhaps not like to have that image disrupted. Others get irritated because they can’t pinpoint exactly who or what I am and wants to have all personal details, detailed pictures and preferably also talk to me on the phone to really get convinced that I am what I claim to be. But the thing is that my passions is something very private and nobody around me in everyday life has got a clue about my secret desires. At the moment I feel that this is the best way – and I think Clara (whoever she really is) agrees. After all, you can get a very accurate image of a person by studying the way she writes. It would be interesting to hear what mental images you have created of me sofar. Please leave a comment while you are here. And yes, the Saudi story will continue. Very soon...

A bad girl gets imprisoned and flogged: Tina in Saudi Arabia, part one

Mmmm this girl is sooo horny now... fantasizing, masturbating, longing for rough brutal sex and severe punishments. I dream about it all the time but it seems like it gets even worse as spring is approaching. Yes, I am a bad bad girl and I really need to be punished. It's about time I get back to my self punishment sessions very soon as my entire being is craving it, my mind is focused on pain and humiliation and I am longing to wear those vivid marks on my body. Here is one of my favourite fantasies which I often use as I bring myself to climax again and again. I hope you will enjoy it, too.

It is really my own fault that I am in this situation at the present time… I am sentenced to eight years imprisonment in a Saudi prison plus five thousand lashes. I went from Sweden to Saudi Arabia to work as a nurse and I soon learnt that I could earn an enormous amount of money as a prostitute. Often I picked up my customers in public places, parks and so on. The dress code of the country did not expect women to dress in a sexy way, but I took the risk and could often be seen walking around in a short miniskirt in the parks of Riyadh and all the time I was bare-foot. The desperate lust. I needed to have sex all the time and my customers really did appreciate the blond, horny European whore who put all her soul and body into the act. There was no question that I was enjoying it. Many men of an high position learnt about me and often picked me up regularly in the parks of Riyadh.

It was as I was serving a Saudi prince by my mouth (I later learned he was a prince) that I was caught red-handed by the police in a park. They told the prince to disappear quickly not to be involved in a scandal, and so he did, without even having the time to arrange his clothes. A big limousine was waiting for him nearby the park.

Now I was going to be arrested by the vice squad of Riyadh. At the time I had also had some alcohol which the prince had given me, and I struggled and kicked with all my might as three policemen grabbed me. Two others were coming to assist their colleagues as I suddenly succeded to grab the revolver from one of the cops. They immediately let me go and I backed from them, having them at gunpoint. Everything happened so quickly that I could not think. I backed further away from the group of policemen, pointing the gun at them, but I did not see the big athletic policeman that silently slipped behind me. He was not taking any risks and was determined to neutralize me as effectively as possible. One of the other men cried out at me; I turned my head and at that very moment the man behind me struck hard with his heavy blackjack. My world exploded in a cascade of stars as the blow hit my head and everything went black. I was deeply unconscious when I hit the ground as a ripe fruit before their feet. In his excitement he had struck far too hard, but they could see I was still breathing and I was carried away to a waiting car.

More than twelve hours later I woke up at a prison hospital in Riyadh. I had an excrutiating headache and a big lump plus a bloody wound on my head where the blackjack had hit me. Eventually, as I was considered fit, I was transferred to a cell. The interrogation started and in Saudi prisons you can be held in custody for a very long time before going to trial. Some means of trying to make me confess what I was charged with were rape, humiliation and abuse. The policeman who had swung his blackjack with full force was a very cruel, brutal and muscular man. He realized that he now had every possibility to use me as he wanted and he spent several hours in my cell to force me into confessing. He used his blackjack in a quite different way now: he raped me by the huge club, thrusting it in and out of my pussy with full force, so hard and deep that it hit my cervix. Nor did he spare my tight puckered anus and the first time he pressed his blackjack into my rear, I started to bleed. My God, how it hurt! This orifice was going to be expanded considerably over time, as I learnt that these men loved using a woman in this way. Especially a Nordic blonde slut like me.

I was forced to suck him off, as well as many other men who came to me in my cell to use me and rape me. I have no idea if they were policemen or not. Every day I was sodomized in the most brutal way and when I finally got over the initial shock of pain, it became a real endorphin high for me. I climaxed again and again, never seeming to be able to stop. When I was left alone in my cell I was constantly masturbating and I was longing to be used again. I also got beaten regularly and enjoyed it. After several months I was sent to trial and after long hours of hearing, I was made to sign a paper in Arabic, which I did not understand. When I finally had it translated, I realized that I had been sentenced to five thousand lashes to be administred by fifty lashes a week plus eight years imprisonment and being branded with a red hot iron. In the verdict it was stated that the lashes should be hard ones, as opposed to normally when a woman is flogged, when the flogger holds the Koran under the same arm wielding the cane, in order to lessen the impacts of each blow. I was the first woman ever in the country to be sentenced to branding in addition to public flogging and imprisonment. This was to make an example for other prostitutes trying to threathen the moral of the nation.

I cried helplessly when I had had the verdict translated. How could I possibly survive such an extreme punishment. And yet… why was it that my pussy was tingling with lust and my juices flowing at the same time as my body was shaking with sobs? I was brought back to my cell, my hands and feet chained by heavy iron cuffs and a heavy iron collar around my neck. The man who had knocked me out with his heavy blackjack was leading me by a chain attached to my neck collar. I was already mad with anticipation of what was expecting me in my cell….

Do you like this type of stories? This is something I just wrote in about 30 min’s about a fantasy dream I had a night a long time ago. If you want to talk to me we can set up a time in my chatroom (see link "Enter my chatroom" in the right hand menu.)

Please tell me what you think and if you want to see more along this line. Gosh, now I'm so horny that I simply have to masturbate... mmm I'm such a cheap dirty whore... a real slut... a painslut... be with you again soon. If you want to I'll continue the story, please leave a comment.

Love and deep French kisses,
tina

Do you want to chat with me?

Given my irregular blog postings it may seem like a futile attempt to add a chat room to my blog. But I have done it anyway. Just look to the right and you will find a link entitled "Enter my Chat Room". This is it! I really want to talk to you and maybe this will be a way of increasing my blog activity. So many things have happened recently and I know I have been absent too much. But I feel really excited about starting up again and with spring approaching my lust of life is really coming back with full force and I feel the energy building within me day by day. This is going to be a wonderful year with many positive experiences. Let's share them with each other - and do log in to my chat room when you feel like it. I look forward to seeing you there ;-) kisses... tina

Blogger technical problems and a good caning

Have you noticed something strange about my blog lately? Apart, of course, from the fact that I have not been here as much as I should? All of a sudden I could only see a white page when I tried to access my blog. Obviously this was some technical problem with Blogger and I got the answer through a users group. When the content warning option was switched on for some reason the entire blog disappeared. So I switched the warning off and everything worked as usual again. Now obviously this complication has been corrected as the content warning is there again, this time because somebody has complained about the content hen my blog had not been censored out of blogosphere after all.

While I am here I might as well share a video from the Nu West archives with you. I like this one very much. A female thief is being caned and I really like the expression and attitude of the strong and fit Mistress wielding the cane. I simply must have a good caning myself again very soon...

Take care all and see you soon
*hugs and kisses from tina*

48.hard.cane.strokes.-
Uploaded by chiseblog

New spanking film site: Redstripe Films

Talking about films, I just learnt about a new exciting spanking film site, Redstripe Films. It looks very interesting and also features some more mature women being spanked and punished.

If you like seeing the girl next door, cheating wifes and mature women being punished I am sure this is something for you. Do check out their galleries.

A good otk spanking is always a great start

Hello there,

I hope 2009 has taken off in a great way for you all. Why do I keep on ignoring this blog when I actually enjoy writing and sharing my thoughts? One of the best things about it is the intreraction with you. It's so inspiring and many times exciting. That is the beauty of a blog, I think. It is not just a diary but a continous exchange of thoughts. This is always something enrichening.

I just got a comment from 'Anonymous' out there in blogosphere and I thought I may as well use it for a new blogpost. 'Anonymous' asked me a few things:

As a real hardcore BDSM woman, what are your favorite equipment and where do you buy it? What would you recommend?

Well, I really don't see myself as a hardcore BDSM woman. The hardcore bit is not essential for me as it varies so much with the circumstances and the mood I'm in. Actually, a good otk firm hand spanking works wonders for me in most cases. But sometimes my excitement gets so intense that I just need to go further and my lust is triggered by more pain. I don't really want to recommend anything as everybody's situation, preferences and limitations will be different. The important thing, I feel, is playing safe and be very aware of each others reactions. Plus having a profound respect for each other. I feel that dreams and fantasies are a very good starting point and when you and your partner can talk freely about your fantasies you will be off for a good start.

Also, have your preferences evolved through time and what was that like? Did you e.g. start out with handcuffs and ended up with caning? Was it more like spanking -> spanking with a belt -> caning & flogging?

Yes, my preferences are evolving all the time. I am always curious and eager to try new things although I have very definite limits. Actually, I was doing self punishments long before I started playing with somebody else and I think most of my advancements into harhser punishments were made by my own hand. A definitive turning point was when I discovered the beauty of a thorough birching and I soon realized that I simply could not carry it out efficiently enough by my own hand. Using birches and switches (or rather letting Master use them on me) is one of the things I love best. This has to do with something else which perhaps is the closest I'll come to having a fetish. Although I love dressing up, doing make-up and so on for various role plays I don't really have any fetishes as such for clothes, accessories etc. But something which I love is having vivid marks on my body after a session. This excites me so much... feeling the hard, sore welts which make me very reluctant to sit down, admiring the scars and whipmarks on my body in front of the mirror... it adds a dimension which I hardly can explain. But I find it very exciting and I frequently masturbate in front of the mirror several days after a session, getting extremely aroused by the sight of the marks on my body. I see these as marks of love and one of the joys of being whipped and trashed very hard is knowing the session will bring such wonderful marks... mmmmmmmmm

What is the most hardcore you have ever done?

Well, I really don't know what to answer to that. I find it hard to pick out one special session. I have been flogged, caned and punished in various ways countless times in addition to the punishments I have inflicted upon myself. But then I don't look upon it as hardcore or not - it's just a matter of what works for me and for us at any given time. Then surely the sessions may become very hard.

Thank you, Anonymous, for yor kind comments on my blog and do keep coming back. I would be very interested to know about your own experiences as well as others visiting my blog. What is it that turns you on? We may well give each other new ideas and like I said, I am always eager to try new things.

One thing which always works for me is a good otk spanking and it is always a good start of a harder session. A girl who gets spanked quite a lot is Niki Flynn - a famous spanking model. Do check out this gallery to see her being spanked acting as a cheerleader.

Another girl who regularly gets her bottom tanned is Amelia Jane Rutherford. Check out her great blog and click the pic to view one of her new galleries.

There are several films of these two girls getting spanked and punished in various ways. Do check them out at SoundPunishment.