Monday, April 27, 2009

Klingon Invasion

Oh well. A whole week has passed since the last post. So much for my recently published plan to be back on schedule by May 1st! I will still get there eventually and fulfil my quota of posts for 2009 - sooner or later. I'm no longer going to make predictions about the exact point in time, though. Even without the blog and the email correspondence that accompanies it, my life is pretty busy at the moment.

The lastest delay was mainly caused by two things. First, a discussion on an online spanking forum, involving a bunch of rather hysterical characters who asserted (with lots of emotional venting, but very little in the way of actual argument or evidence) that severe CP videos are inherently immoral, that they probably feature loads of drugged, trafficked girls and that everyone who watches such vile material - or, God forbid, stars in it! - must be a borderline sociopath. I tried to inject some facts and a bit of calm, rational thinking into the debate, but to no avail. Waste of effort, really. I should have known better than to try and reason with people who proclaim their own subjective tastes and feelings as moral absolutes and scientific truth.

(As Adele Haze once told me, speaking with all the wisdom that comes with having been a spanking model for several years: "I won't get into [these discussions]. When people are being stupid, I tend to want to tell them they're stupid. Rudeness doesn't win arguments, but is so hard to keep from... Sigh!" I know how she feels. Still, I tried to stay polite, and I hope that some of the people from the "undecided" faction read my posts and found them somewhat useful at least...)

The other event pushing this post back was far more pleasant, though: a friendly little Klingon invasion over the weekend. Actually, they are a regular feature of my life these days. Only half a year or so ago, that would have been unimaginable - see, I may be a fairly typical geek in many ways (horror films, fantasy role-playing games, heavy metal music...), but I was never a Star Trek fan. For some reason, I never got into that. But now, in recent months, I've become something of a Trekkie by association. It seems that my rampant geekdom has reached its next and ultimate stage.

It fits well with my spanko-ness. Did you know that the Klingons, the famous fictional warrior race from the Star Trek universe, have rituals that involve "pain sticks" and other cool, kinky devices? They do! I swear, some of the writers behind this stuff must be perverts like us. One of my blog readers, who has been a Trekkie far longer than me, alerted me to the fact that the "Encyclopaedia of Klingon Culture" - a non-canonical resource, but very popular among fans - actually mentions a "Rite of Span'qIng". Get it? "Span'qIng", I kid you not! At first, I thought someone was pulling my leg, but I checked out a copy of the encyclopaedia at my local geeky gaming shop, and that entry really exists (p. 222-227).

("Kinky" excerpt from the "Encyclopaedia of Klingon Culture")

It describes, in great detail, how a "female Klingon warrior" must search for an "experienced arms master" to perform this important initiation ritual with her (apparently, it is supposed to be the counterpart to the "Second Rite of Ascention", which is for men only). The "Master of Ceremonies" introduces the female aspirant to several Klingon weapons, including the "nonelectric wooden" version of the pain stick, by demonstrating their effect on her body. Once she has sufficiently proven her bravery and her resistance to pain in the master's eyes, the rite of passage is complete and the two of them "celebrate the initiation of the young warrior" by drinking tea together (a Japanese-style tea ceremony marks the beginning and the end of the ritual - nice touch!).

Obviously, this glorious piece of fan fiction comes straight from a fellow spankophile's brain, and it's quite well-written, too. I scanned it and made a .pdf document for those of you who want to read the whole thing. You can download it here. Who knows, it might revolutionise your idea of Star Trek - no one said that being a geek can't have its sexy sides!

Next week, I will tell you more about the mysterious, life-changing invasion hinted at in this post. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this wonderful excerpt from the Klingon Encyclopaedia. And if anyone has more information about the article or about who the author might be, I'd be delighted to hear it.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Movie Review: Schizo - The Black Part

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Kentucky Fried Flogging

I'm back from a week of Easter holidays and pleased to see that the text I wrote titled Monks and Roses was successfully posted during my absence. You see, some readers have speculated in the past that I have an automated posting machine (see the comments section here), or that I am, in fact, a machine myself (as Rachel once remarked on Niki Flynn's blog: "It is sometimes quite difficult to tell the difference between Ludwig and a computer."). But this was the first time ever that I didn't publish a post "live", while sitting at the PC. I simply put it in the queue before my departure, and by the time it went up on Saturday morning, I was already in the Eifel mountains, looking at ancient German castles.

It was great to spend a few days totally incommunicado, without emails or internet, but with a new and very special companion. In the meantime, the "future posts" queue allowed me to keep up with my blogging schedule. Maybe it will keep people from starting silly rumours about my whereabouts! Still, now that I'm home again, there is a lot to catch up on. In the comments to Part IV of the Hostel Trilogy: Communion, the debate continued about how moral or immoral it is to thrash Hungarian vanilla girls in a super-severe CP movie. It's a question I answered for myself a long time ago, otherwise I wouldn't have wielded the cane for Mood Pictures in the first place. But while the subject is old news in one way, it was a long and fairly interesting discussion, and you might find food for thought in what I and others had to say.

With the Mood shoot, the extended multi-part report about it and a few more journeys in recent weeks, I didn't always meet my posting quota. If I had unfailingly stuck to my every-four-days routine from new year's day onwards, the 31st post of 2009 would be coming on May 1st. Now, what I'm going to do is this: because the final part of my Budapest travelogue was twice the length of an average text, at over 3,500 words, I'm going to count it as two posts. Furthermore, starting today, I will switch to a temporary every-three-days schedule, and this will take me to post number 30 of the year on May 1st. Then, the cosmic spheres of my universe will be in harmony again.

What you can expect in the coming month-and-a-half: another behind-the-scenes report, about an SM-Circus shoot I did in late March with Pandora Blake. Followed by an account of my adventures with the "special companion" I mentioned before. Third, if everything goes as planned, I'll visit another CP video producer soon and I'll write about the experience (hint: it's one of the websites I reviewed last year). And in mid-May, it's time for the BoundCon VI fetish convention here in Munich, where I'll meet old and new friends. Looks like there will be some lengthy texts to write, plus the usual movie and paysite critiques.

While I'm getting on the job, I leave you for today with a humorous little clip from the big screen. It's from
The Kentucky Fried Movie, the first collaboration by Zucker, Abrahams and Zucker (ZAZ), the team responsible for popular anarcho-slapstick classics like Airplane!, Top Secret! and The Naked Gun series. In my opinion, their earliest effort is also their best. KFM is just a collection of sketches, basically, spoofing everything from TV commercials to news programs to high school science films. It's a hit and miss affair, with some parts that are clearly better than others, but the hits are riotously funny - raunchy, irreverent and in wonderfully bad taste. The main feature, a longer segment called "A Fistful of Yen", still stands as the best Bruce Lee parody of all time.

My other favourite sketches include the trailers for the exploitation flicks of mythical producer "Samuel L. Bronkowitz" (a pun on Samuel Bronston and Joseph L. Mankiewicz). They lampoon 1970's disaster movies ("That's Armageddon!"), blaxploitation cinema ("Cleopatra Schwartz") and pornography ("Catholic High School Girls in Trouble"). The porn film spoof also includes a bit of whipping, the "crazed clown" at 1:23, which is why I'm posting it here. It's much too brief and silly, of course, to be of any erotic interest, but I thought it's fairly entertaining in its way.

As a porn trivia footnote: the big-breasted woman in the shower is Uschi Digard, a Swedish-born softcore model who was quite famous at the time. She has a whipping scene of her own in a (rightfully) forgotten 1973 sexploitation movie named Superchick.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Monks and Roses

And I asked myself, frightened and rapt,
who was she who rose before me like the dawn, beautiful as the moon, radiant as the sun, terribilis ut castrorum acies ordinata...

- UMBERTO ECO, The Name of the Rose

Sometimes on this blog, or in conversation with my friends, I refer to myself as a "monk". It isn't even that much of a joke - when I'm not on the road filming spanking porn, I lead a perfectly austere and reclusive lifestyle. I live off simple food and water, I rarely drink alcohol, I don't smoke, I don't do drugs and I only go out once in a blue moon. My dwellings are small and spartan, just the way I like it. My day is rigidly regimented. More than anything, I enjoy spending time with my books whenever I can. All I really need in life is a bed, a chair, a table, a bookshelf and a PC (just another big book, really).

I haven't taken an oath of celibacy, but I can go for months or even years as if I had and not miss anything at all (it helps if you're an imaginative person). I'm also not a religious man, as I mentioned in Penitentiam Agite!, my Easter post last year. But I am not anti-religious or a militant atheist, either - merely an agnostic, one with a profound scholarly interest in religions as systems of thought and important cultural forces. If I had lived during the Middle Ages, I probably would have been a monk - why not, it certainly beats being a peasant or a man-at-arms. Medieval monks were the scholars of their age, preserving, copying and commenting the wisdom of the ancient world. It's pretty much the same job I do today.

I daydream of being a writer or illustrator, always locked up in the scriptorium while his brothers are gardening or brewing beer. It's nice to dream of being a library monk. Of course, I would have been too much of a pig-headed individualist to fit into the monastic life, not to mention that I'm not big on getting up before sunrise. But as an idealised fantasy, it attracts me immensely. In some of my less sociable daydreams, I have made an oath of silence so I don't have to talk to anyone. Or I have been walled in altogether - they only pass me food, drink and books through a small opening.

Since I'm a straight spanko and neither completely celibate nor interested in M/M action, I can't keep other, more outlandish elements from creeping into my fantasies. In the monastery I envision, there are both monks and nuns, living together. The nuns are equal in terms of gender roles and do pretty much the same stuff the men do. Not at all realistic, I know, but the idea undoubtedly has its charm. I sometimes make up for the historical and social inaccuracy by imagining an alternate scenario where the nuns are little more than slaves. However, I find that one less appealing.

Either way, there are plenty of M/F spankings, and in the main, egalitarian universe, there is F/M, too. As we all know, a life of devotion to God and prayer requires strict, unfailing discipline! So that is what the brothers and sisters are enforcing on each other with birches, canes and whips. Sometimes one-on-one, sometimes in smaller groups, sometimes perhaps in front of the whole assembly - for the truly serious cases. Corporal punishment certainly existed in real monasteries and there is no shortage of historical accounts for inspiration. As well as that, a top dressed in monk's robes simply tends to look good - just watch the fabulous, opening caning scene in Special Case: The Colonel by Elitepain for confirmation.

But let's go back to something a bit more restrained and reality-based. My favourite monk story in book form is The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco, and while it is very much a work of erudite postmodernist fiction, mixing an Arthur Conan Doyle-style murder mystery with references to Borge and semiotics, it is set in a Benedictine abbey in the early 14th century. Two visitors, a Franciscan friar named William of Baskerville (Eco's version of Sherlock Holmes) and his apprentice Adso (Dr. Watson), investigate a series of mysterious deaths at the abbey, sneak around its labyrinthine library at night and search for a lost book of Aristotle which seems to lie at the heart of the riddle. Along the way, Adso has an erotic encounter with a nameless peasant girl, and falls in love with her. She could be the "rose" in the title, even though I prefer a less obvious interpretation.

It's a great little novel, rich in layers and textures, also describing in detail the monastic life and the various religious conflicts of the time (which is swell, I'm always fond of heresies). The holy inquisition makes an appearance, too. A couple of Latin passages add fodder for the patient and classically educated reader as the book goes on, but translations are provided, of course. There is also a well-known movie version from 1986, starring Sean Connery as brother William, Christian Slater as Adso and Valentina Vargas as the girl. It takes some liberties with the book, but is pretty good as a medieval detective story - the true complexity of Eco's work is impossible to capture on film, anyway.

A scene of self-flagellation is included in the film, but unfortunately, the monk performing it is bald, pastry-skinned and weighs approximately 700 pounds! Not to sound superficial, but even if you like guys, it's probably hard to eroticise. The love scene between Adso and the girl is more inspiring, I remember that it kept my adolescent imagination pretty busy all those years ago. She makes some cute little sounds.

Parts of the movie were shot at Eberbach Abbey, a former Cistercian monastery in Hesse, Germany. I'm told that the people there get somewhat annoyed when tourists ask about it, because it's a question they get to hear all the time. The library maze was built in a studio in Rome, though, and the exteriors of the abbey are apparently a movie set as well. In any case, the look and the architecture of the whole thing has significantly shaped my kinky monk CP fantasies. I shall have to travel to Eberbach one day, to at least see some of the locations first-hand.

Maybe in 2010. This year, I'm spending the Easter holidays in the Eifel mountains. As I'm with a newfound spanko friend, I will undoubtedly have much to tell about that as well - unless she manages to cut down on the smart-ass remarks and behaves like a proper young lady for once, in which case I won't have to take her over my knee. But I doubt it. Ah well, we can't always live like monks and nuns! Not like real ones, anyway.

I wish you all a happy Easter, and see you next week.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Movie Review: The Last Case of Dr. Freud

Lupus Pictures (released in 2005)

Entire Story In Fewer Words Than Are In This Sentence:
A farmer tells Dr. Freud about his daughter

Victim Appeal:
This short, but delightful gem by Lupus Pictures stars Thomas J. Marco as an ageing Dr. Sigmund Freud, wheelchair-bound and with his face always hidden from the viewer, and Pavel Stastny as a farmer who has sexual fantasies about his own daughter (which, as the doctor assures him, is perfectly normal: "Incest is just as common as masturbation!"). The movie is set in the late 1930's, towards the end of Freud's life. While the health of the famous founder of psychoanalysis is already deteriorating, he is as eager as ever to study new and interesting cases. The two men have a therapy session at the farmer's house, where the farmer lies stretched out on his bed and recounts his "imaginations" to Freud.

In the role of the farmer's daughter and her friend, we have Eva Sulistova and Denisa Petrakova, who played the "bully schoolgirls" in The Exchange Student. Neither of them gets much to do here, as the film consists mostly of the conversation between Freud and the farmer, but it is nice to see the two actresses again. In terms of visuals, one is dark-haired and the other is blonde, both are reasonably pretty girl-next-door types. I like Denisa, she's cute in her way.

Gratuitous Sadism:
Freud and his patient have quite a lot of trouble connecting because they frequently misunderstand each other and associate different meanings with the same term. For instance, when the farmer talks about a "cave", he means a vagina while Freud thinks about an actual mountain cave. When he tells the doctor that he saw his daughter and her friend "playing with their birdies", Freud thinks about rubber ducks, but what the farmer really means is masturbation. It's interesting that Freud chooses the literal interpretations and his patient the sexual ones, not vice versa!

Lupus show actual visualisations of the mental images, as well as flashbacks of what happened between the farmer and the girls. All the "action" is filmed in normal colour while the therapy scenes are held in grainy black and white. Eventually, it transpires that the farmer spanked the two young ladies when he caught them pleasuring themselves. After a brief incest scene with the daughter (fondling and caressing) and the masturbation scene, a pair of punishments with a thin switch constitutes the climax of the film in terms of CP. Lying down flat on a wooden bench, each of the victims gets 40 strokes, producing nasty, vivid stripes.

After the farmer finishes his story about the thrashings and how much he enjoyed them, Freud diagnoses him with "pathologic compensatory sadism". He encourages his patient to beat his daughter regularly, because it will be "therapeutically beneficial for both parties" - educational for the daughter and an outlet for the father's forbidden sexual desires at the same time. The farmer is only too happy to follow the recommendation. As the movie closes, we see him with the girl over his knee, spanking her with a belt (3o strokes are shown). When she protests "But Dad, I didn't do anything wrong!", he cheerfully replies: "I know, but this was prescribed to me by a doctor."

Best Reactions:
All three corporal punishment scenes in the film are so quick and casual that they are almost an afterthought - they start without buildup, they go on for a while, the pace is very fast, then they just break off. While the action is pretty severe as usual, it goes by without leaving much of an impression, which is intentional. Clearly, Lupus are firmly focused on the humour and the dialogue between the two men in this little project, not on the girls or the spanking action. If I had to choose between the two victims, I'd say that Denisa has the more enjoyable reactions, but it probably has more to do with her hair colour and the fact that I have a thing for blondes than with anything else...

Best Line:
As they begin their session, the farmer tells Freud about the doctors who visited him before: "They told me I was phlegmatic - but I don't care."

Nice Psychological Touch:
Needless to say, there are many Freudian in-jokes here, but surely the nicest psychological touch of all is to make a spanking movie starring the doctor as the title character in the first place!

How Good Is It Really?
In terms of actual CP, "The Last Case of Dr. Freud" is pretty forgettable - two and a half action scenes rush by hard, fast and with barely a trace. As an eccentric short film, it is wonderful and a must-see for Lupus fans. In the space of only 20 minutes, it contains more humour and wacky ideas than some spanking video producers manage in a lifetime. Beneath all the "hilarity", it is also a pretty dark little treat when you come to think about it.

The rambling conversation between Freud and his patient, with their various communication problems, is loads of fun indeed. Not all of it is laugh-out-loud on paper, but the two actors make it work. Thomas Marco is especially memorable as the doctor, all the more so because we only ever get his voice and his shaking hand.

What You Learned:
Apparently, "birdy" is a Czech slang term for the female genitalia.

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Part IV of the Hostel Trilogy: Communion

(This is the fourth and final part of my behind-the-scenes report on Mood Pictures. The others were The Hungarian Hostel, Hostel II: The Revelations of Guard #3 and Hostel III: Preparing for the Mood.)

(Download the HQ version of the "Inmates - Part 2" trailer here)

Mood Pictures have released the second part of "Inmates", and this time, you can really see me in action. Not only does the movie contain my only spoken line (a cordial "Fuck you!" after I get splashed by a prisoner), it also shows 155 strokes of the cane, 100 of which I administered. Plus, there is a hard strapping scene to round out the proceedings. I just watched the whole thing for the first time and I am reasonably content. It's a nice "caged women" flick with lots of CP action and a dark, gritty, pleasantly claustrophobic look. While Mood aren't interested in writing stories, the feel and atmosphere they create is often quite fabulous, in a "torture porn" sort of way. I think my performance as a top was okay, too.

It's exciting to finally see the finished product after all the prehistory. The caning practice at home, the travelling to Budapest, the shoot and the anecdotes behind the scenes, the blog entries. To at last watch oneself on film and find out quite how cringe-inducing it is! In this case, my self-assessment is less destructive than usual. Obviously, there are some things I'm unhappy with, but by and large, I'd rate it as a respectable professional debut - neither Pavel Stastny material nor outright bad. Moreover, I made it in the right kind of video, with the right people, at the right time. It was great to work with the mysterious Hungarian sociopaths, who share my taste in proper sadism, and to be the first to write a report about them. The story surrounding the film is what made the experience special for me.

Appropriately, I saved the best part of my account for last - the spanking scenes were not only the obvious highlight of the shoot, they were also at the very end chronologically. It's interesting to know that most of the thrashings you see in Mood's videos, like a typical secret police interrogation, happen very late at night. "Inmates" was a big production and took even longer than usual - when everything else was done, it was past midnight and we still had five canings and two strappings ahead of us. Clearly, we wouldn't be finished until early morning. I asked Lady Jessica if the models were okay with staying that long? She nodded benignly: "Sure they stay! They want money very badly."

A common question on spanking forums is how the girls feel during a super-severe Eastern European shoot like this. Their mindset is a source of considerable speculation, especially since most of them are vanillas. As often, the reality is less dramatic than the rumours. Yes, there is visible nervousness and apprehension, but the spankees aren't out of their minds with fear - if they were, they wouldn't be doing this. They have all made their decision to sign up for a CP film some time beforehand, and when the day comes, the dominant vibe is a quiet resolve to go through with it. Actually, I believe that some of them are probably less scared than a kinky person might be in the same situation - the shoot is just a job for them, so they don't think about it as much and they don't build it up as this big life-altering epiphany. It's simply something they have to do to go on holiday in the Mediterranean.

A few of the girls were reserved and kept more to themselves, like Mood starlet Victoria Young, who had done her back whipping earlier because she had to leave. The majority appeared fairly cheerful, though, smiling and chatting a lot. They were horsing around between takes, especially during the scene where a new inmate was taken to her cell and the others had to tease her ("Hello baby!"). I got the impression that some of them quite enjoyed the adventure of being on the set and making a movie, even though they weren't into the spankings at all. Perhaps their attitude is best described as: "If I'm going to do this, I might as well try to have fun along the way..."

Gallows humour is one good way of keeping your mind off the inevitable terrifying finale, the part that definitely isn't fun. As the punishment scenes approached, I could feel everyone tensing up, including the crew and the other tops. The air, already hot and dry from the lighting equipment, was thick with anticipation. I had a minor attack of stage fright myself, but it turned to pleasant restlessness while I watched Lady Jessica and the two novice dommes dish out the first caning. The victim, a cute redhead, was tied up in the diaper position and apparently so amused by it that she broke into giggles during the preparations. Then she screamed the roof down for five minutes, and when it was all over, she was giggling again after a brief recovery period - tough girl, good for her!

The Hungarian for "It hurts!" is "Fáj!", pronounced "faay". You hear it a lot in Mood films. In the early days, the models could use a safeword to call for an interruption: "nagyon fáj", "it hurts so much". But Pedro felt that "they used the safeword too often." So nowadays, Mood just try to record the beatings in one go and without coded signals. The scene is interrupted only if a girl screams something obviously out of character (“Stop the camera!”), or if Mood themselves decide that she needs a break.

With a thrashing this severe, going through it in one fell swoop is usually easier on the spankee than pausing and restarting constantly. The models know that they are in safe hands. The medical nurse and assistant director Max Lomp, who is himself an experienced player, keep a very close eye on things. If either of them feels that a girl is well and truly at the end of her tether, they step in. In practice, there is an average one or two breaks per thrashing, less for the experienced victims, more for the newbies.

Victoria Young and the redhead had both survived their ordeals without too much fuss. The third spankee was a veteran who had done several movies already, Rita Goord - and I would be caning her. Originally, I had chosen another girl named Myriam, who played the new inmate at the prison. But after Maximilian's instruction of the tops in the afternoon, rumours spread about my vicious strokes and Myriam said "no thanks". Pedro grinned at me: "Everybody is afraid of you!" Eventually, brave Rita volunteered to face the Horrible Hun. She had been the "dummy target girl", so it probably served her right, for shooting her mouth off...

Like her predecessor, Miss Goord was tied to the wooden whipping bench, but in the more classical position I preferred, on all fours. She is a tiny girl, barely over five feet with a small frame and ass - great, I thought, my first professional scene as a top, and here I am doing advanced target practice! At half past twelve in the night, in front of three cameras and a room full of people. I told myself that I had trained hard enough and that I would blow my audience away no matter what the conditions. The nurse applied a thick transparent cream to Rita's bottom, the usual Mood procedure - you can see it glister slightly on video. Obviously, it doesn't reduce the impact or the pain in any way, but it softens the skin and prevents it from breaking too much. In the meantime, I asked one of the crew to move a lighting umbrella back somewhat so I would have more space for my arm.

Pablo signalled the start of the action from his director's chair. I began with a couple of medium strokes, mostly with the flick of the wrist, to find my aim. I placed them in the lower area of the buttocks, not upwards near the tailbone. The aim was okay (in the back of my mind, I registered Rita moaning and counting aloud in Hungarian). After five or six, I gradually used my arm and shoulder more - a little earlier than I had planned, but I quickly felt comfortable (Rita is getting more vocal).

One goal I had privately set myself before going to Budapest was that I would put one stroke - a proper stroke! - right beneath the girl's tailbone. You need confidence for that, and nothing is more pleasing than a bottom fully covered with marks. Some ten swishes had passed when I tried it. It went high, but not too high - just where I wanted it. No limits to what one can do with relentless exercise and a bit of luck! Seeing that stripe exactly on target was the final trigger I needed. I just went for it from there - full arm strokes with no restraint and no reserve of strength unused, literally as hard as I could hit (Rita's screams are echoing off the walls).

I can't actually count in Hungarian, but I understand the numbers when I hear them. I was half listening to Rita, half keeping track of them myself. Somewhere in the high twenties, I fired off a particularly insane swing (blood-curdling wail!), then slowed down a little as by my original plan. I interjected some lighter, more accurate strokes to fill out the remaining gaps. Rita's ass was glowing with dark, purple welts by now, but there was one virginal spot in the upper third that annoyed me. After a few attempts, I nailed it. Back to the full arm, the finishing stretch, no holding back now (Rita is getting hoarse from hollering and sobbing uncontrollably). I noticed that we were in the forties and started paying closer attention to the numbers. Rita shrieked "Öööt-veeeeen!" at the top of her lungs. Fifty! There. It was over.

It all sounds awfully clinical, but these were my exact thoughts at the time. I wasn't enjoying myself one bit, and I wasn't supposed to - I was there to do a job for Mood Pictures. There would be plenty of sadistic fun watching the video afterwards! But I didn't allow myself any indulgence while we were filming it. I was much too focused to feel anything at all - it was like doing an important exam, where you only realise how good or bad you've probably been doing once you walk out of there and come back to your senses.

After half a dozen cane strokes, I went into a trance. I forgot the cameras, the people, the room around me. My universe consisted of me, Rita, my aim, the last stroke and the next. Even her screams were mere indicators of how hard I was hitting, disembodied, not fully there. Max and the nurse were vaguely present in my consciousness as well, in case they gave me a signal. But they never did - of all the victims, Rita was the only one to make it through in one single take. She was a real trooper.

There was a round of applause. Max Lomp walked over to me, gave me a firm handshake and said "Congratulations!" in English. I mumbled: "Thank you..." My mind was still somewhere else (wait a minute, I think the scene is over). The room came alive again, the crew finishing everything up. I had to pose for the stills photographer. With that done, I took a good long look at Rita's bottom for the first time. Welts all over, some of them bleeding, some perhaps wrapped a bit too far around the right cheek - but no actual miss-hits, none at all. I looked at the cane and there was quite a bit of blood on it, too. It was an immensely satisfying sight. I kept the implement as a souvenir and retired it. The dried splatter is now dark brown on the lighter brown wood.

While the nurse untied Rita, I stood on the other side of the whipping bench and gently touched my victim's left shoulder to get her attention, see if she is okay. Rita turned her head to me. Her eyes and face were soaking wet with tears. She looked up, saw that it was me - and broke into a big happy smile. Visibly dazed, but beaming with relief and a kind of strange primordial gratitude. So pure, overwhelming, contagious. I had a vision of David Cronenberg's Crash. It is precisely what Mood Pictures girls look like after the CP - people who have just been in a major car accident and slowly realise that they are still alive... And that all limbs are working!

I'm convinced that we were thinking the exact same thing: "Wow, it's really over, isn't it?" Each of us had been in a trance, Rita lost in the pain, I in my total concentration. Reemerging, we met at this crossroad and shared a brief, but powerful moment of communion. Vanilla girl, kinky top, it didn't matter - for an instant, our radically different motives for being here were drowned out by a universal feeling of numbness and gladness. I feasted upon the unexpected connection for as long as it held. Then, finally untied, Rita got a bathrobe and a pair of warm slippers like the others before her. Taking her by the hand, the nurse lead her to the medical room for aftercare. We chatted later and she seemed truly fine. I liked Rita, she was one of the more sociable models. I was happy that she had been my first Mood victim.

I sat down again to watch Myriam get thrashed by the three dommes. Lady Jessica went especially hard on her - I think she was trying to make a statement after seeing me. The caning was just as severe, but far less accurate, leaving Myriam with bleeding welts all over her ass and the back of her legs. I felt sorry for her, but couldn't suppress a bit of spitefulness - see, this is what she gets for not wanting to work with me. Silly girl! The same thought seemed to have occurred to Pedro, who nudged me afterwards: "Not a good choice, huh?”

Another caning in the diaper position was supposed to come next, but the girl quit after only five (relatively tame) strokes. She was so obviously out of her depth that they didn't even try to persuade her to continue. The aborted thrashing still ended up in the second video, though, with a fadeout. I had been sitting next to Pablo. He looked glum, so I threw in a bit of sarcasm to cheer him up: "Well, that was a fizzle! You know what a 'fizzle' is?" He didn't, so I explained that it's a slang term for a nuclear bomb which fails to meet its expected yield.

The subsequent pair of strapping scenes was more successful - while both girls needed a couple of breaks, they made it through to the end. I was offered to take part, but declined and left the task to the dommes again. I had never used a prison strap before and, even though it's a fairly simple instrument, I felt that a movie shoot was the wrong environment for such experiments. I preferred to do another caning. After my earlier performance, Pedro and Pablo were more than happy to hand me a second victim, a tall dark-haired girl going by the name Tammy Lange. She played the inmate who attacked me, so it was fitting that I would punish her myself.

It was the eighth CP scene overall and the last one of the shoot. I looked at my watch while they were tying Tammy to the bench - half past three. I had been up for roughly nineteen hours. Even the excitement of making a film with Mood wasn't quite enough to keep the tiredness at bay anymore. I psyched myself up for one final, all-out effort. Once the cameras were recording, I got the expected rush of adrenalin.

Tammy was a new girl and didn't take the caning nearly as well as Rita. She held up during the first couple of strokes, but when I started using my full arm, her composure quickly crumbled amidst cries of "Elég! Elég!" ("Enough! Enough!"). Before we got to twenty, Tammy "safeworded" for the first time, launching into a frantic conversation with Pablo. They calmed her down and she decided to continue after a minute. A handful of swishes later, she needed another break. Pedro asked me if I could aim for the back of her legs instead of her ass where she already had marks - it was Tammy's own request. I dislike cane stripes on the legs and knew that it wouldn't actually hurt any less, but I agreed: "Whatever makes her happy."

Faring a bit better now and gritting her teeth, Tammy seemed determined to reach the end. I caned her legs, then her bottom again, gradually increasing the force of the strokes. By number forty-something, she was at her limit again, banging her hands on the wooden bench and screaming: "Stop, stop, stop...!" Max Lomp signalled to me that I should go on, and I did. We were nearly at the finish line - by this point, simply getting it over with was easier on the girl than another interruption. I gave her the last half dozen quite hard, for the memories.

It was difficult to find a rhythm between the breaks, and with the poor girl constantly on the verge of quitting, I had gone softer on her compared to Rita. Pedro teased me afterwards for being "a shy guy" and I teased him back for "bad casting" – but seriously, it was better to have a slightly less severe scene than none at all. Tammy survived it well, too. When the still photographs were done, I gave her a gentle pat on the back. She nodded her head and smiled, indicating that she was okay. Watching her caning on video today, I consider it the more enjoyable of the two in terms of reactions, while Rita's is better technically.

And that was it - the end of the "Inmates" shoot. It took another hour to pack everything up. I got out of the guard uniform and collected my things, including the two "trophy" canes. The models, also back in their street clothes, looked tired but happy. The reddish blonde girl who had done one of the strapping scenes went to lie on an X-shaped cross in the corner of the studio, just for fun. I walked over and jokingly asked her if she wanted an encore. She grinned cheerfully, pointed at the cross and remarked in accent-free German: "Das ist viel gemütlicher!" ("This one's much more comfy!")

After saying goodbye and thank you, everybody left for home. In the car, Pedro looked quietly content with the work done, and so was I: "Well, that was a nice day..." We shook hands and I got out at the hotel. Staggering into my room at precisely 5 AM, I was struck by the deafening silence. It felt strange to be suddenly by myself again, without cameras or other observers. I blankly stared at my reflection in the big wardrobe mirror for a minute, letting the events of the past 24 hours sink in. Amazingly, they were real and no longer just a dream. My first spanking movie! Wow. Allowing myself a moment of silly joy, I punched the air with both fists.

The constant Hostel comparisons were getting tedious, but there was one more scene that came to my mind. I couldn't help it. It was the one where Paxton arrives at the torture factory, thinking it's an art gallery, and meets a Japanese businessman in the parking lot (a cameo by film director Takashi Miike). Paxton asks: "How is it in there?" The man replies: "Be careful. You could spend... all your money... in there!"

Of course, the analogy wasn't quite valid. I was not a paying torture club customer. My predicament was far worse - I got to thrash the girls for free. And there was no denying that the addiction was already beginning to take hold. I closed my eyes and saw Rita Goord's tear-soaked face before me. The blood splatter on the cane. I knew that I was lost. Only then, too late, did I realise what topping for Mood Pictures really means. It is not just another kinky adventure. Nor is it strictly a professional job. It is, in truth, a vile, sinister, corrupting influence on one's immortal soul.

I can't wait to do it again.