Red Hot Chili Bottom

The end.

2010-05-05T18:57:00.002+02:00

No, I'm not joking. This may seem horribly abrupt and absurd, but this really is the end of this blog, if not of my kinky online existence or even my kinky blogging.

It hurts to put this beloved child to sleep.. but it's the right decision. Recently, I've created a new, german blog - originally because I felt that no matter how hard I tried, my english thesaurus would never be fully suitable to express my thoughts and feelings the way I wanted to. I felt confined, not only by this, but also by the fact that the person who started this blog is ultimately not me anymore.. I was a shy girl back then, head over heels in love with someone who wasn't worth it and full of fantasies I thought would never become reality. In the past time, I've grown, explored.. and increasingly outgrown RHCB.

So I've crushed the plan to blog on both spaces simultaneously (which would have been delusional anyways, seeing how I was unable to blog regularly on here..) and instead decided to start completely anew over at Hochseiltänzerin. I'm not going to delete this blog - it's an archive of how I used to be, after all, and nicely portrays my first kinky baby steps.. but it doesn't fit to me anymore.

Thanks to everyone who's read, commented or otherwise shown appreciation for my writing.. The ride's been good while it lasted, but now, it is time to move on. Farewell, my friends.

The kinky Cinderella.

2010-04-28T21:16:00.005+02:00

Yeah.. that's me. At least, that is how I feel - except for that my prince luckily knows who I am, and that I have my shiny leather collar instead of a glass shoe to remind me of that ball as I returned to my normal, yawn-inducing student life. Otherwise, I probably would have difficulties believing that the weekend really happened.. and the most amazing day was Saturday.

I was awoken by a certain someone demanding that I shift over and subsequently cramming himself into my bed. He then shamelessly took advantage of my tiredness and began kissing me, not being able to resist nibbling and becoming more forceful until I remarked that I would like to be able to breathe, after which he grinned and loosened the grip around my throat. After a quick shower, we stumbled to breakfast, after which he managed to get hands on a blowdryer for my still-wet hair - isn't he a hero?

Later that day after some sunbathing and him abusing my lap as pillow, many workshops dealing with kinky themes were held. Before that though, we did a tour through the bunker that was on the grounds - a proper, big one with lots of equipment and make-shift living space. I'll admit that I felt anxious though I tried to hide it - I cannot help reacting to my surroundings, and those were gloomy and disconcerting. Hence, I was glad that we didn't participate at the photo shooting down there.. Afterwards, me and Chris attended the "SM in extreme situations" workshop which was rather enlightening - for instance, I didn't know that the health insurance companies could demand higher taxes if they know you're kinky.

An unexpected highlight of the day definitely was being tied up by Chris in the bondage workshop - sadly, I couldn't admire the complicated web he was producing on my own back, but what Stormwind did with his girlfriend Kirsche looked gorgeous. It felt lovely to just relax into the sensations of being restricted artfully.. I will never claim again that I don't like bondage just for bondage's sake. And the slight burn I got on the right side of my face due to the evening sun was totally worth it.

My cheeky, mischievous spirit didn't take long to return, though.. after dinner, my personal bully made me accompany him outside with my hands bound on my back, playing evil tricks on me with half-closed hooks on walls, and I eventually abandoned my protests and settled into a pouting silence. That misled Garden (an impressive male top) to comment on how well-behaved I could be - promptly provoking me to step on Chris' foot in a silly impulse. And before I could figure out what he intended, he'd dragged me to the ping pong table and bent me over it. Oops. There went my decision to never play in public.. and I'm not even sad to see it part.

If the morning and afternoon had been memorable, the evening was unforgettable in comparison. The house had a sort of "lounge" in the basement - it was just a dusty room with old furniture and a bar. Normally, there was nothing special about it.. that rapidly changed though as it was filled with gorgeously and strangely dressed kinky people. There was just a certain atmosphere that made it seem like we'd been transported into a parallel world where power imbalances between persons seemed as natural as breathing. Then, the auction for toys and accessoires began, with Doddo doing a great job both at presenting the items and acting as test taker. I won't deny that I loved to watch her squeal.. another thing I couldn't have imagined a mere couple of hours before.

After everything had been sold (and some Tops had gotten a taste of their own medicine), the group dissolved slowly. We stayed and cuddled into a corner, enjoying the sight of several playing going on and engaging in some light-hearted squabbling.. until he dediced to fetch some things from upstairs. Instantly, I was pent up and slightly nervous as I waited - up till then, we had more or less spontaneously started (read: he villainously assaulted me) or segued into playing. Anticipation was something almost entirely new to me that evening.

And he didn't disappoint. An intense scene followed in the adjoining billard room in which I was properly introduced to the feather steel crop, though I could happily have taken much more.. the pain was incredible, and incredibly arousing. He then put me in the corner and did further nasty, humiliating things to me; I just fervently wish I knew exactly what happened when - the only real disadvantage of flying, I suppose. I do remember the single sensations with piercing clarity, though.

Then, late at night, I astounded myself by agreeing to shower with him together. Totally atypical for me, I didn't feel in the least awkward or embarrassed during that - it just seemed natural, like it was always meant to be that way. Obviously, the shower was accompanied with rough fondling, biting and kneeling..mhh. I never wanted it to end though water was running into my ear and eyes.

Sunday morning started not so bright and way too early after a short night in handcuffs, though we squeezed some cuddling in before getting ready to prepare breakfast for 90 people. He had the oh-so-hilarious idea to let me do my tasks with hands fettered behind my back. Hmpf. Oh well. I will grudgingly agree that it was amusing - and surprisingly accomplished most things with a little artistry. I even could drink my three cups of coffee by myself - go me. And I suspect we entertained the other helpers as well.

Sadly and definitely too soon, it was time for me to quickly pack my belongings together and depart.. in retrospect, the weekend seemed like two weeks of holidays, but still, it was way too short for all the awesomeness it contained. I wish I could have long detailed talks with all of the people I only managed to speak to shortly.. hopefully another time. Letting go of him was especially painful, though we both tried to be brave and I know that I'll have to learn how to deal with the separation in the long run. But still, I don't regret a thing - he's the most loving, most incredible person I've ever met.

Thank you for the time we had, for the many firsts I could enjoy with you - and see you in 9 days, luckily. I can hardly wait anymore.

My personal Roissy.

2010-04-20T22:12:00.013+02:00

Holy shit.. never before has a weekend had such an impact upon my life. It was totally unlike what shy, socially challenged me usually does, and I more than once asked myself whether I'd become insane as I hurriedly prepared everything for it.. but in the end, it was more than worth the trouble.

See, my dear readers, I decided Wednesday night that I would travel through half of Germany to attend the CT - a meeting of the SMJG, located in a youth hostel-like house, where the members could get to know the people they usually only talked to in forum and chat. I'd heard of it and knew that Chris would be there, but I at first didn't even consider it because the signing up was in January and I was sure I would never be able to get a place, popular as the CT is. But then, suddenly, magically, it became feasible - I was excited and scared, but I firmly ordered myself not to back out of it, no matter how crazy it seemed, and how horribly unprepared I felt at the prospect of meeting him not in a month, but 48 hours.

So, after two days spent with frenzied organizing, I was stuffed into a car with three kinky, hilarious persons I barely knew, and tried not to hyperventilate. Luckily, thanks to their antics (you should definitely try kinky travelling some time!), I managed to somewhat forget for a while that facing Chris was in the imminent future. However, that truth returned with full force as I sat with the other girls in the sunlight and saw him exiting the car in the distance. Instantly, my heart seemed to want to jump out of my chest, and I strongly wished the lawn would just swallow me - how could I ever have believed that that is a good idea? I was dead sure he'd be let down, and couldn't bear to see the disappointment upon his face.

Locked in my quandary, I was heavenly glad when a lovely person known as SevenSins online made the decision for me and took me by my hand, practically dragging me. Now, people who gag at schmaltzy romance stuff may want to stop reading.. the last meters, I literally ran into his arms and hugged him tightly, feeling my knees turn to jelly beneath me. He was so warm and tall and handsome.. I am going to blame the sun dazzling me, but I couldn't even look at him first.

My brain must have shut down into survival mode that moment, because the first thing I said was "..You're big." He merely chuckled while I felt like an idiotic teenager; then we kissed - or rather, he cautiously kissed me. I, already stunned, then slightly panicky discovered that I couldn't kiss. Thankfully, he taught me later that weekend, but at first, that made me even more embarrassed until I decided not to care anymore and enjoy the moment.

After what seemed like an eternity, we untangled ourselves from each other and walked towards the house so that he could check in. Unfortunately, one of the guys already around adressed him with a nickname I'd given him behind his back a few days ago, perfectly knowing that he wouldn't like it at all. Needless to say that he quickly put two and two together even without looking at my guilty face and marched me to a quiet spot, pulling my hair to force me to look at him and already making me regret my silliness with a few shiver-inducing words before slapping me straight in the face. I was shocked, mortified.. and undeniably aroused. He simply held me and stroked me after that first perverted moment, asking in a hushed voice whether I was okay, until I'd steadied myself enough to be able to return to the others.

The rest of Friday afternoon was filled with cuddling, him gleefully discovering the advantages of my long hair, talking to a lot of people and seemingly passed with a blur. Somehow, we soon ended up alone in the bedroom and laid down fully clothed, snuggling up close to each other. It wasn't long before he started becoming rougher, pressing me down with his weight and biting my neck in between kissing me. I half-heartedly complained; his merciless reaction to that was to pin my legs between his and smack my backside until I'd given in and admitted that I liked being mistreated by him.

The pain that he caused simply with his hand over my jeans - it was overwhelming and made the spoon that I used on myself seem like a mosquito bite. I'd always held back and hesitated to apply the full force, even if only subconsciously.. he didn't. And I loved it. Sadly, we had to pause our kinky intermezzo for dinner, but after we'd eaten and had a good time with others and I unsuspectingly followed him back upstairs, he grabbed me out of the blue and pressed me against the desk, giving me a few solid whacks with his feather steel crop (just one word.. ouch!) before coolly asking me whether I knew what that was for.

After I'd snorted and negated that, he enlightened me that he'd punished me because I had forgotten to put off my shoes at the entrance door like everyone was supposed to do. A part of me was outraged that he dared to hit me for something so petty, but at the same time, a delighted shiver ran through me.. I truly enjoyed being completely out of control and at the mercy of a sadistic tyrant.

I'll confess that the exact time evaded me.. but he did give me a collar that evening. I can clearly remember the moment, though - he forced me down onto my knees, brushed the hair away and fastened it around my neck, whispering that I'm his now.. sigh. It was a perfect moment, the kind that usually is unexistent in my life.

Cough. That was just a summary of Friday so far, but since this is shaping up to be a whole novel, I think I'll post about Saturday and Sunday separately - plus, I enjoy keeping people on their toes. For now, it is enough that you know I got my kink cherry popped last weekend, am more than happy because of that and head over heels in love with him.. what? I never claimed I'm nice..

(Re)birth of a submissive girl.

2010-04-10T03:50:00.014+02:00

So.. part two, prompted by a certain request. I'll be honest - I don't know even where to start with this. There's this huge tangled mess in my heart and head, and it's difficult to sort out.. but I'll try nevertheless. The only thing I know for certain is that I'm rapidly falling for him, and that there is nothing I could do against that if I wanted to.

I met Chris around two months ago in the chatroom of the SMJG. Frankly, when he first struck up a conversation with me, I even thought he was a funny, cute and likable girl. I had to revise the latter part of that impression pretty soon, but my opinion about his character stayed and was confirmed as we began to talk to each other regularly. Sure, he would tease back when I half-purposely was just a bit too cheeky, but I never thought he could be serious. How silly I was, thinking that he was way too nice to be stern with me..

Then, the breakup with Josh. Chris, as "just" a friend back then, was incredibly supporting and comforting, patiently helping me get through this self-induced chaos. And when I was ready to leave Mr. Douchebag behind, he cautiously pushed further, and as telephone and skype calls became longer, I gradually realized that he was not just a kind and trustworthy friend, but also a man (gasp! Who would have thought?). First traces of dominance, of playful and semi-playful attempts to obtain power over me ensued, culminating in a webcam session I'm unlikely to ever forget - he forced me to kneel before my bed after a fierce battle of wills.

I've felt .. some kind of submissiveness before, but what I sensed in that moment was something entirely new and even frightening. I felt small, utterly subdued, vulnerable, torn open.. and yet loved and sheltered. Before, I still had a fistful of control, though I perhaps didn't realize it - then, I had none. None at all, and I loved it. Even if I was too stubborn and proud to admit it to myself at first and I still struggle to do so now.

With Josh, it was kind of understood that it was little more than a sex game. We'd planned it out meticulously, and that I was able to decide quite a share of aspects, not to mention the fact that he just did it to please me, gave me security and reassurement. Now, I'm thrown off-balance, confused and crouched on the floor, my heart pounding wildly in my chest - as if I was an animal rather than a woman.

After that first evening, we spent exponentially more time with each other, and my Easter holidays turned out to be a series of days and nights filled with animated banter, intelligent discussions and tentative forays into the world of dominance and submission. Kneeling, optionally in the corner, eating off the floor, three excruciatingly painful minutes with clothespins, interspersed with little bits of verbal humiliation - it was chaste, by no means explicitly sexual. And yet, or perhaps because of it, he managed to touch me in a way I didn't know could be possible.

Recently, we had to face the inevitable reality that we are developing to be much more than friends and playmates, and after lots of talks (and silent fretting on my side), we agreed to meet soon. He's going to come in May..

Twenty-seven days left.

Wind - no, hurricane of change.

2010-04-06T03:06:00.010+02:00

I never thought before my life and my feelings for assorted persons in my life could change so much in almost four weeks. But mysteriously, they did, and it seems like I only nudged the first small stone and subsequently had to powerlessly watch the landslide unfold. Well, the stone is not that small, actually.. however, I never imagined it'd turn out to have quite such an impact.

See, my dear readers, I broke up with Josh on the 24th last month - though I loved him. I'd always known that it would be .. difficult for us to meet up, and I worked hard not to think too much about that fact, but try to enjoy what I had. But, somehow after attending the first munch, reality hit me, and all that this decision implied became crystal clear to me. I'd have sentenced myself to five years of insecurity whether we could really manage daily life together, five years of being alone and watching others being in love, five years of seemingly neverending longing with sparse visits in between, which would only be worsened after the first meeting because I'd then know what it was really like..

As soon as I'd thought about that, I tried to quickly push it away again to some far, grimy corner of my mind, but.. let's just say that I could have as well pinned that truth to my forehead. When I couldn't bear it anymore, I talked to him about it, hoping that he'd understand, at least partly, that he'd let me go. Snort. I would have received a more empathetic reaction from a fire hydrant. I won't go into the details of what he said, but it all too clearly revealed a gruesomely distanced, calculating, cold-hearted side of him I which would have definitely made me want to leave right there and then if I had discovered it someday.

Then, after I've cursed spending the last year and seven months on a robot, he managed to completely destroy any ounce of feelings I might have had for him with the statement that he was going to inherit quite a lot of money and had planned to book a flight on my birthday. Great. Thanks for that information, bastard.
In retrospect, I severely doubt the verity of this, but that moment, I was devastated, heartbroken. I would have turned back on my heels in that second if he hadn't put that wall of precise, knife-like cruelty up before.

But, since he did, I went without looking back. And I'm thankful I did.. because in the recent past, something utterly confusing and yet titillating has developed between me and a good friend who was there for me when I needed someone to annoy with my crying. I have no fucking clue why my heart seems to plan out a suicide mission in letting someone new in so soon - then again, Mr. Assclown made it more than easy for me to cut ties. The way it looks like now, I'll know for sure how things are between me and a certain someone in a month and a day..

(Yes, I'm indeed ending the post here. I'm just sadistic like that. And come on - did you really expect me to reveal it all at once?! That would be far, far too boring..)

An evening full of excitement, kink and laughter.

2010-03-18T19:00:00.009+01:00

Last Saturday around 7.30 pm, I nervously got on the bus to the city centre, clutching my purse like a weapon and glancing around me perpetually for people who might recognize me, for I was on a secret and rather dangerous mission.

Okay, okay.. I admit I made the last part up. I did not really become a CIA agent. However, going to a kinky munch and meeting perverts outside of the internet for the very first time certainly made me feel a bit like that. I'd found the munch on the website of the SMJG - a German kinky organization specifically geared towards people younger than 28.

The prospect that I wouldn't talk with people twice my age about my secret desires was reassuring, but still I was horribly antsy. Thousand worries were appearing in my head and refused to be silenced - What if they didn't like me? What if I failed to join the conversation and just sat around embarrassed? And who am I going to ask if I didn't locate the identifying sign - a plastic bone - in the pub?

At least, the last fear came true - the genius that I am, I was there way too early and scanned the tables without success. Close to panicking and feeling as though I had "I'm into BDSM" tattooed across my forehead, I turned around again to wait outside when suddenly a guy leaned over the balustrade. "Are you looking for a bone?" It took my brain a moment to process the information while I just stared at him like an idiot, then blushed and mumbled "Erm.. yes." Soon after I'd joined him and a younger boy and tried making some small-talk, the others arrived.

The first thing I noticed with a feeling of gratitude was that they all came in everyday clothes - at least, I wouldn't have to answer weird questions when one of my fellow students saw me sitting there with them. In the end, we were seven - the domly guy who'd adressed me, the teenager who turned out to be a Sub, a charming half-japanese Domme and her submissive boyfriend, an equally lovely switching couple and awkward, tomato-faced me. After the drinks were ordered and we introduced ourselves to each other (I'll confess that I usually hate that part), much light-hearted and silly conversation ensued.

I was amazed at how at ease they seemed and soon began to relax, relieved that they mingled vanilla topics among the kinky anecdotes - "Vanillas do know the terms Dom, Sub or Switch, do they? No?! Crap! I think I may have outed myself.." - so that I could participate without feeling like I have nothing to say due to lack of experience. Admittedly, I was momentarily gobsmacked and flattered when they complimented me on this little blog - I'd put the link on my profile at the forum of the SMJG, but I totally didn't expect them to take a look at it, somehow.

The time passed much more fastly than I thought was possible, and soon after two had to go early, the others decided to hang out at the nearest flat and invited me to come along with them, which I happily did. I would normally be more wary of stepping into someone's home a few hours after I met them, but while spending time with this bunch of amazing people, I'd strongly felt that I belonged among them. It was a bit scary, but also liberating to finally meet people who where just like me face to face as opposed to anonymously in the internet, and I'm glad I didn't chicken out of it at the last moment.

So, in case you're reading this, I'd like to say Thank You for welcoming me to your club of perverts. I'll most certainly attend again next month even if you hadn't threatened to spank me if I stayed away (insert big grin here).

Unexpectedly discovering the other side.

2010-03-12T02:38:00.003+01:00

This evening, I suddenly got into a mood to stock up my ~~wank material~~ collection of artistic erotica, and thus, I followed a link to the fetish portraits section of DeviantArt. After discovering that I'd needed to sign up to view the Bad Perverted Photography, I grudgingly did so and luckily was rewarded with true gems among all the pvc-leather-rubbery stuff I really couldn't care less about (to each their own, but few things are more off-putting to me than those clothes). Eventually, I stumbled across that gorgeous picture on the right and was fascinated.

As I mused over it, my train of thought roughly went like this:
"Mhhm.. that's a real piece of art. I bet the nymph is awaiting her discipline - I wish I were in her position right now. There's really something unusual about her.. the sharp contrast between her softness and the crude chains, her innocence and cuteness, the way she looks at the ground, seemingly afraid to meet her punisher's gaze.

How I'd love to pinch that nipple and see her face contort in pain, her eyes pleading me to stop.. Err. Wait a moment. What is this nonsense you're feeling, girl?! You're submissive. Sub-miss-ive. You don't daydream about inflicting pain on others, you receive it. Now get that insane urge out of your system and move on."

However, this strange desire to hurt her didn't vanish, no matter how hard I tried, and so, I was forced to admit to myself that I might have a dominant vein that has been slumbering inside me all this time. Now that it's awoken, I feel a bit weird, but I also understand better now why many Doms always claim that the act of swinging an implement in itself doesn't arouse them - it is all in the reactions. Watching someone stiffen at the impact and struggling to absorb the ache, hearing the little yelps and squeals slowly morphing into cries and begging, gently wiping the tears I caused off someone's face..

I'd love to experience all of these things and the feeling of power, of being in control that accompanies them. However, I already know for certain that if I get to let that smaller part of my kinky identity out sometime in the future, explicitly sexual things won't be happening (to me, at least. I quite like the idea of orgasm control..). Unlike my submissive side, my bossy side only craves the mental high, so to speak. Another reason is that I find myself mainly attracted to the idea of dominating female subs - as a friend put it very aptly, "women suffer much more beautifully".

Since my knowledge about those desires is so new, though, I won't try to gain experiences in that field now - I'd much prefer to slowly venture into that once I've had a healthy amount of sessions as the bottom part so that I've grown comfortable with acting my fantasies out and know precisely which sensations I want to evoke. Until then, I'll enjoy whatever my vivid imagination produces and shake my head amusedly that Julie The 100-Percent Sub turned out to be a switch after all..

Never let me go.

2010-03-09T14:48:00.003+01:00

Just a drawing I did for my Master's birthday last year, in lieu of a proper blog post since I cannot seem to get a structure into my tangled thoughts.. I must convince myself to study and write the damned paper now. Sigh.

Please, don't forbid me to look into your eyes.

2010-03-01T18:03:00.004+01:00

I've often read about that order being used in blog posts and stories, and it makes me shudder every time - not the good kind of shudder, to be precise. People often explain that it would create a sense of humility within the submissive.. but all the rule would induce within me is utter emotional disconnection, a feeling of being lost.

I need to be able to look into your eyes and hang on to the exquisite mixture of fierceness and gentleness as if it were my anchor, a lifeline I would drown without. And if the glow turns stronger, piercing me and telling me just what you are determined to do with me - when I blush and avert my eyes instinctively, futilely trying to seek cover, nothing thrills me more than your voice whispering in my ear with that certain rough edge.

"Look at me, slave", reinforced by a hand grabbing my chin and tilting my face upwards.. for a few seconds, my will rises and I scowl at you defiantly even though my knees already threaten to buckle. Of course, you always win at this little contest, and I soon find my gaze locked to yours, softening even further to your touch.. forgetting everything but you and me in this enchanted moment.

A letter to an attention-whoring celebrity.

2010-02-24T02:54:00.003+01:00

Dearest Madonna,

I understand that you're a famous bitch and would do almost anything to stay that way. Even if it involves selling your privacy and whoring yourself out in public, only to claim that the inner slut never existed afterwards and pretend to be, you know, an actual mother. Or something. It is kind of ridiculous that I am even writing this blog post. Since, as much as you loathe to hear that.. most times, I don't really care about your stupidity, your fake plastic-ness and your scandals. However, I do care when you're shitting all over people's beliefs and sexual preferences yet another time. Especially if mine are involved. Because this?

Is not okay. It is not okay that you sold a "book" (in lieu of a more apt word) consisting of a morbid crossover of myspace-profile-picture effects and scenes that encapture every stereotype about BDSM. It is not okay that you abused my sexuality, and thus a big part of myself, to create a public uproar, even more appearances in the tabloid, and, ultimately, strengthen all prejudices about kink tenfold.

Well, you'd probably ask me incredulously now what the big deal is. It is not as if all those opinions and murmured smatterings dropped out of the sky with your book, is it? And besides, you're not the first nor the last celebrity by any stretch to coquet with being daring and oh-so-mysterious.
Let me explain. Sure, there are people who are into wearing leather, rubber and pvc. Perhaps they even visit dominas or play in dungeons once in a while. What you fail to conceive though is that, and this is important, is just a percentage of the kinky folks.

It might shock you to learn though that there are people out there who do intense sessions in boring everyday clothes or even in pyjamas, complete with bedhead. It just so coincidentally happens that those "perverts" never end up in the mainstream media because they'd destroy the illusions of your average middle-class citizen. Of course, sexually deviant behaviour is outrageous and abnormal and totally only found among strangely dressed aliens! The elderly married couple next door, obviously still very much in love and flirting each day, is as unlikely to engage in such sinful actions as a blind slug.

Uhm.. no, not really. It breaks my sinister heart to see that such views still prevail in an otherwise rather open-minded society, and you, Madonna, did your best to ensure that they stick around for a couple more decades. Apart from having inspired many more "stars" to earn at least honorary mentions.. Congratulations.

With a crack of the whip for good measure,
A thoroughly unamused slave.

Eyes, Orders and a Wooden Spoon.

2010-02-17T22:38:00.010+01:00

Once upon a time in cold, wintry January, something outrageous happened in a young woman's bedroom in the early evening hours..

Eyes, Orders And A Wooden Spoon

A dark passion play in three acts

Dramatis Personnae

Master in his usual role as Evil Villain
Julie as Poor Innocent Victim
The wooden spoon shown above (which I decorated) as Implement Of Torture
Webcam, headset and laptop

Act One - Subduing The Protests

The butterflies had inhabited my stomach (and groin) for the past days, but once the day had arrived, the prospect of spanking myself while being controlled utterly by him seemed strangely surreal. In university, I tried to push it from my mind as far as possible, though the imminence of doom kept creeping back into my thoughts several times. Finally, the evening had arrived and he'd signed online, and after some normal talk (mainly to calm my nerves), we agreed to begin.

Trembling, I knelt down in front of my bed with webcam and headset plugged into my laptop and stared at the screen nervously, waiting for instructions. I didn't have to wait long - soon, I was bending over in front of the camera, awkwardly pushing my panty-clad bottom out. I was hyperaware of him being able to see me while I only had his voice, and concentrating on what he said proved to be quite difficult as my mind was alternating between "Oh my god, this is really happening" and "Have you become fucking insane?!".

After being made to present myself and run the spoon over my flesh, the dreaded sentence, uttered smoothly: "Slip your fingers into your panties and pull them down. Slowly." I had fully expected myself to struggle with that - what I wasn't prepared for though was the desperate urge to be good rising up inside myself. I whimpered, asking meekly if I absolutely had to. "Obviously. Would I be ordering you to do so otherwise?" Sigh. Unsuccessfully trying to block out the amusement in his voice, I obeyed, blushing as I could feel his eyes appreciatively studying the parts that literally no man had ever seen before.

Act Two - Putting The Slave In Her Place

My dearest Master apparently decided that he had played around with the scared mouse enough and it was therefore time to up the ante. "Raise the spoon, and smack your right cheek." I hesitated shortly, but obliged and swung the damned thing backwards, wincing at the impact. "Harder. I didn't say you should merely tap it." Cringing at the roughness in his voice, I braced myself. An "Ouch!" nevertheless slipped past my lips when I brought it down the next time, a fiery wave of pain spreading through my flesh. How could I have forgotten just how much of a sting wooden nasty things create?

The next minutes, only the sounds of wood meeting flesh and my increasingly vocal reactions to that reverberated in my bedroom. Unfortunately, the pain was soon superseding the awareness of my backside being on display to him to the point where I moved my fingers backwards to soothe the burn. His response was instant and predictable - "Did I allow you to rub your bottom?! Move your hands away. Now." Eek. And on the torture went, not without my fingers betraying me a few more times and myself subsequently ~~getting~~ giving myself extras for it. The moment in which he commanded me to spank my own private bits will be forever etched into my mind..

Act Three - Adding A Pinch Of Humiliation

Little did I know then that that was merely the beginning of the embarrassment he had planned for me.. Hence, I was rather glad at first when he ordered me to stop and sit upon my chair, facing him - presumably to cause me discomfort. I'm utterly devastated to say that this backfired; the smooth surface thankfully just cooled down my blazing cheeks. However, I soon was distracted from that relief by him sternly telling me to spread my legs; knowing better than to argue now, I obeyed after some initial hesitation (and a huge blush colouring my face).

"Now, take a marker and write "slut" on your left thigh, "slave" on the other." I gasped in horror as I could almost hear him grin maliciously; he couldn't be serious, could he? ..But of course, he was. I couldn't look at the camera once as I wrote with shaking fingers, and flustered as I was, I unfortunately misspelled, mumbling incoherent apologies and begging him to have mercy. Alas, he seemed to never even have heard that word; instead, he punished me by making me smack my inner thigh.

Other sinful acts then proceeded to take place which got me rather hot and bothered - self-pleasuring in front of his gaze, fucking myself with the end of the spoon, all of which culminated in my collapsing onto my bed, sweat-covered and grinning widely while slowly coming down to earth again. It's been an evening that has been exciting and ..erm.. enlightening in many ways, and I cannot wait to repeat the experience!

A quick sign of life.

2010-01-29T14:48:00.003+01:00

No, I haven't drowned, and I wasn't kidnapped or murdered either. I just ended up in the hospital a week ago - likely until Wednesday due to crappy skin, and as much as I'd love to tell you about the exciting and sexy webcam-related things that happened between me and Josh a while ago, I must focus on my recovery now. Sigh. So, until then, farewell. And yes, I know I'm an insufferable tease.

With love,
Miss Jules

Just a few realizations.

2010-01-12T22:22:00.001+01:00

1. Cheekily claiming that Josh wasn't intimidating to me anymore had been a mistake.

2. A thin string of rubber hurts a lot more than I'd ever imagined if applied correctly.

3. There definitely is a pain slut hidden inside of me.

All of these were made last Saturday when I was crouched on my bed, snapping a rubber band to sensitive body parts with his seductive voice in my ear. How I ended up in that position? Well, it occurred to us that we should maybe, perhaps take it further than just online roleplaying, and his genius provided the rubber band - a silent means to sting a small area quite feverishly.

First, I had somewhat scoffed at that idea; surely, what I was using to close my cereal bags couldn't be turned kinky? But then I remembered little boys snapping paper balls just with those little rubber bands quite effectively.. and was indeed proven wrong. A resounding "Ouch!" therefore was what reached his ears most times and no doubt caused him to smirk as he mercilessly ordered me which parts of my poor anatomy to set on fire. Obviously, that only happened after I'd had confessed my misdeeds and was threatened that I would be a sorry girl very soon..

I doubt it was as intense as a proper spanking (something I'll be able to compare soon), but it nevertheless left a lasting impression and made the masochist in me quite happy. Being an exceedingly considerate person, he also didn't overlook the submissive and forced me to turn on the webcam to look at him while I was disciplining myself. And just when I'd thought it was over.. "You're going to wear the rubber band around your wrist in the future, as reminder." Er. What? I mean, of course I am going to. Blush. He certainly knows how to play me like a violin - and I won't deny that I love it.

Reviewing 2009.

2009-12-31T18:45:00.000+01:00

My beloved Christmas songs still in my ears, I decided to take a look back on last year today.. and realized that that isn't easy at all. So much has happened - graduation, and then my life got thoroughly mixed up by moving out and starting uni. In fact, I think this has been one of the most eventful years in my life; also the year I felt most alive, most vibrant, most independent. I had been afraid of the future, wary whether I could manage standing on my own legs, and was mightily relieved to find out that I am actually quite good at it after I passed the initial hurdles.

This was also the first full year with my boyfriend at my side, again not without highs and lows, but incredible nevertheless. We've been through rough stuff and I am now even more convinced than a year before that he's my man, the one I can trust to keep my heart safe. We've grown so close.. I cannot imagine how I would be without him greeting me in the morning before uni (he does that even though it's in the dead of the night for him - isn't it awesome?) and being there for me in the evening. He's the most important person in my life and it is absolutely incredulous to me that we managed to build such an intimate bond despite the distance.

We've also, last but not least, delved more deeply into kink than I'd ever thought was possible, and I am now far from the anxious girl I've been not too long ago, thanks to him patiently guiding me to places I would have never dared to explore on my own. I am now looking forward towards becoming his submissive in real life more than ever - and I hope that will maybe happen next year. That is my only wish - I am not calling it resolution since the factors determining whether it could be possible are so unreliable. I am less than sure whether it will happen, but I'll do everything towards making this wish come true.

Merry kinky Christmas!

2009-12-25T20:43:00.002+01:00

I've had a silent period again, I know, but I still didn't want to be rude and, after an unfortuntately not quite peaceful Christmas Eve, wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. I'd prefer not to elaborate on what exactly has made last evening not exactly fun.. that doesn't belong on this blog. I just hope you had a better time, and will continue to delve into kinky Christmas fantasies involving birches and spankings in front of the fire. As I'll be quite busy the next days, I'm afraid you still won't hear a lot from my lowly self.. I promise to return back to a regular schedule as soon as possible, though.

Shamelessly stealing Graham's meme.

2009-12-12T14:49:00.005+01:00

I solemny swear that I am usually not the meme-y kind of blogger. Seriously. However.. I am in a desperate need to post something. Something remotely interesting, at least - no worries, I won't be regaling you with a questionary about the colour of my socks and such. But the fabulous Graham invented a rather original meme the other day which I shall shamelessly abuse to try to overcome my writer's block.

1. Tell us your Kinsey rating! (That is, where you fall, approximately, on the spectrum of sexuality, with zero being "only attracted to members of the opposite sex" and six being "only attracted to members of the same sex." Follow the link for the full breakdown.)

For now, it seems to me that I'm a zero. I do appreciate female beauty, but just as someone who is drawn to beautiful things and art in general - not in a sexual way. Then again, I'm still a virgin with no direct intimate contact, so who knows what I'll discover once I start to explore?

2. Spanking / BDSM "type" that suits you best (switch, top, masochist, grand-master-wizard, etc.):

I am pretty confident that I am a mixture between submissive and masochist, though more the former than the latter. "Bottom" doesn't feel entirely suitable for the cravings for humiliation I sometimes have - rather embarrassing, dark twisty things that no virgin should want to indulge in, really. Shame on me.

3. Favourite blog / site of the moment (kinky/spanking-themed):

Hmm. That is a hard one.. there are so many awesome kinky blogs out there! (From people who actually write regularly as well, and not once a month like me..) I'm choosing Graham, because I ~~envy~~ draw my hat before her ability to write thought-inspiring, fascinating posts even though she has almost as little action as me.

4. Favorite non-kinky blog / site of the moment:

Ask And Ye Shall Receive, without a doubt. I like their honest and hilarious blog reviews, even though I am too much of a wimp to sign up for being torn apart myself. They helped me develop a sense of how to blog, though, and they're warning anyone submitting their blog that a spanking may ensue. How can I not love them?

5. Latest spanking fantasy floating in your head:

Due to real-life stress getting in the way once again, my kinky libido has been a bit lacking recently, but I've found myself wishing to get a surprise bathbrush spanking in the shower. Of course, the particularly nasty part of my brain also hungers for a thorough cleansing by my Master.. mhhm.

6. Blogger you'd like to spank / be spanked by:

I'd like to be spanked most by my dearest villainous Josh, of course! Though, as I think about it, trying to spank him could turn out interesting as well.. if there was any chance in hell I could prevent him from escaping me.

7. Age when you lost your (consensual, adult) spanking virginity — if this has yet to happen, give us a prediction or goal!

I'd like to have my kink cherry popped around twenty/twenty-one by my special someone, but only the stars know whether that'll come true. I'm choosing to be optimistic for now, and will start jobbing soon to get some extra cash for a (horribly expensive) flight ticket next year or so.

8. Favourite literary reference (excluding spanking stories!):

Uhm.. can I use a musical reference, pretty please? Because some passages from The Phantom Of The Opera (which is based on a book, after all) are pretty damn hot. I know, I'm rather weird - oh well. At least, I am not the only one bewitched by it!

9. Strangest limit:

Now, being called filthy words during scenes absolutely turns me on - slut, whore, fuck-puppet.. yum. Especially if my boyfriend utters them on skype, in his sexy low voice. God help him should he ever use "cunt" or "subbie", though - for some reason, I am completely allergic to those words. It's a sure-fire way to turn an eager, aroused Julie into a very annoyed Julie.

10. Some Random Vanilla Trivia, in the grand tradition of memehood... Like, "what are you listening to right now," or "what's your favorite fruit," or anything similarly banal.

My favourite fruit is strawberries. And I have an inexplicable craving for sour peach rings right now. Must resist at all costs. Sigh.. I guess I will fail sooner rather than later!

Speak of the devil..

2009-12-03T22:55:00.002+01:00

Apparently I've been talking about kinky advent calendars too much around here, because this is what I discovered in a student magazine on campus today. It's supposed to be a "nude advent calendar".. yeah right. I snorted out loud and shook my head when I realized just what was displayed - I'm unsure whether it is a male or female backside exposed for punishment though. Any guesses?

Oh, also.. I hope you like the festive decoration.

A pre-christmas fantasy.

2009-11-30T22:02:00.003+01:00

I've been in a very season-y mood already, and besides from making silly Christmas stuff, I have also been getting in the spirit kink-wise. One idea my Master and my twisted mind came up with especially pleased me, so I decided to evolve it further and write a short story out of it:

No matter how hard I tried, I could not keep my eyes of it. It hang right in the middle of our kitchen wall, seemingly innocuous with little trees and baubles adorning the bags filled with cookies.. How sweet of my dearest boyfriend to have made me an Advent calendar, my friends giggled when he proudly showed them. Oh, sure - at first, I was touched by this gift as well, especially since he normally shies away from the oven like the devil from holy water.

I should have known he had ulterior motives right from the beginning, but only as the ominous smirk wouldn't leave his face after he'd hung it up Saturday, something began to dawn on me..
"Hang on. This is just a normal Advent calendar - no weird ingredients in the cookies, right?"

He shook his head amusedly. "Rest assured, the sweets are fine. You might find that the shapes I have used are a bit.. unconventional, though."
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. "Tell me."
A laugh was his response. "No, dear. You'll be a good little girl and wait until the first of December. And don't let me catch you trying to sneak a peek into those bags!"

My thoughts inevitably wandered back to the calendar the following days, and it was with some trepidation that I unknotted the strings around the first bag when December had finally arrived. After a bit of fumbling, I had finally succeeded in pulling the cookie out, and frowned at it in confusion: It was covered with chocolate, and looked distantly like a .. paddle?

Of course, the clever villain had second-guessed my bewildered look and enlighted me with a grin: "Oh yes, it is a paddle - a wooden paddle, to be precise. Which means that a certain Miss will bend over and take a stroke from a real one right after having munched the cookie version."

I gasped and stared at him in outrage even though my backside tingled in anticipation. "You can't be serious! This is just silly."
He merely chuckled at my protests. "Be glad it is only the first, then. Obviously, it will be twenty-four strokes at the end of this.. oh, and there are more severe implements lined up until Christmas Eve." A wink, then: "I just wanted to make sure my girl behaves and stays good, you know. I would hate if Santa Claus didn't bring you presents."

I blushed and groaned, accepting my defeat. This was sure going to be a very heated Christmas time..

P.S.: Josh has picked up the idea as well in his own blog and, never a man to do things half-assedly, decided to write a story with several chapters on it. Enjoy!

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you..

2009-11-22T03:31:00.004+01:00

The brand new blog of my dearest Master, who has finally decided he wants to give this weird kinky blogging thing a shot as well. You can find him at A Vanilla Villain; the design was created by me and him in a night filled with sweat and exasperation, but I am glad it is finally working properly. As for the sidebar and link bar content - it is still under construction, but should be completed within the next few weeks. The most important part though, his first post, is already published, and I encourage you to go and check it out.

The Juliebottom's hit list.

2009-11-19T02:46:00.004+01:00

Obviously, the supple ivory bottom that I'm blessed with hasn't had the chance of receiving much attention yet.

It's only been introduced to my hairbrush so far, and since the sensible part of my brain likes to be self-preservatory, it's been a fairly short meeting. That doesn't mean though that I haven't been daydreaming and making lists of which implements I would like to have tried on me.. though my opinions will probably change a thousand times again.

Generally, I prefer the idea of leather over wood, though the latter has its appeal, too - for me, leather is more sensual and sexual, while wood rather has a formal, punishing quality. Oh, and I didn't include my Master's hand in the list, since it is my obvious number one and odes about hands have been written by much more talented people than me. So, here are the top five evil hitty things with the most appeal:

1. Leather gloves - They are the junction of my beloved leather and Josh's paws; how could I resist? I love the mental image of a dark sadistic villain wearing them while teaching me a serious lesson, and picturing the smooth and yet strange sensations of leather-covered fingers examining me intimately..mhhm.

2. Leather/velvet paddle - I've seen that kind of paddle in an online shop and was absolutely enthralled. How I would enjoy being teased and tortured by the different sides of the implement - and if the velvet doesn't suit my tastes, I can always use it as clothes brush. (Just kidding.)

3. Belt - To me, it just screams "manly". I cannot help it - whenever I see a decently dressed man, I automatically check whether he wears one. This seemingly innocent garment is always there, always at hand, and thinking of the procedure of pulling it through the loops alone makes my knees go weak.

4. Cane - I'll admit that the stingy little devil has had a hard time earning this spot, but it's worth trying out to me just for the history and reputation it has. It certainly is the least "openly sexy" and most "disciplining" implement in this row, but it is all the more intriguing in the right situations.

5. Wooden Paddle - Almost the same punitive touch as with the cane; it doesn't help that Josh knows how to craft woods and has happily promised me a Board of Education with drilled holes.. gulp. Due to its stiffness, it also seems a lot more merciless than a leather paddle.. I suspect I am wrong with this assumption, though.

I wish I could do a kinky banquet with those five (technically, six) courses right now.. alas, as it isn't possible, I'll just have to wait patiently for the time to come.

Being a virtual outsider.

2009-11-13T20:31:00.004+01:00

I often feel like I am some sort of outsider to the kinky community.

Well, perhaps not outsider in every definition - I am glad to say that I'm friends with some lovely kinky girls, even if it sadly is only through hour-long animated chatting over IM at the moment. Despite that, I sometimes get the impression that there is an invisible barrier between me and everyone else, a barrier not only built of the geographical distance, but also the fact that I have no "real" experience yet.

I rarely participate at Bonnie's Sunday brunches out of that very reason - I usually feel an incessant urge to add that everything I say should be taken with a pinch of salt, because I don't really know - I might be horribly wrong, after all, and it would be very embarrassing. This same inherent hesitation often causes me to stay away from this blog of mine as well - for who would want to read pretty words about spanking and hot kinky fun when the person behind them is, in fact, a virgin?

All those doubts are so heavily dominant in my brain that I only recently realized they are just one side of the coin - it is true that I know nothing about the pain, the sensations of being restrained by rope or hands, even his breath washing over my skin as he whispers just how he is going to deal with an insolent little girl. However, I do know the butterflies in my stomach just before playing, the shame and humiliation of having to degrade myself to please him, the mindfuck and undeniable arousal even as I am treated roughly.. and feeling loved through all of this at the same time.

I guess that many instantly get mental images about fat bald men who can't get real play partners when they hear "online kink", but for me, it is what conjures up all of those emotions inside of me. While I do wish that Josh and me are able to meet in flesh sooner rather than later, I am also thankful that he's given me that safe place to experiment with my deviance, to slowly get used to the overwhelming "Oh my gosh, this is a part of me" feeling and to test out my comfort boundaries.

I would agree that online roleplaying is not for everybody, but it was the right way for dreamy, shy me blessed with a vivid imagination to explore my fantasies, and I definitely feel it has deserved to come out of the corner for stuff that is generally looked at weirdly.

Ta-daa!

2009-11-08T17:03:00.005+01:00

As you can see, I had an insane urge to redesign my blog again. Sigh. I do like how it came out though, except for the fact that I don't know how to fix the cut off font in the post titles.. I will try to change that, and I hope I'll succeed because I heart this font and really don't want to replace it (and do the header and navigation etc. pp. anew). If anything else doesn't work for you, let me know! And no, the girl in the header is not me. I am far too chubby to be able to draw myself!

The perfect cut.

2009-11-07T17:04:00.007+01:00

This amusing short story was written by my dearest Master himself, inspired by my bookshop-themed story. I shudder to think about the possibility of this very embarrassing and squirm-inducing scene happening somewhere in the future - let's hope he's forgotten all about it once the opportunity for it arises.

“The specials are roast duck with mango salsa, a London broil—“ the waiter began reciting by rote.
“A London boil, you say?” I queried. The waiter halted, his expression neutral at the rude interruption. “Yes, sir. Prepared with a—“ he began with little interest. Once again, I interrupted. “Which cut of beef would the London broil be?” The waiter answered from memory, not from understanding. “The cut is round, sir.” My eyebrows lifted slightly as my eyes met that of Juliane, my date this evening. “Round, also known as rump roast. Wonderful.”

Instantly, Juliane’s eyes widened. She now had an inkling of the trap she had inadvertently allowed herself to be led into. Her delicate features conveyed silent pleading, her palms turning up in unwitting supplication. With a wink, I continued. “This rump, is it tender?”
The waiter sighed, and muttered what sounded like “Amerikaner” under his breath before answering. “Extremely, sir. It has been prepared by massaging for hours to retain the juices otherwise lost by penetrating the meat,” he explained, oblivious to his role in this farce.
Juliane leaned forward and lifted a linen napkin to her face to hide her embarrassment, the blush still visible on her throat and ears.

“When prepared rare, how red does this rump become?” I asked, a slight smirk on my face. The waiter looked puzzled, before realizing what I must have meant, as opposed to the literal meaning of my words. “The chef takes the massaged rump and broils it three inches from the flame. Once the juices have redistributed the rump is sliced across the grain in thin strips.”
The soft groan of exasperation elevated my smirk to a full smile, Juliane’s horror and humiliation being utterly ignored by the waiter.

“The lady and myself will have the London broil,” I informed the patient waiter, my hand under the table squeezing above Juliane’s knee and caressing her thigh. “I am certain the rump will be most delicious.”
As the waiter turned to leave the table, I asked a final question. “Excuse me, but what I wish to take the rump home when I have finished dining?” Without interrupting his stride, the waiter half-turned to answer while heading for the kitchen with a large, knowing smile. “I will be more than happy to wrap it for you, sir.”

Getting on top of myself again.

2009-11-06T17:35:00.008+01:00

Yeah, I know.. I should be sorry and duly repentant for not having shown a sign of life through four weeks.

I'm not, though - since, for inexplicable reasons, the mighty entity called Hard Vanilla Life hit me full force after I'd more or less evaded it for 18 years. Thus, I suddenly found myself surrounded by family drama, professors showering me with Greek and Turkish words in lectures, leaving me dumbfounded, and grave relationship problems, forcing me to banish all kinky thoughts from my mind for some time.

The last issue definitely consumed me most - I am reluctant to talk about (and bore you with) the reasons for all of this mess on here, but let's just say it was something fairly small that blew up like a gigantic mushroom cloud and caused an almost-breakup. Needless to say, I was thrown off-balance by that for quite some time, but now that we've come through it all, it feels like our love has been intensified, refocused by the near-impending doom.

It is hard to explain, and I feel silly just writing about this.. but I am glad we overcame it, together, and I am now even more convinced that he's my man, the one I can truly trust to keep my heart safe. Since we were unable to let go though we wanted to at one point, and eventually could make it through this stupid mess of fuckedupness, I am hopeful that we will withstand whatever hindrances may test us in the future in the same way.

How to trap a kinky bibliophile.

2009-10-16T21:19:00.005+02:00

This evening had all potential to become a cosy and romantic one.. until ten minutes ago, that is.

Why couldn't I just have browsed kinky books silently on Amazon and resisted pointing out every promising discovery to him? I should have known that my teasing comment about how glad I was that I could order it anonymously online wouldn't go unnoticed.

He chuckles at first, but then his brows shoot up - never a good sign. "Hmm. You know, I heard Amazon has some fishy policies about how employees are treated. Perhaps you should order it at the book shop in town, to support the local economy." I smile amusedly at his suggestion, but that smile freezes on my face as I slowly realize that he is, indeed, serious. Instantly, images pop up in my mind, horrifying visions of me stuttering the title to elderly, bespectacled booksellers, who would then inevitably stare at me in disgust. There has to be a way to prevent that. Think quickly..

"Erm.. I don't think that is a good idea, dear - the book is so new that they probably don't even have it in their register." I try to put up a convinciningly concerned look, but he obviously isn't fooled. "Oh, I am sure they will be able to order your little fantasy fodder. And if not, it would have been worth the try, wouldn't it?" He winks and smirks at me wickedly; I cringe and scowl in response.

Unfortunately, I cannot hide my frustration anymore. "Do you really want me to embarrass the old ladies by making them type "Spanked: Red-Cheeked Erotica" into their antiquated computers?!"

He pauses. Just when I begin to hope that he's going to let me off the hook, he talks again: "Well.. not directly, no. You should know by now though that I'd never miss out on an opportunity to make you blush and squirm in public." I gasp and inevitably start to splutter incoherent sentences at him in outrage, but he quickly cuts me off with a stern glare.

"No protests, young lady. You will march your pretty ass into that book shop tomorrow and order that special book, or I'm afraid you'll have to read on your tummy for a week." His threats, uttered in an increasingly steely voice, never fail to intimidate me; I instinctively avert my eyes and mumble something that hopefully sounds obliging while my mind is racing. Good gracious.. how on earth am I going to get out of this one?