Would you dare to use the scourge?

The biggest problem is finding somebody who will go all the way. Over the top. Does this picture inspire you? Would you like to do it IRL? So wonderful to wear those vivid marks of love after a good trashing with the scourge. But do you have the courage to do it? Do you trust your ability enough to use it? A scourge can easily be made from some leather straps, some sharp pieces of metal and spikes. Each lash will leave bloody wounds. Will that frighten you - or will it make you want to lay on the scourge again and again, even harder? Would you dare meeting a woman who is actually begging you to use the scourge on her because she craves it? Make love to her after you have seen to her wounds. Will you work yourself into a frenzy as you see new wounds appearing all the time until her buttocks are covered in blood? What if she kneels before you, presenting a scourge she has made herself, begging you to use it on her? Would you think she is insane - or would you actually go along with it? Many people whip themselves to blood in religious rites but what if a woman wants you do it to her for sexual pleasure? Would you enjoy it?

Think it over. You may meet her tomorrow...

The whipping of Inmate 347 - beautiful blonde suffering under the lash

Just look into her eyes. Can you imagine her feelings at the moment? Is her mind filled with sheer terror and fear or is she maybe excited about what is going to happen to her? Is she yearning for the kiss of the lash upon her nude body? Either way, this beautiful blonde inmate is now in for a severe whipping. She is regularly whipped and punished and there simply doesn't seem to be an end to her suffering. This is Inmate 347, doing time at a Very Special Prison for women.

She is in the hands of one of the most cruel female wardens you can imagine. The warden will always see to it that her women are punished with the utmost cruelty and she wants vivid marks on their bodies. Just look at her stern face and you will realize that she is indeed a Very Strict Woman. A woman who is enjoying hereself immensely.

The warden oversees the whipping of this blonde beauty and all the time she urges the whipper to lay on the strokes harder. Her screams and the sharp cracks of the whip echoes between the stone walls for what seems like an eternity.

No. 347 can look forward to countless further whippings and you know, I suspect she is really enjoying it. I would definitely love to take her place... mmmmm

Do you want to see the entire video where Inmate 347 is getting whipped? You're going to love this one! Go to Whipped Women - and don't forget to tell 'em that tinaslut sent ya ;-)

Want to chat with this horny slut?

I just remembered that I do have a chat room on this blog ;-) So if you want to talk to me you're very welcome to do so. I'll keep it open for a while and try to remember to open it every time I check in. There is a link 'Enter my chatroom' in the right menu below the banners and after the Java applet has loaded you can just enter any name and profile you want. Then go right ahead and talk to me - I'm not really shy ;-) But please respect my limits: no kidsex, animal sex or scat. And if mutilation and amputation turns you on we're not speaking the same language... But apart from that: be cruel and be creative ;-)

Today I have been using the riding crop quite a lot on my thighs and buttocks. What a joy it is to smack myself harder and harder and raise swollen welts in my flesh. It seems like the more welts and marks I get the harder I need to smack myself when I start all over again ;-) Yes, real life is not too bad, either - but of course it can never beat being punished by my Master. I am longing for the day he gets back home.

Take care and enjoy your fantasies. Everything starts with a dream...

The risk of sub drop after a bdsm session

Just read a great blog post about 'sub drop' and this is something which is important to remember when you're playing. I feel that the more intense the play and the 'high' has been, the greater is the risk of a negative experience afterwards. That's the time when it is so important to be together, just Master and slave, devoting time to each other. Right now I am fortunate in that I am having Master with me for a while and after a session we always take much time cuddling, kissing and just relaxing together. Sex may have been a part of the session when it were at its height but when coming back to earth it's so wonderful just feeling the nearness of each other.

Master has never left me just after a session and I know He never will. Therefore I have never experienced the bad feelings of sub drop, either. But I can imagine it can be quite a negative experience and the aftercare is most important. Last week was one of daily canings and long periods of landing together afterwards.

How about 'dom drop'? Is there such a thing? Does it work in the same way? What do you say as a Dom? Have you ever felt bad after leaving your sub too early after a session? It would be interesting if you could comment on your experiences as this is an unknown world to me.

As for the blog post it came from the great Diary of a Kinky Librarian by Nadia West. Do visit her blog and say hello from me.

The caning of tinaslut - or How to overcome Writer's Block

A good caning is actually a very good remedy for writer's block. Just ask me! As you have seen I have neglected my blog for an unacceptably long time and that is not fair to those of you who are following my blog. But now that Master is home for a while things are getting different. Procrastination and inertia are dangerous enemies when it comes to getting things done and I know I have a tendency to fall back and become inactive at times. Yes, despite all the self punishments I have practised it seems I have a lack of self discipline at times.

That's where the cane can work wonders...

When you start on some project, like blogging, you are often very enthusiastic about it from the beginning and rarin' to go. And it can work well for some time... then the inertia takes over and it's like a roulette wheel going slower and slower until it stops completely. Then you need something pushing you back on track. If inertia slows you down, procrastination is most effective for stopping you to do something about it. But thanks to the cane and my beloved Master wielding it I have overcome those two obstacles.

This week I have been caned each day, two times a day. Instead of applying a specific number of strokes Master starts quite slowly and gently, then strikes faster and harder and before I know it the strokes are raining upon my bottom and thighs like a shower of fire. It's like a spanking machine gone out of control and it always make me desperate for more and my screams of pain are just as much begging to be caned harder and faster. The cane whips up unbelievable masses of endorphins and very soon I am simply high on it... just can't get enough. When Master finally lays down the cane I am so happy to fall into His arms... it's the perfect way of landing after this unbelievably intense trip into subspace (or should I call it 'painslutspace'). More often than not we don't have sex after a session - we are just as happy laying together and feeling the nearness of each other... Master's caresses, soft kisses and words have a soothing effect on me and I know he will be with me all the time so I can relax and feel safe. When my pulse has gone down to normal and I have landed he smears my welted bottom with soothing balm and I simply feel like a newborn woman.

Is this sane? For us it is very much so. The thing is that in a few hours we will both want to do it again. This is maybe not the classic bdsm relationship as it doesn't really involve punishment as such. The worst punishment would be denying me what I crave: a real good trashing. According to the book of rules a punishment is not a punishment if the masochist (=me) enjoys it. But what does it matter? Master enjoys trashing me and I can never get enough of it. Often I beg Him to whip or cane me and he is always happy to do it. Actually, it is Him stopping me most of the times as my hunger for pain is so intense that maybe it's good I don't have a spanking machine after all... it would probably be over-heated ;-)

Is it sensible to get caned again just a couple of hours after a severe caning which has left my bottom globes covered with welts? For me it is very sane. Some of he puffy hard welts on my buttocks sometimes split so that blood appears. I can stand for long periods in front of the mirror, admiring the marks on my body while masturbating... it makes me soo horny.

A side effect of these sessions is that inertia is washed away completely, I get eager and full of energy and immediately want to deal with many things that have been neglected - like this blog. Pain is for me a source of eternal energy which is accessible any time I need it. It can work when I am practising self torture and self punishments but nothing can beat the way Master punishes me - that is, if you can call it a punishment after all. For me it's sheer pleasure and I can never get enough of it...

Time to bend over for the cane again... mmmmmmmm please trash me real hard this time, Master... make me bleed...

Submissive masochist girl looking for a new Master

I was very glad to hear from my Facebook friend Erica the other day. For a very long time she had been absent and I had been wondering what had become of her. She told me she had been in a relationship with a Master who had after a year thrown her away and decided to substitute her with another girl, younger – and, as Erica says – prettier than herself. That surely must be a girl out of this world… I mean, if you have somebody like Erica who is totally devoted to you, why on earth would you want to change?

Anyway, Erica is now searching for a new Master. Somebody who want a long term relationship and will still be there in 20 years. She still wear permanent marks that the Master who abandoned her put on her body and she says that this has caused some to see her as ‘damaged goods’. The relationship was one including many severe punishments and Erica tells me that she was whipped with 12-50 lashes about three times a week, with whips, dog chains, knotted ropes, bamboo canes and so on. Often she begged to be punished but sometimes it happened that he went too far. Even as a true masochist, Erica has her limits. Before being thrown out she had to kneel before his new slave and Erica’s former Master told what the younger girl could expect, what his former slave could take and he showed her the marks on Erica’s body.

This is by no means a dating agency but if you are seriously interested in getting in touch with Erica and think that you share her ideas of a perfect relationship, please mail me at tinaslut@hotmail.com and I will forward your mail so she can get back to you. I sincerely hope that very soon I will be able to tell you that she has found her match.

Tina's punishments: The coke cap paddle is used again...

My dear friends, thank you so much for your input and the exciting things you want me to do in order to punish myself. I will certainly carry out your instructions and report about it here.

Michael in California gave me this order:
I saw that club of yours with the bottle cap on the end and I don't know if you know this or not but the bottom of the feet is one place that can cause a lot of long lasting pain so I was thinking you could take that club of yours and give yourself some good hard hits across the heels of your feet like the little pain slut that you are. Make sure you hit them hard enough to send the pain shooting straight up into your entire body. Go for 10 hard hits on each heel and 5 hits on your arches.

I did carry the punishment out and I did my best to smack as hard as I could with the paddle each time. However, although it hurt just after each smack it caused no lasting pain, neither did the edges of the cap penetrate my skin. This may have to do with the fact that the soles of my feet have been hardened because I love walking barefoot, especially on gravel roads and hot cobblestones :-) So although I did my best out of this it didn't work out the way it was intended. Maybe I just couldn't muster enough energy when smacking myself or the paddle is simply not suitable for this special sort of "bastinado". I can assure you that it worked wonders on my bare behind when I smacked myself with it mmmmmmmm. But this session wasn't exactly anything which will keep me away from the dance floor...

Thank you anyway for suggesting this, Michael. I am sure you will come up woth something that hurts even more soon... Take care.

Tina's punishments: Branded...

Yes, I have done it now. I am branded by my own hand. Believe me, this is nothing I recommend you to do if you are not very certain about it. There are certainly risks involved, one of them being the risk for infections. To minimize these risk I wore a mask over my face and rubbed the place where I would apply the brand with alcohol.

I branded myself on my right buttock when I was 18 years old which is some time ago... At the time I used a stiff piece of steel wire which I formed into a circular loop with a handle and heated it over a gas flame. I kneeled and stuck my bottom out and when the circle was glowing bright red I immediately pressed the "branding iron" as hard as I could into my flesh and held it there for several seconds. I still remember the sizzling and the smell of burnt flesh. I was surprised that it didn't hurt more than it did but I have later learnt that this may have to do with damaging the nerves in that area. This mark has faded over the years and is now history - the whim of a silly teenage girl. However, what I did this time was a bit different.

I was to brand my left breast with a heated fork, a few centimetres over my nipple, with the tines pointing towards my nipple. As I had no gas burner this time I heated the fork in the oven at 275 degrees and when I thought it was hot enough I pulled it out, holding it with a thick cloth and immediately applied it to my breast so it should keep the heat. This hurt a lot more than branding my rump when I was a teenage girl and the pain shock made me jerk back and the fork got out of position. But it did make a good contact with my skin first... I first applied the base of the fork and quickly pressed the tines into my flesh like you do when mashing potatoes. The brand never penetrated the skin and you could then maybe say it's not exactly "for real". But it surely hurt for a very long time and the area swelled up to be bright red. I was constantly watching it for infections, cleaning it with alcohol and keeping it in open air. Now, a couple of days later, the brand is darker and I never experienced any blisters, nor any infections.

What it did to me was to increase my sexual lust to a degree that I felt like going out of my mind. Yes, I could not stop masturbating and I hardly slept at all during the night. The pain from the burn in my breast would keep on increasing my arousal all the time and I am not ashamed to say I haven't been so horny since I don't know when... I did this with the approval of my Master who is at the moment abroad but we keep in touch on a daily basis so I can report about new self punishments and marks in my flesh.

That's it for now but I think you can expect me to be a lot more active blogging than I have been for a long time. My lust is growing continuously and I am longing for pain... will keep you updated. Hugs and deep passionate kisses from tina in Stockholm.

A very useful tool for many purposes, not only eating... mmmmmmmmmm

Pliers - the tools of lust

I am standing in front of the bathroom mirror, making myself ready for an important meeting. For a while I was considering the lipstick which I call ‘whorish red’ but I realize it wouldn’t be appropriate. All of a sudden I am overwhelmed by lust. It can happen anytime and often when I am in a hurry, like now. I am expected at the meeting in less than 30 minutes and should be rushing out. But what do I do? I become itchy and sultry and realize that I must ease the pressure in one way ore another. My nipples are stiff and erect,protruding through the fabric of my top. Right away I realize what I must do. Like in a trance I walk away to a cupboard and come out with a pair of flat jaw pliers. I stand in front of the mirror and take off the top to expose my b cups with its hard nipples. I close the jaws slowly around my left nipple and gradually apply more pressure, twisting and pulling. All the time I am looking into my eyes, focusing on them. Just as if somebody else was guiding my hand my grip of the handles hardens and as my nipple is crushed between the jaws I feel the pain building up to an extent that it becomes too much. But I still press the jaws together, flattening my nipple. Tears are flowing down my face as I crush my nipple harder and harder between the jaws of the pliers. For a while I ease the grip just to press the handles together again, harder this time.

When I go over to my right nipple my left one is hurting like an open wound and the excrutiating pain spreads through my body. I want to make my right nipple hurt even more and press the handles together so hard I feel my wrist starting to shake. I have to bite my lips to endure the pain and my eyes are blinded by tears.

When I finally rush out my nipples are hurting extremely and every move I make is very painful as my crushed swollen nipples presses against the fabric of my top. I am lucky to immediately catch a bus and I will be arriving at the meeting just in time. I chose a seat in the back of the bus and I have my briefcase over my lap. Nobody can see what I am doing and I just must rub myself. Can I get an orgasm before I get off the bus? I simply must relieve all the tension that has built up within me. Surely the people at the meeting will feel the scent and realize what I have done? But do I care? I simply cannot resist. I have to bite my lip hard to prevent me from crying out as I come and my panties are wet. Surely it must be obvious to everybody?

I put the pair of pliers in my bathroom cupboard for further use whenever I feel needy. Naturally I am longing for you to use them on my nipples and other parts of my body. Not to mention that I am just dying to feel your teeth closing around my hard erect nipples, sinking into them, making me scream from pain-filled lust... mmmmm please bite me real hard...

Masochistic Women’s Group

Thanks to my friend Mo Tard who took this great pic with Seffana at the Castle of Abadie. More about her on http://www.seffana.net

Here I am again! I hope you are all well and that this is going to be our greatest year sofar. Yes, let’s make it great! ^

I have been using Facebook for a while and although my activities there have been spasmodic it is a forum which has a big potential for creating contacts and it is good for interacting with others. Facebook does have its negative sides, though, especially if you are into our very special interests.

Anyway, I recently started a Facebook group, Masochistic Women. If you are a member of Facebook you are welcome to join. Any member can upload photos, videoclips and so on and discussions are especially welcome. Do check it out. And please accept my apologies for my long absence. Another good reason to have me punished… kisses, tina.

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

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

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.

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.