Sunday, August 16, 2015

Military Discipline Fantasies (Part 1)

A while ago, Ludwig and I had the chance to visit a Cold War field fortification. Luckily, the weapon systems stationed there never had to be used. Today, the whole facility makes for a very interesting museum.

While the idea of people killing each other in war makes me sad, the idea of military discipline is a hot one in the context of kinky fantasies. And so I couldn't resist the temptation to use the old systems for a much more peaceful and sexy purpose than the one they were originally made for. I don't know how long we stayed there exactly, but it was quite some time and we took a huge bunch of pictures!

Bending over like in the picture above would have been rather dangerous, had the gun still been in use. It would be a nice position for a caning or whipping, though, in my view.

This is not exactly a spanking position, but still a familiar one in the world of BDSM. I love the combination of nature and machinery.

While the pictures, or at least the ones shown here, aren't very explicit (hey, there were other people around!), I still like them very much. Okay, despite of the other visitors I couldn't refrain from having Ludwig take a few naughtier photos when no one could see us. I'll show you those in a follow-up post, soon.

Well, except for this one, which is already a bare bottom picture. I guess this position is much safer than the one in front of the barrel. Seems to be quite suitable for a spanking, too, though. Hope you enjoyed the pictures. If you like them, there is more to come!

Sunday, August 9, 2015

Kaelah's Corner (Jul 2015):
A Towel to Wipe Away the Tears

I entered the small establishment leaving the heat outside behind me. Without the need for instructions, I took off my shoes and put on a pair of slippers. I was greeted by two petite women. Quickly, I made my way to the lady's room to make sure I was well prepared for what was about to come. When I returned, I was led to a small compartment, already familiar to me from earlier visits.

It was spartanly equipped and I instantly spotted the one size fits all uniform which lay there waiting for me. I stepped out of my clothes and put on the trousers and the shirt. It covered my modesty, but the thin fabric didn't offer much protection. "Are you ready?" The call came from outside. "Almost." I pinned up my hair to get it out of the way and positioned myself face down on the mattress and closed my eyes.

One of the women entered the room. She had already been doing the job for quite a while, but today, she would only be watching, learning new techniques from the mistress herself. "I'm sorry, today it will be painful with her", she said, sounding serious. Then she joked: "Here is a towel for the tears." I looked up and replied: "Oh, and I thought it would be something to bite on." While the mood was a playful one, I knew that the comment about the upcoming pain was indeed correct. The idea of being a demonstration object scared me a bit, but I knew I was in experienced hands.

Then she entered the room. The session started. My whole body was game. She started with the feet and then went to the legs. The back of my legs is extremely sensitive and soon, I was thinking about safewording. Breath in the pain, breath out of the pain, I repeated in my head in order to calm myself down. My legs were soon on fire, even more so because of the hot cream that was used. It was clear that I would keep a few marks for the next several days.

The apprentice watched eagerly. She remarked how brave I was. From time to time I could see a glimpse of sympathy in her eyes. Not so in the mistress's actions. Quite the opposite: having found a spot I strongly reacted to always seemed to motivate her to pay even more attention to that area.

Most of the time I didn't understand what was said because it was in a foreign language. But I did understand the German instructions that were meant for me. So, I changed my position as ordered, put my hands behind my head, bent down and pulled off the shirt so that the mistress could pay attention to my bare shoulders and back. Sometimes the pain seemed unbearable. Then it took away my breath and made me tap my fingers or wriggle my legs. Sometimes the pain mingled with pleasure as I relaxed.

And finally it was over. Balm to reduce the pain was massaged into the skin on my back. I had survived. And I hadn't needed a towel to wipe away the tears. The whole session had lasted for almost one and a half hours. Without looking at the watch I would not have been able to tell, though. I thanked the mistress and was left alone again in order to get dressed.

When I left the compartment, I was greeted with: "Your tea is already waiting for you." It was time for the aftercare. I paid for my session first and directly made a new appointment. Then I snuggled into the cozy relax armchair and sipped my tea, feeling calm, happy and relaxed.

The next visitors, a young couple, were already waiting for their turn. They were led to the compartments. While I was still slowly sipping my tea, I could hear the woman moan and cry out gently. That's the normal background sound around here, I thought. When I was finished with my tea, I put back the tray and changed the slippers for my shoes. With a final farewell I left the establishment, greeted be the hot sun outside.

In the evening, while lying in bed with my muscles aching, I told Ludwig about my session on the phone. "A towel for the tears? That's cool." He laughed. "If that were a BDSM studio and not a Thai massage studio, the boss would surely be the most dreaded dominatrix", he remarked.

I am sure he is right. Especially because she has a few sayings which would suit a dominatrix very well, too. For instance: "I know it hurts. It must. Because then things will be getting better." Or: "You can scream if you like." And finally: "If you cry, I'll keep on laughing." To be fair, she also frequently apologizes for causing so much pain. And, it doesn't hurt all the time. Some parts of the massage are also pleasurable and relaxing.

And she is really good at her job. The massage helps me with my shoulder problems and makes me more bendable again. Plus, coming to the studio is like coming home. For one hour or more I feel very cared for and closely attended to. Afterwards I am as calm as I rarely am. Going to the massage is like an island in my everyday life, a time just for myself and a place to let go.

Thinking about it, that means it resembles the experience of going to a BDSM studio even more, I guess. I surely don't mind all the talk about pain and the hissing and moaning that can be heard almost every time I am there.