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Photoshoot debauchery: the final installment

Before I describe the sexytime, I’ll briefly mention this funny shit:

After we’d decided I should stay over, I was giggling “We weren’t even drinking and it was still daylight; it was 3pm when we started. So we haven’t got any excuse – we’re just sluts!”

And, “You’re easy. I just met you and in less than an hour I had you by the balls.” “Yeah, LITERALLY!” said Donny.

Later, he joked about closing the window in case a rapist got in and came after me. I said it wouldn’t matter because Roland is not a virginity fetishist, so if I sent him copies of the police reports proving that it was rape, he probably wouldn’t cancel our deal and I’d also get Criminal Injuries Compensation for the rape so I’d end up even more loaded.

And I’d also made Donny strip and do a dance with his thing flopping about while I lay on the sofa and giggled a lot.

Anyway, back to the sexytime:

(Sexytime was the best word Sacha Baron Cohen ever coined. Just sayin’.)

I’m not going to give a blow-by-blow account like I do with Roland.

The first couple of times the bottle ended up pointing at Donny, to my great delight. I had him stick the Smirnoff bottle up his bum while facing and watching The Ring as Rachel held Samara’s skeleton in the well. I made him keep watching. It brought me pleasure just forcing him to watch it. At other times I pissed on him (iun the bathroom), discovering that I actually do enjoy watersports after all. I also rode him like a horse, spanking him with the hairbrush to make him go and strangling him with a belt to make him stop. I also got to spank him but only briefly because he didn’t enjoy it.  I also tried to make him wet himself but he said he wouldn’t be able to do it. Of course, roughly 50% of the time the bottle pointed at me. So, I ended up doing stuff like cock worship and having a belt tied around my neck and having to be a dog. Donny dragged me around the room on all fours and made me roll over and beg. At other times he made me stick a screwdriver up my bum and do forward and backwards rolls with it in. He also made me stick the other Smirnoff bottle up there. I also got my first taste of anal fisting, which hurt A LOT and I kept screaming and thrashing around, but was utterly determined not to ask him to stop. I can bear a lot of pain, but only sometimes. He did get five fingers in. I also sat on the sofa and made him present his bottom to me, saying “Queen Tut, you have the authority to spank me.” Of course I couldn’t resist smacking the two round cheeks. Then he had to kneel in front of me with arms outstretched and say “Hail Queen Tut.”

So basically I found out that I like being dominant in all aspects of BDSM except spanking, where I’m a switch. Then we went into the bedroom and did anal, which hurt a lot and was just painful with nothing good about it. He never got all the way in. Then we slept as the candle burned. I woke up many times during the night, always aware of where I was.

The next morning, the clocks went back. Donny wouldn’t tell me what time it was, teasing me that he knew something I didn’t. He said I should go round to Roland’s house and see what he says. I pointed out that Roland lives a distance away. We went out for breakfast and somehow got talking about US oral sex laws in Louisiana that had been made to catch gays in the 1990s but sent a 17 year old to jail for 10 years for oral sex with a 15 year old – despite repeated efforts to get him pardoned. He’s still there. Donny said imagine what we’d get for what we did last night – probably the electric chair! Back at the flat, his radiator caught my eye because it was so hot. I asked him to push me onto it. Donny was brilliant – he started interrogating and strip-searching me for drugs, then pushed me onto the radiator. It burned and I yelped; I got a red swollen bit on my bum that was sticky. He said he’d never met a girl as openly kinky as me. We went out on a few business calls, then back at the flat he spanked me, but only for a while because he was tired. Then he drove me to Princes Street, saying he would respect my privacy and not post the photos, and likewise he didn’t want me to put his real name on this blog. He kissed my cheek before dropping me off, saying I could stay over again or call if I wanted.

I wish I wanted to see him again but I don’t. I don’t know why. I enjoyed doing it with Donny more because he’s more attractive than Roland and I actually fancy him. But Roland is sexier – his voice and the way he oozes perversion, and the way he spanks. The spanking and roleplay is better with Roland. I wish I did want to call Donny but I don’t. It’s like, the challenge is over; I won, I had sexytime with him, so now let’s move on to another guy and see if I can get him, too.

But you never know – if Roland doesn’t call me soon, I just might get sexually frustrated and call Donny. Who knows?

 

 

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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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Spanking and anal at photoshoot with a guy I just met

Well, dear readers, this sexytime post does not feature Roland! But it still deserves its place in my Diary, because it is an experience I’m having while selling virginity, and we did talk about this blog and Roland. He even offered to make a website for me so I could auction off my virginity for a much higher price. I turned him down because a) I wouldn’t necessarily get more – Rosie Reid only got £400 more than me and the girls who got loads, such as Natalie Dylan, have never been verified to have sold it; b) I have a verbal contract with Roland, c) I prefer it to be someone I like and d) it’s harder to vet bidders online and I want to be safe. And of course e) – I want a kinky person.

I’m sure that this blog post will convince you all that I do ‘put my money where my mouth is’ – in other words, that I am indeed a slut.

It certainly convinces me, because I never saw myself as doing something like this. I guess you don’t know who you are until the opportunity presents itself. A few short years ago, I would’ve despised a girl for doing this and said she was a slut, a tart. But I changed shortly after going to university because I saw no point in judging people and comparing peoples’ sex lives to other peoples’ sex lives, especially when I realised I couldn’t draw up a slut table (ie is being married to 5 men less bad than cohabiting with 5 men just because she’s married? Or even worse? Is 2 one night stands in a month better or worse than 3 in 5 weeks? If it’s with someone you know is that better than with a stranger? Having 3 casual boyfriends in 6 months better or worse than 1 one night stand?) There are no answers to these questions – at least, none that aren’t debatable and controversial and probably case-specific.

The guy has requested to be called Donny on this blog, which he will read because he thinks it’s interesting.

I don’t know what Roland’s reaction to this will be, if he sees this post.

I was waiting outside the Festival Theatre, Southbridge, Edinburgh. This was on Saturday. Donny was going to pick me up to do a photoshoot. It was a mostly fashion shoot with some lingerie and artistic nude. He was taking me to his home, which I’d agreed to because I’d seen his portfolio and knew that other models had worked with him, so he was a real photographer and not a serial killer posing as a photographer. Heh.

Anyway, Donny picked me up. He had black hair – my fave hair colour on a man – good looking, maybe late twenties (I found out later he’s 30). He drove us to his flat in a fairly affluent area of Edinburgh. Donny told me he’s a computer guy although his degree was in something totally different.

In his house, he started taking fashion shots, and a couple of implied nude shots, and I changed several times. They were all fashion poses. Donny seemed very happy with how good the photos were. He said I have a natural talent for modelling and that I photograph very well, both of which is exactly what Roland said. So god knows why I hardly ever photograph well in ordinary pics. Then, after about 45 minutes he took a few implied nude shots and told me to look shocked and like I was screaming “Nooo” and covering up. He said I did this really well. It made me giggle though, and I said it was just like my fantasies and it was weird.

He said he needed a break cos his arm was tired, and I drank the Lucozade he’d bought me at the corner shop before arriving at his flat. He went into the kitchen to smoke. Then Donny asked me what my fantasies were and I told him, very briefly – spanking, government torture, rape, etc. He wanted to know how long I’d had them, I told him they arrived fully developed when I was 9 years old. I asked if he ever had any fantasies. Donny said he had to think about it for a bit, because I’m so open-minded that he thinks nothing will shock me but he wants to shock me. Then he came back out of the kitchen and told me about a dream of going into a van full of naked ladies in it when he was 7 which made him really happy, and backl then he “didn’t even know what naked ladies were for”. Sounded like a mobile brothel (like a mobile library) to me!

 

 

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