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 ;-)

Breanne – a true Texan NHPS!

Ever heard about NHPS before? No? Well, it stands for Nympho Humiliation Pain Sluts and believe me, this sweet Texan redhead surely fits the description extremely well. If you check out her daily assignments posts at http://michaelalexanderstories.blogspot.com/ you will understand why.

Breanne surely is one of the most exciting friends I have made for a long time in cyberspace and like myself she is constantly horny, a painslut with a never ending desire to experiment and experience new heights. She was kind enough to let me interview her and so I am now very proud to present this farmer’s daughter from Katy, TX, in the good ol’US of A.

Yes, I live on a farm. Actually, I’ve pretty much lived here all my life, except for the four years I was away at college, and even then I was only about forty five minutes away from home. The farm belongs to my parents. Dad inherited it and it has been in the family since before the Great Depression. We’re small and we are mixed use. Half of our land is good grazing, the other half is good for agriculture, so we do a little bit of both. We have a small herd of cattle, about fifteen horses, goats, a few llamas, and somewhere out there is a stupid emu which I can’t catch and my dad bought off a fellow rancher a few years ago to “try out”. On the agricultural side we do mostly soybeans, but we rotate crops every once in a while and handle corn, cotton, and last year, when dad got a burr up his butt, kale. Who the hell eats kale? I’m pretty much the only “farmhand”, which is why I’m not doing “Daily Assignments”, but more like “Once a week assignments.” For big projects we hire temp hands to help out, but mostly it’s just me.

Right, but this blog is supposed to be about sex, violence, sadism and other exciting things so let’s tone down the agricultural part of the story and have a closer look at Breanne Erickson. Who is she really? And, yes, I know you are wondering: how did she get to become a painslut?

To be honest, my interest in pain and humiliation first started after being introduced to the whole BDSM world by my best friend. We were fifteen and I was a frequent over night guest. Kari’s parents were separated and not yet divorced, and Kari had found her dad’s collection of BDSM videotapes. Real VCR tapes! Since her mom was out line dancing, Kari and I snuggled down in the living room, and watched several that evening. I was glad I had a blanket cause I was um… rather taken with the whole thing. We made a habit of watching the tapes over the next two months or so and it became obvious that I identified more with the girls being tormented, while Kari was intrigued by the whole dominatrix thing. Then one night, again by ourselves, Kari held out our two favourite tapes and told me to pick one. Not to watch, but to act out. That night was the first time I had ever been tied down. Kari whipped me, though not hard or anything, and I got screwed with a variety of vegetables from Kari’s fridge. It was awesome and I was hooked.

You get the picture? Breanne tells me that sex wasn’t really a part of her life until she got about twelve. Her mother’s romance novels didn’t do much for her but eventually nature found its way with Breanne and she started to do some self-exploration. She actually lost her virginity to a hairbrush at thirteen!

Today Breanne is a beautiful woman of 25, 5’4/1.63, 117lbs/53 kilos. Officially, she is 36-24-34, with a B sized cup. She is generally playful, a little sarcastic, sometimes moody, but usually pretty positive. She’s also an early riser, usually getting up around five in the morning and usually in bed early. No wonder… you can have a lot of fun in bed mmmmm

As for self punishments these are often an integral part of Breanne’s daily assignments and so she has become pretty used to doing it. Yes, she even does it without anybody ordering her. She often uses clamps and ice on herself. Plus the occasional rubber band. One of her biggest favourites is being whipped but she admits it’s quite hard to do right as you can never spank yourself hard enough (or so she thinks). So she prefers a helping hand… Which makes me want to recommend the use of a sjambok (further details in an upcoming post) or a birch… but maybe birch trees are not so common in Texas? Anyway, these are perfect for whipping yourself and believe me, they do pay big dividends. ;-)

Breanne is also a very productive and exciting writer. She is very modest about it but do check out her blog at http://michaelalexanderstories.blogspot.com/ and her stories on http://www.michaelalexanderstories.com/ and I think you will agree with me that she is something special. She got in touch with Michael Alexander who was starting up his website and he asked her to join as a co-author. Yes, she does get paid for her work but as I understand it this hasn’t sofar really made her a rich woman. But, what the heck, her parents pay her for taking care of the farm, as well as giving her room and board, so she doesn’t really have many “expenses”, unless you call purchasing condoms in bulk an expense…

Breanne’s family are aware of her bisexuality but her actual sexual activities are unknown to them. She has learnt the hard way not to be too open about her sex life since the day a guy with whom she had been doing cam sessions turned up at her and her girlfriend’s apartment and wanted her IRL. They had to call the cop to get him out.

Are you getting curious about this girl? Do check out her story Riding The Wooden Horse at the free story archive at http://www.michaelalexanderstories.com/sub_pages/free_archive/ridingwoodenpony/ride1.html and I am sure you will agree with me that she is indeed somethin’ else. She tells me she would love to live the life of 'O' for real and would even accept the brand.

Breanne’s Daily Assignments is a regular feature of her blog and she has told me that she will gladly accept an assignment from YOU, my dear blog followers. This is provided the assignment does not clash with her preferences and it should also make for good reading. But I am sure you can think of many ways to punish this lovely lass at a distance. Her limits are no blood, no pee or scat play, no children, and nothing that will get her arrested (within reason). She adds:

I also like to make sure everyone who proposes an assignment understands that I’m REALLY doing these things, so they have to be realistic. So if you assign me to “screw three hundred guys”, I’m going to have to negotiate a little about that. I also am allowed to nix things based on medical reasons. See, the nice thing about being a submissive is that we are really the ones in charge. We can always say no. We just don’t want too!

Do you want to dominate sweet Breanne and give her an assignment? Please send a detailed description of what you want her to do IRL and I will forward your messages to her instantly. She will report about her assignment in her blog (and hopefully mine). And do become a VIP member of the Michael Alexander Stories for more great stories from Breanne and MORE!

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...

Sinful tina is lusty and longing...

Has it really been that long? My latest post is from January 11 this year and despite my abscence I see that each week about the same number of visitors comes here. As I can't see who you are it makes me wonder if it is my loyal friends coming back again and again in the hope of see some sign of life from me or if it is new visitors who have found something of interest in my blog. Generally, each visitor seems to spend several minutes here so I must have done something right :-)

My friends, I feel guilty for letting you down all the time. There really are no excuses. If you visit my blog and expect to find new content the least I can do is updating it now and then. After all it is a labour of love and believe me, I do get very aroused many times from writing my blog posts. To easen my guilt a bit I started using the riding crop on myself a few days back and the thought of my faithful visitors made the strokes very vicious and hard ones. My thighs and bottom are covered with welts and I am black and blue... and horny! Seems like each spring the desire to be whipped and punished takes over me and I have continued to add to all the welts and marks on my body by using the riding crop on myself each morning. I always start slowly first and make long intervals between each stroke, then increase the tempo and finally I am whipping myself like in a frenzy, like I want to whip the Devil out of myself! But whoever it is who has taken control of my sinful self he is there to stay.

If there is any comfort to you I give myself several hundreds of strokes with the riding crop each and every day now and it does hurt. It hurts terribly! I whip myself and build up a tremendous heat within me, until I simply must let go and flow with the eruption. I masturbate like crazy and come again and again. When I come to my senses I put the riding crop away for later use and then I can start a new wonderful day, striped and welted as I should be.

Lately I have been doing roleplays with people I have met in various chat forums. I get very aroused by being a victim of extreme tortures and punishments but my limits are very clear: no kidsex, animal sex or scat. Neither do I understand the point of amputations and mutilation - it's a complete turn-off to me. But some scenes can be so exciting that I feel like I am becoming a part of it in real life and hardly know who or where I am afterwards.

One scene which has been occupying my mind very often lately is that I am a prostitute who has seduced a wealthy man and his wife is furious and wants revenge. Through her connections she has had me imprisoned and sentenced to public floggings. She oversees each flogging and the muscular man who whips me really does a great job. Now and then the cruel woman urges him to whip me harder and he often doesn't stop until I hang limp in my shackles, my body covered with welts and bloody scars. The most exciting thing is the woman's vicious smile as she watches my flogging and it will be repeated again and again as I am flogged each fortnight. Thousands of hard lashes will leave permanent marks on my body. After the flogging I am so weak I can't stand up and I am taken to the prison hospital. When I am back in my cell I can be used freely by anyone who wants me and the cruel woman often visits me at night to torture and humiliate me even further. I am continously raped and the rough sex drives me to countless orgasms each day. I am turning into a painslut who desperately needs to be tortured, raped and humiliated each day. Often there is a long line of men and women standing outside my cell waiting for their turn. When I have finally received all the lashes I shall be branded publically with a red hot iron so that I will wear the woman's personal mark for the rest of my life.

This sort of fantasies fires me extremely and it gives me a lot of inspiration for writing stories. If only I had the motivation, the self-discipline to get further and complete the job. But instead I allow myself to fall under the influence of procrastination and so the wheel starts spinning all the slower until it finally stops. That's the reason why I may be away so long at times.

Anybody out there who have some good advice how to overcome the procrastination once and for all? Because this is what I really want. When I write, fantasize, interact with others and when I am punished IRL or do it myself, then I am indeed a hot lusty girl. I would really want it that way all the time. But how? Life isn't always easy.

Another thing that turns me on is pictures of women being punished and used. Like the one below, for instance. This single drawing can build up a scenario in my mind for an entire book. So why is it that I haven't already completed my second book as there are just a few chapters left to write? It feels like now is the time to do it. The working title is 'The Devil's Daughter'. Would you like to buy a copy?

Deep passionate hungry kisses from tina xxxxxxxxxxxxx

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.

I am now registred at The Slave Register

PS this slut is now registred at The Slave Register and you can see my profile at http://www.slaveregister.com/p/tinaslut/

If you go there you will see that I and my Master have a very special wish... do you want to join in?

Welcome!

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

Please punish me hard, Master!

I feel your strong yet senstive hands gently sliding down my back as our lips meet and I close my eyes, for what reason I don't know. Our tongues meet and start sliding in and out of the others mouths while I tiptoe and curl my leg around you, shamelessly rubbing myself against you while our French kisses are getting deeper and more passionate all the time. My blood is boiling with desire and as Í feel your hands sliding in under my short skirt and cupping my buttocks I am moaning with lust. Raw, pure lust. Yes, it's happening again. My passions are taking control of me and there is nothing I could do to stop it even if i wanted to.

You draw up my skirt and exposes by buttocks, gently caressing them, pinching, slapping them lightly... then the scene takes on a new direction. Your kisses become more aggressive and demanding and you move down my neck, leaving vivid sucking marks in my flesh. Oh, how I love this. We would never enter into vanilla sex and this is just a starter. But I realize that before I can be released from all the excitement building up within me I shall have to suffer at your hands. From putting sucking marks on my neck and shoulders you begin to nibble my ears, my lips, down to my stiff nipples, then your nibbles turn into harsh bites and you are sinking your teeth into my flesh, without drawing blood but leaving vivid teeth mark. Oh, please bite my nipples again... harder... you can read my mind, I know that... yessss, now you are concentrating on my nipples and while you bite one you pinch the other between your thumb and forefinger, pulling and rolling it, squeeezing harder... mmm I feel like oing crazy from the intense pain but just want more... my moans are of passion and desire just as much as pain... please, bite me harder, torture me, yes, now the areola... your teeth sink into my breasts and I love it... don't stop, please...

You drag me by my ear to the shed. The door is closed and you force me down over the trestle. You strap me tightly to the trestle drawing the straps so tight they cut into my flesh. My ankles and wrists are tied to the foot of the trestle and I am bent forward with my taut bottom sticking up for maximum exposure and impact and my head down with my hair hanging before my eyes. My legs are wide apart and I feel ashamed about the glistening juices down my thighs.

You choose a long heavy stick made of pure Swedish spruce. The bark has been cut off and as this has been done with a knife the surface is jagged. I fear this dreadful punishment tool as much as I know that I must have it. When I am tightly strapped to the trestle you brandish your ferocious weapon, swishing the stick through the air. Even one single stroke will leave me screaming out loud and begging for mercy while I will still be begging for another one, harder please. The stick is very hard and the impact is almost paralyzing, a dull pain which keeps on spreading through every nerve in my body. It leaves huge hard welts and easily penetrate the skin. I know that you will not spare the rod and that you will lay on the strokes with full force. Oh, how many days will I have to lay on my stomach after this session?

- Tina, you know why you are being punished?

- Yes Master... because I am a wanton slut who is ruled by my pussy and my wicked thoughts. Please punish me hard and show me no mercy.

You raise your arm, take aim and I brace myself for the first vicious stroke, knowing that I will get my reward and my release when I have gone through my ordeal.

I love you, Master...

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...

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 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

Caned by my Master

I knew I had it coming. For several days I have masturbated like crazy while watching the video in my previous post where a cute blonde girl is caned severely by two very strict Mistresses. Oh, how I love this video and what dreams and urges it has evoked within me. Yesterday, Master spanked me very hard and I came again and again when lying over His knee, the stinging paddle and the heavy hairbrush making my poor globes sore, swollen and bright red. But it was going to get worse. To get me in the mood before posting the video Master trashed me severely with His heavy leather belt on my already sore bottom and my thighs so I had to stand up while writing my post. He whipped me savagely with the belt for about twenty minutes and after the trashing my poor bottom felt like it was double its normal size.

But He didn’t stop there…

Master was just as excited about this video as me and we knew we wanted to do it ourselves. He was going to cane me to stop me from talking back. Only I had no intention of stopping – the pain would just increase my obstinate behaviour.

We arranged it all like in the video. Like this girl I walked towards a chair and bent over, my palms resting on the seat. After a long spanking session plus hundreds of vicious slashes of the belt my bottom was really sore and the slightest touch of my bruised and welted buttocks was a painful experience. Yet I was going to be caned. I wondered whether I already had gotten too much and would not be able to feel the pain anymore. Also, would it really be sensible to go on?

This is one thing I refuse to understand. It is my body and if I get a kick out of being beaten and whipped, what’s the point of denying it? It doesn’t hurt anybody else. My Master is the most loving and caring person you can imagine but at the same time He knows what fires me and He wants to drive me over the top again and again. Maybe this is because we are thinking so much along the same lines. Not only do we share many fantasies but we also tend to identify with each others roles, understanding the feelings of the other part. Some would definitely say that we do go too far but I can assure you that this is a source of wonderful excitement for both of us.

Anyway. I bent over the chair and my glowing, swollen buttocks were exposed in their full pride. I heard the swishing of the cane through the air and the deep, comforting voice of my Master.

- Well, Tina, are you going to stop talking back?

- Never! I’m an independent free woman and I say what I want to say. There is freedom of speech, you know.

- You do realize that this attitude is going to get you a very sore bottom?

- I already have that. You can’t stop me from saying what I want.

- We’ll see about that. I will give you twelwe strokes and then perhaps you will think differently. If you don’t, we have the whole night…

I stood stubbornly silent, bent over the chair, sticking my swollen behind out provocatively. Once again I was lost in subspace, masospace or whatever you call it. This is a state which is so difficult to explain to anyone who has never experienced it. The closest I can get is comparing it to the state you’re in when you have had a morphine injection. A totally happy world, you feel safe and full of positive vibrations, seeing no problems whatsoever. You feel utterly relaxed and even if you do experience severe pain it just adds to your enjoyment. I knew that despite the spanking and trashing I had already got I needed more. Which is why I never had any intention of giving up my freedom of speech…

The hiss reached my ears as the cane struck and the sharp crack was drowned by my gasp of pain. In no way had the previous beatings deprived me of the ability of experiencing pain. Oh, how hard He struck! I really love that man because He beats me so hard… I was surprised that the strokes were delivered in a very rapid succession instead of letting the pain grow before striking again. But right now I wanted it, I was craving it! I stuck my bottom out even more and felt the sharp cane biting deep into the flesh of my swollen, tortured buttocks. After the twelfth stroke I was sobbing hysterically and when asked if I was going to stop talking back I just answered:

- Thank you Master for punishing me so hard. I need it and I deserve it. But I will not stop making my point…

- Tina, you are making this so difficult for yourself. Another twelwe to go!

The strokes of the biting cane were raining across my bottom, putting me in a world of an insane fire which was consuming my entire being, while at the same time I was craving more of this wonderful pain. When the caning ended and I could finally speak, I sobbed:

- I won’t stop talking back! Not even if you keep on caning me all night!!!

My tortured bottom was beckoning for the sting of the cane. I was wondering if I would ever be able to sit again, while at the same time I was obsessed by a strange fever, a longing for more and even harder strokes. I wanted to cry out desperately and beg Master to hurt me as much as He possibly could but I knew I didn’t have to. He knows the way I work perfectly well and would just go on caning me harder and faster. When he announced that he would now deliver 24 strokes in a row - and harder strokes at that – I felt like the happiest girl in the world.

As the strokes fell harder and harder, I rapidly stuck my bottom out to meet the stroke and let it sink home to the fullest, the cane being buried deep in my tortured flesh with each stroke. Our movements were perfectly synchronized and as Master struck harder and faster I also increased the speed of my movements to meet each stroke. After each caning he asked me the very same question and I naturally refused. He let me regain my breath but made sure all breaks were as short as possible.

He delivered the strokes in series of 24 each and very soon the welts of my bottom started to split up so I was bleeding. Oh, how wonderful to be caned so hard! I felt blood trickling down my thighs while the intense fire within me was growing all the time. After one session he let me kiss the now blood-stained cane and I did so, profoundly and with love. Love for my Master and for the wonderful cane which was cutting deep into my flesh, causing me a pain which was so extreme that I did hardly realize how I would survive it. At the same time I was floating around in subspace heaven, more comforted than ever.

I have no idea how many strokes I had got or how long the punishment had been going on but suddenly he didn’t ask whether I would stop talking back, nor did he announce any new session of 24 strokes. I knew we had reached the breaking point now. He was going to take me over the top. All of a sudden a fiery rain of vicious cuts of the cane started biting deep into my bleeding buttocks and I knew that he wouldn’t stop until he had conquered me completely. I lost all sense of reality, only being aware of the evil cane biting deep into my flesh while my juices were flowing down my thighs. I started frigging myself with one hand and suddenly I felt a hard grip around my hips while sharp teeth were biting into my ears and my neck, lips were sucking my flesh hard to ensure vivid marks. The blood-stained cane fell to the floor and I felt Him entering me from behind, thrusting hard and driving his hard pole as deep into me as possible. I screamed out loud from lust and I came again and again… totally madness, I felt like it would never stop. When He finally came within me we both fell to the floor in one mutual climax of extasy and for a long time we just lay there, totally drained of all energy.

I am lying face down while writing this, for obvious reasons. Master is rubbing my tortured bottom with soothing oils and nodding approvingly at what I am writing. The girl in the video got 180 strokes of the cane. I must have gotten several hundreds, in addition to the otk spankings plus the trashing of His heavy leather belt. But believe me, this was my most exciting experience for a very long time. I now realize to the fullest what a difference it is to suffer by my Masters’s hand, rather than punishing myself. When I had come to after the extreme climax, I begged Master to cane my pussy until I came. This he gladly did. I laid down spread-eagled with a couple of pillows under my bloody, swollen buttocks and this time he used a thinner, whippy cane – but oh, how wonderful it bit. He made me come again and again and I am so happy that He will be with me for some time now. Each minute is very precious to us and we are surely going to enjoy life to the fullest together.

*Hugs from a sore, naughty and horny tinaslut*

Here is a video which is very fitting for this time of the year. PainGate has loads of hard videos of girls being whipped, caned and punished severely in any way you can imagine. In this film it is Eve who is suspended, severely bullwhipped and punished by melting wax. Enjoy!

Tina in the dungeon

Hello there, just went out for a while... ;-)

Yes, I know: my posting have been highly irregular for a while. Of course I could keep on posting, ranting about what I do from day to day, but I suspect that you are here for a special reason, right? There hasn't really been much exciting happening lately but I'm sure it will be very soon...
I was really glad to see you popping in, Amanda. Actually, this is a girl who has no interest in this lifestyle whatsoever but still she seem to have found something in my blog. It's true, Amanda, you can really seem like any ordinary woman and yet live this secret life without anyone of your near and dear ones (or neighbours) knowing. That is also the reason why I prefer to keep a low profile as to my identity, sharing photos and so on. Unfortunately, I have seen examples of how subs have been displayed on the web against their will and although my Master would never do such a thing, at the moment this is the way it will be. But the thought of at least displaying my marks excites me and we will surely find a solution soon.

I have linked to you, Amanda, and I really like your blog, it's very cool. But keep in mind when visiting her that she is not at all into the things I am. Besides, her blog is in Swedish, although she writes very good English. Also, anonymous, yes, my Master allows me to "play with matches" and also cigarettes and even cigars, if they are used for the right purpose. Need I say that I am a non-smoker? ;-)Forgive me for escaping into my fantasy world for a while again but I just can't resist it. Will you come with me? Take care, until next time (very soon...)

tina

Tina’s masochistic wet dreams

I simply cannot help it. When I see some artwork of women being punished, I immediately identify myself with the victim, taking her place. Yes, so strong is this feeling that I feel like I am actually experiencing it in real life. I really become the woman that is being punished! I often dream about scenes like this and they are perfect fantasies when I masturbate. Here are some great examples.

Harem punishment. I am strapped tightly with my bare bottom exposed, sobbing from the pain of the strokes I have already received. The room is filled with the sweet smell of incense and soft Oriental music can be heard. The reason for my punishment is my failure when I was ordered to dance for my Master, the sheik. He was not at all satisfied and by a gesture he ordered me to be punished. He seems very indifferent to my punishment, not taking any notice of me at all. The huge athletic eunuch has just made a pause but he will soon redouble his efforts and strike so hard with the sharp rod that blood flows down my thighs. Another slave girl is checking out that I am strapped as tightly as possible, knowing very well that she herself can be in my position tomorrow. Very soon my screams of pain and the sharp cracks of the rod biting into my defenceless flesh will echoe between the stone walls of the palace.

In the hands of the Inquisition. If I only knew what they want me to confess. I would gladly do it right away to stop the terrible whipping. They keep on asking me questions and every time I come up with the wrong answer another hard lash makes me scream out loud. Yes, the ferocious whip sure makes me dance It seems like this could go on forever. I have lost all points of reference and I have no idea if it is day or night. The merciless whipping continues and the monotonous questions keeps on coming. Will it never end? After today’s interrogation I will as usual be chained up in the dungeon to be raped by all the men witnessing my ordeal, including the torturer.

Whipped in a brothel. I am a prostitute at a high class brothel owned by a wealthy woman with several contacts among the upper classes. I am being punished because a customer has complained to the owner about my services. Two of the other girls hold me while a third, the overseer, whips me hard using a heavy leather whip. Soon she will step back to be able to swing the whip wiuth full force and hurt me even more. This should teach me a lesson: to never ever again say no when a customer orders me to do something. Naturally, I will have to apologize to the customer after the whipping which he oversees and as a compensation, he may use me for free for one whole day. I would never dare to protest again, no matter what he wants to do to me.

Prison whipping. I have been sent to prison because of false accusations by the woman to the right and her man pays the warden to have me punished regularly. They both come to the prison to oversee the punishments and as you can tell by the look of her face, she is really enjoying my suffering. Often she whispers harder… harder… and naturally, the man whipping me obliges. He slashes bloody streaks into my flesh and after a whipping I can neither sit or sleep for several days. Fresh rods are lying on the chair, awaiting to be used. Little does the noble lady know that her man regularly comes to my prison cell to take advantage of my defenceless body, forcing me to do everything his wife refuses to do.

Whipped in the prison yard. Oh God, this is one of the most wonderful images I have ever seen! Since I discovered it, I have been mesmerized by it and I simply cannot lay my eyes upon it without starting to masturbate. There are so many exciting elements within this picture. First, naturally, the overall scene: the huge athletic brute of a man wielding the whip. The whipping bench which holds my body in position for the cruel whipping of my bottom and thighs. The man at the extreme left is a wardour and his wife stands beside him. You can imagine that he will take advantage of me as much as he can when we are alone in my cell. Please also take note of the woman studying me through her lorgnette. She seems very interested in seeing in detail what effect the whipping will have on my poor flesh. The stern looking man standing with both hands on his walking stick right in front of me is the judge who has sentenced me and he regularly witness all my whippings to ensure that they are carried out with maximum severity. He will not be disappointed. Naturally, I will be abused by him and many other men in my cell when I come to after the extreme whipping.

A severe public flogging. I am embracing the whipping post and my desperate screams and pleas for mercy adds to the entertainment of the crowd in the town square. The man with the robe is counting out the lashes and also urges the torturer to whip me harder all the time. As you can se by the bulge on the trousers of the whipmaster he is very much looking forward to be alone with me when the punishment is over and I have been dragged back to my cell. I was lead by a chain barefoot through the streets from the prison to the town square, with a heavy iron collar around my neck. When I have finally received the 250 lashes from the whip and the 250 strokes of the birch rod, I am so weak that I am totally unable to walk and have to be half carried, half dragged back to the prison.

Do you know of other pics like these? Please let me know.

This slut must suffer!

As Master is away again it is now up to me to take care of my daily punishments. Naturally, a good cropping is a good way to start the day. I stand barefoot on the floor and bend over a chair, smacking my buttocks with the riding crop as hard as I can. I have several different ones but I have found that this one stings especially good.

Whenever I get some time alone during the day I am anxious to punish myself. This cat I often use to whip myself on the back. To make the thongs sting better I usually wet them before I start whipping myself. Master often use it on my pussy to make me come. Below the cat is a horsewhip which is sort of a combination of crop and whip and very flexible and elastic, almost like a fresh birch rod. It bites very nasty and leave wonderful deep red stripes… mmmmmmmm

I have refined one of the implements I use a bit. Earlier this year I found a hard wooden paddle, or rather a bat, which is perfectly balanced for smacking myself very hard on the rump. But I was wondering if maybe I could improve it so it became even better. Finally, I fastened a coke cap on it as I thought that with each smack the sharp edges of the cap would be imbedded in my flesh and possibly even bite through the skin. So I tried it out. Yes, it hurt good and left a circular red mark on my bottom but obviously it did not stand out far enough from the wood to bite through my skin. So it was back to the drawing board.

Finally I added a piece of wood between the paddle/bat and the coke cap. To improve it even further I smeared the edges of the cap with tiger balm to make the sensation more intense. I took aim and after swinging the bat back and forth for a while I struck with all my might. To my surprise it felt almost as if the protruding part even eased the impact as I thought it was much more painful when I smacked myself with the bare bat. But in a few seconds I was thinking differently.

It felt like something was burning its way into my flesh and the pain was just growing all the time. When I looked at my bottom in the mirror, to my joy I could see a nice circular bleeding scar. Oh, how beautiful it looked… and how it hurt. So wonderful…

Master, you must use this innovation on me when you get back home. Please… do smack me real hard… mmmmmmm… love, tina