Whoring - my new career?

Have you noticed that the spring is advancing now? At least here in Stockholm it is and as always this time of the year you get lusty and eager. At least I do. I can't help thinking on my way to work thay maybe I should have chosen another career. What if I was now on my way for a day's work in a brothel instead? I'm positive I would make a great prostitute. A whore. Surely enough many women have ended up in this trade unvoluntarily and it's just a shame that so many are forced to do it against their will. But what if I made it for kicks and could earn some extra money in the process? After all, isn't working for somebody else really a form of prostitution? Would I enjoy it?

Yes, I think so. I am more or less constantly horny and wherever I am and whatever I do my thoughts seem to drift away in a certain direction. Sex and submission occupy a great deal of my thoughts. Many other women have secret fantasies about rape and I'm sure many also about selling their bodies. But what if it was real? How do you start? My mental image of it is not being a high class escort but rather a cheap whore whom men would just use to get their instant satisfaction. Yes, I think that would suit me fine. The brothel I would go to each day would preferably be in the outskirts of town, a shabby place where you can get sex really cheap. In most trades I suppose you establish a relationship with your customers but I would rather see them as faceless individuals who just want my sexual services and leave me just as soon as they have shot their load into me. Just as personal a contact as if I was being fucked by a fucking machine and naturally I would offer all my bodily orifices for use.

I'm not seriously thinking about giving up my present job (yet) but these are thoughts that do come to me on beautiful sunny spring days like this. What if Master allowed me to work in a brothel in daytime? Would it make sex a tedious subject for me, like my present job can be at times? I don't think so. On the contrary, I think it would make me even more aroused. You may have read my book The Love Of the Lash and although it's pure fiction there is a lot of myself in the heroine. Also, I know I am really good in bed. Maybe prostitution really is my trade? I really have to talk to Master about this... ;-)

Take care all and enjoy life to the fullest. I certainly do. xxxxx tina

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…

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

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.

I am a bad, bad girl

Yes, I am a really bad girl… and I deserve to be spanked. Not only that. I am so bad that I need to be flogged, caned and birched on a regular basis. No matter how many strokes I get I am in desperate need of thousands more. Despite all the marks that are already there, my flesh constantly craves more of the harshest punishments. It has been a long wonderful summer with many exciting days together with Master. Now the time has come for us to part for some time again but we will still be connected through the very special bonds that exist between us (not to mention the Internet, of course…)

Now I will be by myself again for a long time and it will be up to me to handle the practical punishments. I am really longing to start doing it again. Several new ideas for self-punishment are popping up in my head all the time and I also get many ideas from you, my beloved readers. Forgive me for neglecting you like I have done. I really am a bad girl and I need to be punished most strictly. Won’t you please come up with more suggestions on how you want me to suffer. Now I really feel in the mood to start blogging again – and trying out many new alternatives of self punishment.

I also want you to know that I recently failed in carrying out a punishment ordered by a reader. Yes, I failed. I will explain more about this later, not to mention how Master later punished me for my failure. Although he understood why I failed we both agreed that the most severe punishment was necessary to make this slut pay the price for her failure.

If you only knew how horny I am right now… as I imagine what I will be ordered to do to myself as we enter another dark season. Yes, darkness does something to me. It evokes a lust within me which I am unable to resist – and why should I? Also, I will be glad to hear from you and I love reading your comments. Please write a comment right away… if nothing else for telling me what a slut I am and how you think I should be punished.
´
Love,
your slaveslut tina

P.S. Anyone who happen to have any more pics from this series? I have no idea who the artist was. The girl was called Sheila and the artwork was sold as sets of cards by a mail order company from New Your in the 1970s (courtesy of Master).

Still alive, well and horny *blushes*

Forgive me all for having neglected the blog for so long. I know exactly how it feels: when you get used to reading something and one day it suddenly is not there, without explanation, of course you feel disappointed. Believe me, I have no intention of stopping blogging but I seem to have fallen into some bad inertia. Fortunately, Master knows how to cure that and he has plenty of reasons for punishing me right now…

Not that we really need any reasons for my punishment. As we both simply love it, it’s just so wonderful to do it whenever we want. I have strict orders to always have a riding crop ready by my bed and each morning I have to bend over to get a number of vicious, burning cuts from it. This always fires me and when we make love after the cropping I surely am a hot little slut and climax again and again. Yes, I guess “slut” would be the most appropriate word to characterize me. Sex is vital to me and when Master is not with me, I masturbate frequently, generally while dreaming of some hot fantasy.

Yes, I admit it, fantasies is something which turn me on very much but I don’t stop there. I have the urge also to live out my fantasies as much as possible and quite a number of them have materialized.

Very often my fantasies are sparked by images or writings. Like the wonderful artwork by the late great bdsm artist Robert Bishop. I would have linked to the site robertbishopart.com but according to Google, the site “could harm your computer”. Still, here are a couple of his drawings, which appeared in the book The Prisoner of Ismaul which is a very exciting story. Basically, the plot is about a suave, self-conscious secretary named Eve Trevor being abducted by order from a wealthy client of the company. She is tied, trained, whipped, tortured and brought to a foreign land, chained in a desert fortress, sold as a slave.

Mmmm… a scenario like that make my fantasies go completely wild and they are so intense and realistic that I am actually feeling like I am her. It is a marvellous feeling to be able to actually experience this, feel the punishment…

So wonderful… strapped to a whipping bench… with a cruel, muscular Mistress laying on the cane with full force. She is furious and whips me like mad… she wants the slut to suffer as much as possible… see to it that I cannot sit for at least a week and place a lot of permanent marks on my bottom… yes, I get what I deserve… this horny painslut must be caned extremely hard… I am a whore and I need to suffer… while my screams and sobs of pain mixes with the hiss and the sharp cracks of the cane against my flesh, I beg her to cane me harder… oh, please Mistress, slash bloody streaks into my whore bottom… give her what’s coming to her… I am so happy to be in the hands of the strongest and most cruel Mistress you can think of… when I am about to faint she pauses to catch her breath… wiping the blood off the cane… soon she will start all over again… mmmm you’re so fit and strong… please cane me harder, Mistress.. ooohhhhh… I need it desperately…

I am regularly flogged in public and it is my wonderful Mistress who carry out the punishment… near the whipping post is the man who has bought me, a wealthy sheik… after each flogging I am carried to his bedroom to be used by him… due to the severe whipping I am too weak to walk and my wounds will take a long time to heal… my Mistress always does a wonderful job with her heavy bullwhip… the lash always seem to hit wherever she wants it and I am completely lost in a crazy, wonderful dance of pain… mmmm whip me harder, please… make this cheap whore suffer like she deserves…

Rest assured that I am regularly punished IRL, too! But sometimes it's so wonderful to drift away into your fantasies, where anything can happen. Both I and Master find it very exciting to recreating fantasy scenes IRL and who knows what will happen tommorow. We both have the urge to break barriers, go over the top, on to new heights of ecstacy. Yes, it's a wonderful life... your slaveslut tina

Captive in the jungle

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STORY: The Devil's Daughter

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