As ever, when Jenby’s name pops up in my inbox, I strap in for what is definitely gonna be a fun and kinky ride. In the past, she has treated us to such awesome stories as being a service sub stashed under the table during a poker game, being hypnotised into becoming a bimbo, as well as literally being surveilled using smart tech in one of the most creatively-horny scenes I have ever had the privilege to read about. Honestly, it’s just all absolute gold and I am honoured that Jen (@JenetalTorture on Twitter) is kind enough to share her adventures here. Today’s piece is all about being put under lock and key: trapped, teased and tortured.

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This gorgeous real life story about play in a BDSM club is by Victoria Blisse, and first appeared on her website. It is read here by Sherryl Blu. Features sadism, BDSM, pain and blood.

It was Kev’s birthday party at Miss Ts. I was wearing my new polka dot dress with pockets and telling everyone it had pockets because that is a given. I was doing my hosting duties and when I wasn’t I was sitting between Kronopticon and Palantilin. I tell you, there’s something quite decadent about flopping down on a sofa between two hot guys, both happy for you to snuggle close and touch them. The two meanies hadn’t met before, but they seemed to bond quite happily over their mutual desire to hurt me.

I was glad to be of service.

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It’s not every day that a guest blog gets me right in the heart as well as the knickers, but today’s amazing post by Emilia Romero did exactly that. It’s about freedom and loss and finding yourself, the end of a marriage and the beginning of a love of BDSM. It’s beautiful and hot and painful in all the best ways, and I’m honoured that she’s chosen to share it here.

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When he asked me what I wanted, as my reward for winning the game, I think he expected me to demand pleasure. Orgasms, delivered by hand and vibrator, or his wet lips wrapped round my nipples. Maybe a good, hard fuck bent over the sofa. Instead I asked him for pain. “Whip me,” I told him.

Note, this post makes references to That Fucking Virus and These Weird Times.

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Help me clear up a dilemma, those of you who are into BDSM: is it better to be flogged in jeans or a skirt? Or just naked? If you’re dispensing a flogging, do you prefer to start off with someone fully-clothed, then gradually strip them, building layers of new pain on top of the warm throb of older strokes? Or go straight in for leather-on-skin? Let’s explore this topic together, via the medium of me getting horny for flogging…

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