Tension

“Am very tense. Can I cash in that spanking later?”

I sent him the text while on the Tube home from work. It was late. I was, indeed, pretty damn tense. Just as I’d been the night before – I’d walked home from the station with a desperate need for a release only to find him half asleep.

“Aw shit. I was going to ask you if you could spank me.”

“Oh. I could still spank you!”

“No, it’s alright. I’m a bit done with today, anyway.”

Sleep helped that night. But as I shifted in my seat on the Tube, uncomfortably sitting with the stress of the past few hours, I knew it wouldn’t this time.

So I waited until I got signal. And I texted him to say that I was running late and stressed and spank now yes please thank.

His response?

“Yes!”

This time, there was no brain static. No sneaky anything spiral catching me while I was walking down from the station. There was nothing but a desperately nagging need for some sort of sexual release. It was the first time in a while I’d felt my libido focus like this.

It was nice.

It continued to be nice, from the first sting of the crop on my soft bottom. Like a welcome hiss of cleansing pain.

Slap by slap, I felt myself relaxing. Sinking under, deep into my body. Surrendering and letting the tension wash away while my skin and body throbbed contentedly.

I was needy after that spanking. Very, very needy. And for what felt like the first time in ages I managed to communicate what I wanted from him, to him. I wanted him to make me come, plain and simple.

Or, you know, not that simple because I still have no idea how he managed to do it. It involved the faux-leather tongue of the crop, my clit and his fingers doing something that I still get shivers about when I think back.

It was, for want of another word, gorgeous. The kind of orgasm where you forget things like how shirts work and what your name is. The kind that, and I shit you not, actually gave me sex flush.

The kind that made me go “I GET TO WRITE THIS ONE, I GET TO WRITE THIS ONE.” because #sexbloggerlyfe

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Step In The Right Direction

It’s a Saturday night and I’m parked at our desk, scheduling the week’s tweets for Dreams of Spanking. Half of me is sweating on how to phrase the tweet for a particular scene, half of me is sweating because it’s a flurry of hot as hell spanking action dancing in front of my eyes (and a little bit of me is also sweating because of the stifling and indecisive mini-heatwave going on). I get that familiar wriggle, that one where my body’s temporarily wrested the control from the weevil in my brain and is making me very aware of the spark of a need catching fire. The need to be spanked, to feel his hand and hear the sound and let my body luxuriate in the feeling that it is being listened to.

Pleasingly, and surprisingly, it’s my body that keeps hold on the controls. It may or may not have something to do with the fact that, at some point, I hear the front door thump shut and see Irish Ladd jump in the back of a taxi with his mates who’ve come to pick him up for a night out. Empty room to the left of us, empty room to the right. Stuck in the middle, with plenty of opportunity to not give a single fuck about the noises being made.

So I grab that opportunity by the collar and strip off, leaving on just my t-shirt. I drape myself over the bed, telling him as best as I can what I need right then.

And he obliges gladly. He starts off slow, but I love a good slow start. Plenty of time to build up, really get the heat flowing. And it flows, setting my body alight in a way only he can. Making me wet in a way that I’ve not been for such a long time, opening me up and rendering me giddy with the need for an orgasm.

“Wow, you’re… you’re really wet!”

“Really?”

“Yeah… amazing…”

I can tell this time’s different from the way my voice is no longer controlled, measured. In its stead is a natural huskiness, a pleasure-cottoned slur of sound and words.

“… Can you get another finger inside me?”

He can.

He can, without effort, get three fingers deep. Three fingers which I pulse around as I frig myself to an orgasm so thunderously gorgeous, so wet and sloppy and wonderful that when he tells me that my come’s drenched the sheets, I’m ever so slightly amazed at remembering how good it feels to be completely in my body and out of my brain.

Heck, I’m still amazed right now, as I’m writing this. Amazed, and more than a little bit giggly. Step in the right direction? I can but hope…

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Neighbourly

I’d asked him, just before I left for the shops to get something I’d managed to forget to buy twice already that day (ceterazine, because my subconcious really wants me to break out in an angry field of hives, apparently).

“Will you light some candles and make the room a bit… sexier while I’m gone?”

Or something of that ilk. As I walked to the supermarket, weaving through the aisles until I’d found the allergy pills I’d been looking for, I pondered on our sex life from as of late. The other day, after a joyous and wrecking wet orgasm given to me by his skilled hands and fingers, we’d (for the first time in a while) fucked – without me so much as having an inkling of Bad Shit™ on the brain or outside interruptions mattering for all of it. This, of course, felt like a glorious thing for me. And with that in mind, I felt in fine fettle as I opened the door, to be let in to a dark, candlelit room by my naked boyfriend, hiding behind the door so as to not be seen by the people who I’d just let in to the house.

They were old friends of the Irish guy occupying the room next to us, friends who’d come down for the weekend to stay over. During the course of the next 48 hours (and to my knowledge, still as I’m writing this post) they in turn met up with some more mates for a pre-drink session in the empty room downstairs, went off clubbing and slumped back in at 3.30 the next morning, sat in his darkened room shooting the shit for most of the next day, left for another party sesh and arrived back at the same time.

And it was as those mates trickled in, loudly and very much present, that I asked my boyfriend to massage me, before spanking me with one of my thick knitting needles.

Now, I’ve mentioned countless times before (or maybe I haven’t, in which case – forgive me for thinking I had mentioned this and also, the more you know) that I’m kind of daftly afraid of people hearing us having any kind of moments of sexual pleasure. Our room is quite securely locked, so there’s no way anyone can just walk on in. Nor are the walls as… well, cardboard as they were in our previous place. I can hear murmurs – and occasional snores – but there have not been moments where the walls have vibrated because someone’s watching a Vin Diesel movie somewhere in the house.

There are only two things that could be of worry to me here – one being my own weird, twisty, turny brain. The other being our IMPOSSIBLY SQUEAKY BED.

Funnily enough, it was the first, not second one that caught me in this case. And it was entirely down to the fact that, whenever we’re engaging in any kind of spanking (which is rare, exactly because of this – and also many other factors) I become hyper-aware of noises. Specifically, the noises being made by hand hitting flesh, reverbrating around the room. I have absolutely no idea if anyone can hear the slightest from outside, but the idea that someone may hear us is enough to scare the bejesus out of me.

So, imagine being scared by the idea that one person currently in the vicinity may hear you and your boyfriend having spanky sexy funtimes. Now, imagine about ten people consistently meandering up and down the stairs, lingering outside your door and having merry conversations while you’re trying your very best not to freak out and to enjoy what’s happening to you. But you can’t really enjoy it because you slowly but surely become convinced that, somehow, everyone in the street can hear you.

Got that mental image?

Good.

Now imagine the same, but with the spanking replaced by my muffled groans into our duvet as he uses the Doxy on my clit in a way that still makes my head spin when I think about it.

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The Big Dreams of Spanking Top Five

Still from Instructed - (c) Dreams of Spanking

Unofficial Spanking Month is drawing to a close, and with it The Big Dreams of Spanking Review. All together now: aww. But before we spank July out and rope in the month of August (*facepalm* I’m so, so sorry) I’ve got a couple more treats for you.

This instalment of The Big Dreams of Spanking Review is in the form of one of my favourite things – a top five. I went through the Dreams of Spanking archives and found a couple of scenes, both more recent and from a while back, that I poured into a handy top five format for you all (in no particular order).

Bottoms up…

1 – Instructed

Starring: Pandora Blake, D

Runtime: 16:19

A collaboration between Pandora and renowned feminist pornographer Ms. Naughty, Instructed is the most explicit Dreams of Spanking film to date. No mean feat if you consider that Pandora is alone in a hotel room the entire time.

Pandora has come to a hotel for a dirty weekend with D, her lover – only D isn’t there yet. What is there is a letter from him, with instructions for Pandora to carry out while she’s waiting for him. D reads out his instructions on voice over, and we watch Pandora carry them out – from stripping naked and fondling her breasts in front of the mirror, to giving herself a fierce spanking with a wooden clothes brush, to some explicit anal play with an incredibly intense climax to finish.

I’m not going to lie; I came pretty hard myself while watching this scene – my first orgasm was, in fact, in synch with Pandora’s, fact fans. I replayed the final five minutes of the scene about three times… for reasons.

2 – First Date

Starring: Andrew Shada, Nimue Allen

Runtime: 14:10

Andrew Shada’s fast become one of my favourite Dreams of Spanking performers, and in this scene he and Nimue (who is also amazing) take about two seconds to win me over as they’re playing a couple on their first date – discussing Classic Who on their way back home.

Nimue’s got a confession to make to her date; so she comes clean to Andrew about her love of spanking. I can kind of imagine coming out as kinky to your date is something that would make the nerves flare up in you; luckily, Andrew isn’t fazed and is game to give Nimue a turn over the knee. It’s a perfect example of one of my favourite essentials of sex: communication. Nimue encourages Andrew and voices what she wants every step of the way, and Andrew in turn ask her questions (“Like that?”, “Harder?”, and such) and listens to what she’s wanting.

And by the time Nimue hands him a heart-shaped paddle, he’s practically a spanking expert. Favourite moment of the scene though? Him tenderly rubbing soothing lotion on her bruised bottom.

3 –  Schoolgirl Slippering

Starring: Thomas Cameron, Pandora Blake

Runtime: 13:22

Another blog favourite, the legend that is Thomas Cameron, slips into the skin of a strict headmaster in this scene. The premise is that Pandora’s in trouble at school (again) for running an unlicensed bar on the school premises. At the prospect of getting expelled, Pandora gives excellent lip, which delights me greatly. Thomas offers Pandora the chance of staying in school, provided she takes a spanking; something which she’s really not pleased with.

So twelve whacks from the slipper it is. Thomas is, as usual, great as the strict but fair headmaster; and when Pandora swears at him, he doesn’t hesitate to put her back into position and raise her skirt for a second and considerably harder go. It’s… a pretty effective way to show you’re not messing about, it is.

4 – A Ghost Story

Starring: Amelia Jane Rutherford, Pandora Blake, Thomas Cameron

Runtime: 15:01

This is a scene that’s a bit different from what I’ve watched so far. It starts in the present, with Amelia arriving for a night at an old B&B run by Thomas. She comments on the fact that it’s an old building, and as y’all know, old buildings can sometimes mean things going bump in the night…

Indeed, as soon as Amelia drifts off to sleep, things get terrifying. Closet doors creak open and shut, and Amelia slips into a black and white dream of the past. Thomas, in Victorian garb, is seen cold caning a very reluctant Amelia on the bed. After a few seconds, it’s Pandora who’s on the receiving hand, as Amelia dreams about horrible and unfair punishments. Amelia then reappears, in both the past and the present, as her horrible nightmare continues and the closet doors keep slamming open and shut…

It is not a scene for the faint of heart. Thomas looks utterly terrifying and Pandora and Amelia look utterly terrified. And then the closet doors open, and Amelia is confronted with a hysterical Pandora, asking to be let out because she was left there to die. And then she disappears…

Amelia wakes up the next morning, content in the notion that it was all a dream. That is until she sees the welts on her arse…

5 – The Honey Trap

Starring: James Darling, Pandora Blake

Runtime: 17:51

I full-on LOVE James Darling. He’s one of my favourite queer porn performers, and to see him working with Pandora is a massive delight. In The Honey Trap, Pandora is hell bent on giving James a proper punishment, as she’s caught him out messaging and meeting up with other women for femdom. And she’s on a mission to make it perfectly clear to James that she’s more than capable of dishing out punishments herself.

Oh my god, this entire scene is hot as hell. Pandora is a treat, serving just the right amount of sleaze, and James takes everything she gives him like a pro. Pandora hissing “You think you deserve to come, slut?” at James made me a bit wobbly in the knees, as did the end of the scene where everything turns out alright and James and Pandora share a passionate tumble.

I mean, I can’t really say more than that, because I’m in dire need of a cold shower and a bit of alone time. I’ll be in my bunk.

 

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Enjoying Dinner with Tess – Kay Jaybee is on the blog

cover for Kay Jaybee's Take Control

Spanking month is languidly drawing to a close -although I’ve still got a couple of really cool things coming up. Including my guest today, who is quite possibly one of the queens of BDSM erotica in the UK. Y’all know the wonderful Kay Jaybee, author of amongst,other things, the Perfect Submissive trilogy, The Collector and Making Him Wait. She’s got a new collection out, called Take Control, from which she’s sharing an excerpt.

Over to Kay!

cover for Kay Jaybee's Take Control

When I began to write erotica almost ten years ago I concentrated on writing short sexy stories, particularly short kinky tales of the BDSM persuasion, many of which include one of my most favourite things- a good spanking!

There is something salaciously delicious about communicating, through a story, the relinquishing of power required by the target of any spanking session, not to mention the flush of power and responsibility of trust taken on my the spanker.

Published by 1001 NightsPress (the home of my incredibly kinky courier novella, Not Her Type), my latest anthology, Take Control: Stories of Male Domination/Female Submission includes one of my favourite spanking stories, Dinner With Tess.

Here’s a tasty extract for you…

…Jon’s laughing voice echoed through the hallway and into the kitchen, as Tess went to greet his friends.

‘Here she is,’ Jon’s arm swept around his girlfriend, ‘Tess, meet Jack and Ed, my friends from the club.’

‘Hello,’ she spoke clearly, trying to cover her shyness. As she shook their hands, Tess couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable by the way they looked at her. It was as if they were assessing her in some way, and she suddenly felt very aware of the shortness of her denim skirt and the thinness of her white cotton blouse.

‘Most lovely,’ Jack nodded approvingly at Jon.

‘She’ll do well’ Ed’s eyes x-rayed Tess as he spoke.

A private shiver shot up Tess’s spine. Do well for what?

Jon ushered the new arrivals into the living room, whilst Tess gratefully fled to the safety of the vast kitchen. She was so preoccupied by the image of Ed’s hungry expression, that when Jon quietly came in and touched her shoulder, she jumped in surprise.

‘Meeting good?’ Tess asked as she checked the progress of the vegetables.

‘Excellent, we’ve organised a photography competition.’ Jon ran a hand under his lovers’ skirt, and stroked a finger between her naked legs. ‘Good girl, you remembered the no underwear rule.’

Tess looked towards the door in alarm. ‘Jon, don’t. Someone might come in.’

‘So?’

‘So, I don’t want them to see.’

‘Why not?’

‘Jon!’ Tess’s face coloured, but her flesh responded instantly, as his expert finger rubbed against her clit.

‘Bend over.’ Jon patted one of the kitchen stools.

‘What?’

‘Do as you’re told.’ Jon’s face darkened, and his voice took on the dangerously soft tone Tess had quickly leant not to disobey, ‘I don’t want to raise my voice and attract attention do I.’

Tess shook slightly as she bent over the stools padded seat, aware that despite her fear of discovery, her treacherous body was getting turned on by the situation.

Jon flipped up her skirt, and began to smooth Tess’s tight arse with his palms. Grabbing a wooden spoon from the worktop, he tapped it against her backside, soft at first, then harder.

‘Jon, stop it,’ Tess, hissed at him, as she squirmed against the stool, her attempts to rise prevented by Jon’s other hand pressing firmly into the small of her back. ‘Jon, please!’

‘Come off it Tess, you know you like it really.’

‘But Jon, our guests, what will they think?’

‘They’ll think,’ Ed spoke from the doorway, a knowing smile across his weathered face, ‘that Jon is a very lucky man.’

Tess froze, her heart thudding against the stool. She knew in an instant that Jon had planned this, probably in collusion with his friends. Her face flushed and goose-pimples of uncertainty shot across her flesh.

Jon was speaking to Ed, but the sound of their voices seemed to be coming from very far away. Tess felt sick and excited at the same time. Confusion ran around her brain. Her chest was tight with erotic expectation, but this didn’t square with the humiliation that Jon, the man who claimed to care for her, was causing.

Ed came closer. Jon passed him the spoon, ‘Perhaps you’d get her warmed up for me whilst I see if Jack is ready to proceed.’

What the hell did ‘proceed’ mean? Tess gulped back a cry as Ed hit the rounded spoon against her rump, his large sweaty hand, replacing Jon’s cool skin. She didn’t have time to think, all her efforts went into not letting tears stream down her face, as Ed continued his work with enthusiasm.

‘Nicely tenderised?’ A new voice cut through Tess’s concentration.

‘Yes thanks, Jack.’ Ed paused in his work, and slid a hand across Tess’s reddened arse. She flinched at his touch.

‘Enough I think.’ Jon pulled Tess up right. She hung onto him as the blood drained from her head back to her body. She wanted to say, ‘How could you? What are you doing?’ But a look at Jon’s face, at all their faces, prevented her.

‘Serve up the dinner; just three plates.’ Obeying his order, Tess, her rear still smarting from the recent assault, slopped the dinner onto the plates, without even registering that she was only serving food for three, rather than four.

‘Good girl. Come here. Now, as quickly as you can, we would like you to take off your clothes…’

****

If you’d like to find out what happens to Tess next, you can buy Take Control from-
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HYI8BHA

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00HYI8BHA

Thanks for letting me visit today!

Happy reading everyone,

Kay xxx
****

Kay Jaybee was nominated as the Best Erotica Writer of 2013 and 2014 by the ETO.

Kay wrote the The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, (Xcite, 2011-14), Making Him Wait, (Sweetmeats Press, 2012), The Voyeur (Xcite, 2012), as well as the novellas, Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man (2nd ed. 1001 NightsPress, 2013), Digging Deep (Xcite, 2013), A Sticky Situation, (Xcite, 2012), and The Circus, (Sweetmeats Press). She has also written the anthologies The Collector (Austin & Macauley, 2012 & 2008), The Best of Kay Jaybee (Xcite, 2012), Tied to the Kitchen Sink, Equipment, (All Romance, 2012), Yes Ma’am (Xcite e-books, 2011), Quick KinkOne and Quick Kink Two (Xcite e-books, 2010). Kay has had over 90 short stories published by Cleis Press, Black Lace, Mammoth, Xcite, Penguin, Seal, and Sweetmeats Press.

Details of Kay’s work, past, present and future can be found at www.kayjaybee.me.uk

You can follow Kay on Twitter- @kay_jaybee,

Facebook- http://www.facebook.com/KayJaybeeAuthor

Goodreads- http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/3541958-kay-jaybee

Brit Babes Site- http://thebritbabes.blogspot.co.uk/p/kay-jaybee.html


Kay also writes contemporary romance as Jenny Kane – www.jennykane.co.uk

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The big Dreams of Spanking review – Part Three

Thomas Cameron prepares to punish Andrew Shada

Dreams of Spanking month continues, and this time around, we’re getting wet. Now, I really like the combination of sex and water. There’s something incredibly enticing about a naked body, glistening with water, that I find seriously arousing. Combine that with a wet spanking, and you’ve basically won me over.

Luckily, Dreams of Spanking can provide, as they’ve got an entire tag dedicated to wet spankings. *flaps hands excitedly*

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One Hand is Not Like The Other – A guest post by A.M. Hartnett

Cover of A.M. Hartnett's Uncover Me

Unofficial Spanking Month continues, and hot damn am I ever excited about my guest today. I’ve been a fan of the lovely A.M. Hartnett for a good while now, and it’s a pleasure to have her here. She’s doing double duties today, both discussing her own experiences with spanking and promoting her awesome new book, Uncover Me.

The floor is yours, A.M. !

Cover of A.M. Hartnett's Uncover MeOne Hand’s Not Like The Other

It’s funny how I don’t remember the first time I had a bit of spanking action.

I remember the charge leading up to being spanked, the knowing that it was going to happen but not speaking about it. I had given him some cues that I remember. A gentle tap on the arse while I was doing dishes became not so gentle after a while. I must have said something or looked at him a certain way that prompted the sting to become a little more than just a tap.

The act of bringing his hand down on my ass was just one part of the whole dynamic of our relationship in bed. I liked it when he pushed me around a little, throwing his weight whenever it suited him and watching his eyes lighting up as he saw what it did to me.

Spanking wasn’t something I had done with any seriousness before, but not because I was a prude or scared. I’d just never come across someone who I wanted to spank me before, yet things were so immediately explosive between us in the bedroom and I expect that when the time came I must have either outright asked for it or he just went ahead and did it.

It could be that I’ve banished that first experience from memory like so many other aspects of that relationship when it ended. It’s gone. I don’t remember it. I remember it was good and left me breathless, because it always was, but as for being able to replay that moment in my head? Gone.

I do, however, remember the next time I had a hand come down on my ass. I remember it clearly, because I wanted to burst out laughing. It was a firm crack, but there was something missing. The fellow who had decided to give it to me wasn’t spanking material. By that point, his self-esteem issues hidden beneath a blustering braggart had taken the fun out of sex with him or even just being with him.

When I turned over and he gave my ass a crack, it wasn’t because it did something for him – it’s because he thought it would turn me into a nymphomaniac, because I told him I had been spanked and liked it, and he longed for the payoff, not the act itself.

I made a little “ooh” sound as to not hurt his feelings, then carried on like it had never happened. I don’t have the time or the patience for bad sex, nor do I have the patience for someone trying to engage in a little spanking with no passion for doing it.

So now I’m careful when it comes to letting a man know what I want. I wait. I study him. I become keenly aware of who he is, not just in bed but out of it, too. I don’t have any special relationship with whatever device is giving the bite on my arse. It’s the hand, and the body connected to the hand, that does it for me. It’s the relish in his eyes when he feels the sting in the palm of his hand. It’s the swagger that comes after. It’s the victory written all over him. He has to love it just as much as I do, and not merely see it as a means to merely get me wet.

“I always look forward to what A.M. Hartnett is going to say next. This is the truth. Whether in an email, a blog post, on Twitter, or in one of her erotic stories, I am always curious to see what Hartnett will come up with. She’s got me on the edge of my seat (in more ways than one)” — Alison Tyler, author Dark Secret Love.
A.M. Hartnett began writing erotica upon receiving what, at the time, she considered very bad advice from a career counselor. Since 2006, her short stories have appeared on the web and in various anthologies, including Kristina Wright’s Best Erotic Romance series and Rachel Kramer Bussel’s Curvy Girls.
Her latest book is Uncover Me, an erotic novella about a sex blogger fulfilling her fantasies with one of her readers, is now available. She will release her Carried Away series on July 31 from Mischief Books.
You can find A.M on her website, The Bewildered Writer. And you can follow her on Twitter where she tweets as @amhartnett.
And check out my guest posts tag for more guests!
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The big Dreams of Spanking review – Part two

Dreams of Spanking month continues!

One of the things I love about Dreams of Spanking is the varied range of choices on hand. Just browsing the keyword page makes me come over all “where the hell do I start?” – you can pick scenes based on the implements used, the genres (which run the gamut from BDSM over Victorian and Edwardian to scenes based on a true story – like last week’s Lady Godiva) and even the scene’s atmosphere.

There are also a couple of series on offer, made up of scenes with an overlapping theme. And because I quite fancied a jaunt into historical territory, I ended up watching Havelock’s Campaign, which is a must if you’re into the British Colonial era setting, military uniforms and petticoated wenches.

Oh, and spanking with a riding crop, of course.

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What I think about when I think about spanking

Bettie Page giving herself a whipping - via Google Images

Vintage screencap of Bettie Page, getting a spanking - via Google imagesAs I’m writing this, I’m sitting at a table I don’t know. The sounds around me are strange but extremely familiar at the same time. Not fifteen steps away are the electric roars of the train station, and in the background a very old episode of The Simpsons is playing while my mother half watches and half watches over me. It’s a situation that should unnerve me – after all, it’s miles away from home and my usual routine and usual life, and yet it is home and it is a routine and a life (albeit a temporarily adjusted one). But it doesn’ unnerve me as much as I thought it would. In fact, I like it.

I feel much the same when it comes to spanking.

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The big Dreams of Spanking review – Part One

Pandora wields her weapon of choice in Dreams of Spanking's Lady Godiva.

Welcome to what I guess you can safely call Dreams of Spanking month on Lady Laid Bare.

If you’re not aware of Dreams of Spanking, it is the brainchild of the utterly amazing Pandora Blake, feminist pornographer, spanking performer and blogger. I spent some time with Pandora recently, and it was basically one of the best things I’ve ever done, so I’m honoured to be able to review one of her passion projects.

(More after the jump.)

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