Tag Archives: knife play

Photoshoot debauchery continued: virginity checking & spanking

Donny said he never had fantasies like mine and never about spanking because he’d done it, though he’d never been spanked. I freaked out in my head.

“What? You’re into spanking! No way!” I went, “I don’t meet anyone into it ever, then in just a few months I do! This other photographer was into it too.”

We talked a bit about spanking and he asked if I’d ever been spanked or spankeed a guy. I was guzzling the Lucozade and absolutely delighted because I knew what was coming, what I’d made happen.

“Let’s get some spanking shots in,” Donny said, and we tried to figure out what to spank me with. He went off to get two plastic hairbrushes; one belonged to an ex.  Then he took a photo of me bent over the sofa, before slowly pulling the brush back and swatting me with it. It was painful and the pleasure was as intense as it was immediate. He did it a few more times, then I suggested we do OTK on the sofa, and that is what we did. “[Kalika] is your real name?” he asked, just before he spanked me. (I model under a fake name). And it was sheer bliss.

I had just told him about selling virginity and the blog – something I’d been telling myself not to reveal, to protect anonymity. After spanking me, and some chat about virginity and the corona being mistaken for the ‘hymen’ (which is fictional) for 500 years, he goes, “Want me to check?” I laid on the floor and he started pressing the bit next to my inner labia, and sometimes it hurt. I said he wasn’t even checking, he was just having a good time. He said he couldn’t see any opening and it was all completely closed with no way in.I felt relieved, because I was able to find my vagina aged 12 and 13 but I can’t find it now; but this meant that I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t find it. It must have sealed as I hit puberty. Donny seemed to think I didn’t have one, but I said I had periods so I must do; anyway I had one aged 9-13. He couldn’t believe how closed off it was and asked to take a photo (he wasn’t going to post any of these online, or indeed any pics before asking me first. Most of his photos never get put online at all; it’s his hobby and he just keeps them while only posting a few. Obviously, close-ups of vaginas could never be posted on non-porn sites, anyway.)

I looked at the photo, intriuged. I couldn’t see anything there; it was featureless; a slightly yellow-toned seal with a slight bump. I realized it was pretty cool. I also realized that I was looking at the thing that women had been – were being – killed or disowned for. Which is something I don’t really write about much because my words will be pretty much useless. And I felt terribly privileged then, to have been born where I could look at it and know it was worthless to me, to be able to sell it. And without fear.

I was happy about how pretty it was. Donny was all like, “Wow, a spanking and then checking for virginity! I haven’t had a girl over in a long time, and now suddenly, wow! I thought this was going to be a boring weekend.”

I don’t remember how exactly we got to this point, but he got a knife from the kitchen and let me put it to his neck for a couple of minutes. It wasn’t working for me, though so he asked if he could do it to me. I thought I’d be scared, but I wasn’t. Instead my breathing quickened as if in the throes of sex and I got wood. Interestingly, I can tell if I’m stiff easier than I can tell if I’m wet. I dunno if this is universal among women.

And then I was lying on the sofa and he came over me, the knife to my throat as he lay on top of me and it was great! I didn’t feel scared at all. Then he was standing up and I was rubbing the knife against his crotch, and then giggling because he was wearing these Fred Flintstones ‘bed rockin” underwear; he said he hadn’t expected anyone to see it. Ha. Then I was pulling them down, examing him because it was only the third cock I’d seen. Then I gave him a handjob as we sat on the sofa.

It was much more enjoyable than with Roland because I wanted to. With every fibre of my being, I wanted this and it felt so right, so good, so natural. He said he felt like I was doing all the work while he had fun, but I assured him that wasn’t true, and continued jerking him, trying to make him splurge all over the place. It was so fun! So right! I also got to fiddle about with and examine his foreskin, and I suspect that the foreskin is a remnant of a biology similar to a dog’s, when the penis comes out like a lipstick. A lot of mammals are like this. So that is my evolutionary biology theory about foreskins.

Donny suggested I stay over and we could go out for drinks. “And don’t worry, your virginity is safe with me,” he added, and I giggled – it was so funny! Just such a funny thing to say, and of course nonsensical, because the only way I’d lose it would be if I suddenly decided I didn’t want the remaing 6k, or if Donny was a rapist, something he obviously wasn’t because he’d had plenty of opportunities. He also recieved and made a couple of calls – he’s self-emplyed fixing both hardware and software. It was about 5:30; I waited till 6 to call my mum, saying I’d met up with Kathy after the shoot and we were going clubbing so I was staying at her place. I’ve stayed over at Kathy’s before – last time a couple of weeks ago, so it was believable.

Donny said I sounded very real and believable on the phone. I’m great t lying, so yeah, I probably did. Also, I wasn’t under a lot of pressure as my only reason for lying is my liking of privacy; there was no reason to keep it a secret from her, I just don’t think she’d be that interested or want to know, and I like privacy in unimportant matters like this.

I was snickering about my former worries over Donny potentially being a murder and my mum telling me to give her Donny’s number in case he was a rapist/murderer; yet now I’d let him put a knife to my throat and wanted sexytime. “Yeah, ‘I should be so lucky’!” Donny laughed; “I mean that in the best possible way.”


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BDSM Bella: The knife, the needle and the newbie

So, there’s me on the floor in this big room giving my first blowjob and discovering that far from feeling disgust, I actually enjoy it! It was so much fun seeing the effect I was having on him! It made me feel powerful, and for a moment I fantasised that I could control Roland’s reactions, thoughts and senses completely.

After about 15 or 20 minutes, I told him I couldn’t breathe properly and needed a break. He said that I was good. This made me very happy. I was curious about his cock, it seemed very rubbery to me, like Matt’s. I pressed it in places and moved it around; it surprised me that I could move it to all angles, straight up or to either side, very easily without hurting him.

Growing up, I’d always believed that urine and semen came out of the same hole. But, knowing that they were two different tubes, I had sometimes wondered if they wouldn’t have two separate openings, one nearer to the underside, maybe. I’d never had an opportunity to check either theory, as with Matt it had been outside in the dark and the first time in Roland’s company office I hadn’t been paying attention. As I was moving it up, I asked “where’s the other hole?” and he goes, “What other hole?” so I explained and he said there was only one; two tubes opening into one hole. I said that was disgusting because urine particles might get mixed with semen on ejaculation. I said women were much more hygienically designed; he seemed to agree. He chuckled and said “Well, I’m glad I could give you an anatomy lesson.” I continued to feel and squish different bits of Roland experimentally. It was all new to me. I also wanted to see if the underside of balls had hair, and how hard you could squeeze them, and how they felt when you squashed them or rolled them in your fingers. Roland seemed amused by this exploration; having never been with a virgin, he must never have had a woman experiment like that.

I thought it was quite fascinating, and I got down on all fours and pounced on his thing for a bit, batting it with my hand, doing each pounce from a different spot. It was so much fun!

“You’re like a little cat,” he said, “Come back over here.”

Dunno what happened next, but after a bit we were talking about shaving (why don’t men shave their balls, razors vs waxing) and I said I plucked hairs out of my legs and it’s called trichotillomania and I hate being medicalized as I just do it for fun. I said I go Brazillian because it’s easier as I pluck out so much hair from my pubic area, and he said if I want I could pluck hairs from his balls, and I plucked two, which didn’t hurt him but didn’t satisfy me because the hairs were too long. I only pluck short hairs. I also prefer thick, gel-like white roots or black, sticky roots – not dry small yellow/white roots or no visible roots.

Then I lifted his cock upright, took a needle off the tray. However, when I asked Roland if I put it down the hole as an experiment to see what would happen, he was not keen – even though, if I had dropped it down the hole, he could have urinated it out. Or put his thing in the ‘down’ position so it would fall out. I was all, ‘pleeease?‘ with my best puppy-dog expression, but he wouldn’t budge. He seemed to find it amusing. He said I couldn’t use the needles but I could use the knife. I needed no further encouragement!

I laid the knife against his chest and took it on its glinting dance down to his groin. I was moving its flat side over his balls (at one point he was all ‘owww oww that isn’t flat – HAHA hilarious!) and up and down his cock. After a bit I stretched myself up as far as I could go while kneeling and kissed him, pushing my tongue into his mouth as I held the blade against his cock. Our tongues writhed and fought and mated like snakes, and my hand was caressing the blade against his flesh.

The above paragraph is in bold because it was my favourite moment of my selling virginity adventure (so far).

Of course, then I just had to make a teeny cut. Roland wouldn’t let me cut, or use the needle to pierce him. He wanted to see me pierce myself, and I attempted to pierce my inner labia but the needle wouldn’t go through. Then he changed his mind and decided that he would try it.

He used the needle to try and pierce his cock to draw blood, and we were trying for ages but it didn’t work. He said that piercing or cutting the skin wouldn’t even draw blood; it needs to be a bigger cut.

“Well, let’s pretend it draws blood,” I said, pretending to stab him, laying the knife aside, applying a smidgen of reddish sauce to the ‘cut’ and saying, “So, you’re bleeding now.” Then I sucked off the sauce. Roland went, “You are a vampire!” as if it was somehow a little bit surprising; I thought I’d given him plenty of clues. And there’s loads of vampires in society, if the internet and vampire porn is any indicator.

I put on more sauce and gave him another blowjob, then I asked if he wanted to spank me again. Soon I was once more over his lap.




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The Chase

So, we’re in the kitchen. It’s cosy and warm even though I’m either nude or near-nude. The kitchen, like the livingroom, has ethnic touches to it, a style which is similar to my own. Though mine is less subtle and more opulent. Roland was all “finish your coffee and then we can go back in the living room,” and I realised I had to stall him further; this was becoming interesting! Like a real cat and mouse game. I started pretending I’d been abducted by him and was now in the abducter’s house. (I just started giggling while typing and kind of lost my train of thought.)
I said, “What if I didn’t want to?”
“Well, then I’m not sure it would be a good idea to continue with this,” he said.

I was quite horrified by the thought of losing the remaining £6,000 and asked “So you wouldn’t pay me the rest?”

“Well I’d pay you for tonight, but I wouldn’t want to continue – I’m not sure,” he said.
I hadn’t realised he would discard me so easily if I disappointed him. However, all my efforts to find out if he would 100% certainly call it off failed – he refused to answer, saying that oif he answered, it would be coercion and he couldn’t do real coercion. But I had to know, so I could make a calculated decision! But he would only give me that response. Then I realised that he wouldn’t be dropping me as a defective hooker, but instead stopping it because of concern that my heart wasn’t really in it. Roland told me not to force myself to do it, and if I couldn’t then it was okay and we could discuss whether it should continue later. His insinuation that I wasn’t capable of it irritated me slightly and so I decided to prove him wrong.

“I’ll do it,” I said.
“Are you sure? You’re not just doing it to please me? Or to prove to me you can do it?”
“No, I want to.”
“Are you sure you really want to?” he said, with irritating perceptiveness.
I assured him that I did, and I did feel sure; I had made up my mind now.I asked Roland for some drink so it’d be easier and he got me whiskey but it tasted horrible even though it was expensive so I gave him the rest of the glass.

I was taking stuff out of my bag and showing Roland the goodies – the strawberry and cream sauce I’d brought in case of this eventuality, and this really cool anal bead vibrator. He liked them. Then I took out the firelighter (for heating up stuff like frying pans etc) and the needles. (I’d got the needles so he could prick my bum or I could stab them into his thick, fleshy cock or drop them down the hole at the tip and see what happens.) I saved the best for last.

It was a cheap knife from the local supermarket, decorated with sequins.




Roland was surprised by it, I could tell. This delighted me, as I have sadistic thoughts towards him. I had been very much looking forward to him being surprised. It’s one of my favourite benefits if not being a ‘real’ prossie – you can mentally torture them a little bit without worrying that you won’t get business again. More generally, there’s room for your own kinks. Roland asked me what the knife was for. I don’t really know what I answered. “As much as I can legally get away with” wasn’t a good answer if I wanted the rest of the money. I felt so powerful wielding the blade, even though it was much too cheap and of a general/utility design to cause more than a scratch. There was little real balance to it.

Slowly, I reached out and put the blade to his neck. It felt as good as I’d always dreamed, even though he did not fear it. I was almost panting with lust as I held it to the other side of his throat, then dragged the knife down his body, slowly, holding his gaze the whole time. He was looking at me with an interested expression, and his lack of fear was annoying, but also – for practical purposes – liberating, as I didn’t have to worry about stopping what I was doing to keep him around for the 6k. I dragged the flat edge down to his crotch and held it there, then withdrew the knife.

Roland asked for it and examined it, then he pointed it at me and I went back behind the door and closed it. He came in and I took off through another door and fell down a couple of steps into the garage, cutting my foot a little. (I’ve no idea why I did that). “Come here,” he said. My foot really hurt a lot.

He took the needles, sauce, cream and stuff into the front room, setting them on a tray on a coffee table. The fire was blazing brightly, the flames dancing as if wildly excited. I tried to make a run for it but Roland caught me easily before I’d gone two steps, wrapping his arms around me.

“Oh no you don’t,” he said, laughing. Roland made me bend over a footstool to spank me.
“But you can’t spank me now, I’m full of coffee!” I whined.
Roland laughed, “That is a pathetic excuse!” He gave me a few hard whacks; it stung quite a bit.
Roland sat on the sofa and pulled me over his lap, spanking quite hard now. My face was in a cushion with a nice exotic design. The spanking was very pleasurable and relaxing. Suddenly a tray fell onto the floor and Roland went to clear it up.

From my perch on the sofa, I said, “Maybe it’s a sign we shouldn’t do this.” “Maybe it’s a sign that I shouldn’t put this too close to the edge,” he said. I saw my chance for escape, and I casually climbed off the sofa and walked near him to the door, helping him tidy up. Then I made a break for it, bolting upstairs. I tried to find somewhere to hide, but after going back and forth, concluded that one end was a dead-end. I suppose subconciously I wasn’t intending to hide from him, which is why I never tried any of the doors except maybe one. Roland came running upstairs and I was cornered.


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Summary of what happened

We went to a cafe and Roland looked less disgusting and more attractive this time, also less fat.

Roland said I’m a psychopath and a very happy person.

I found out he is a millionaire and he gave me a statement of one of his accounts showing 1.6 million which I’ll upload in redacted form here (in another post) and to Facebook.

We did another photoshoot in his studio involving oral (me recieving), a vibrator and the whipped cream I bought from the student shop while waiting for him to turn up;

At 7pm we went to his house where he spanked me for a long time with different implements (hand, wooden spoon, hairbrush, flogger, paddle, cane) and forced me to give him a blowjob; I tried to run away but he caught me so I had no choice but to use the strawberry and cream flavoured sauce I’d got in case of this worst case scenario. So at least it tasted good.

I tried to use the knife and needles I’d brought but he didn’t trust me to pierce his cock; instead, he did it, trying to draw blood that I could suck (as per my intentions). This was unsuccessful. So I used a firelighter to heat up a fork instead, which was a bit too sucessful.

He caned me and then let me cane him, but only too strokes because he said I did it “very hard” though I would call it mild. But I am more of a domme than a sub.

What happened next? How did he end up ‘abducting’ me to Newcastle at 5:45am the next morning? What other stuff happened and how did we feel about it, what did we say etc? And how did he end up paying me and dropping me off in the small area/town that I live, where I could potentially be seen with him and getting out of his car when I was supposed to be somewhere else? WHAT MADNESS WAS THIS?!!I’d LOVE LOVE LOVE to write it now but I’m tired, and I still hurt from yesterday thanks to him. I can’t even guarantee that the ‘highlights’ I just gave you were the most dramatic, surprising or important bits; so many weird dramatic things happened, like me holding a knife to his neck, or the handcuffs wrestling where I squirted him in the face with the cream and in his mouth so he had to eat it…heh. And learning what would’ve happened if I’d told him my tuition fees were 12k, our plans for taking my virginity, his Chastity theory about me, calling Roland by his fake name for three hours as two models got naked, and a load of other stuff, like lying to our families (and others) about where we were, as well as the other sexual stuff we did. I discovered a lot about myself. I think Roland did, too.




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