LOL Day 7

Hello readers!

It's once again that time of the year where bloggers take a moment to acknowledge our readers and thank you for your support.

As any blogger will tell you, it is the feedback from our readers that helps keep us going. The wonderful thing about web blogs is that they make writing and reading an interactive process in which fresh new points of view can be seen or heard.

Comments and conversation are the fuel that drive blogging. Without them many bloggers would simply fold up shop and vanish.

However, sometimes it can be hard for a reader to take that step from passive observer to active commenter. 

Bonnie first began LOL day to help make taking that step easier.

So if you've never commented before, now is the time. 

No pressure, no need to worry about how to start or what to say. All you need are two little letters:

"Hi"

It's that easy.

So please leave your comment below.

~Lady Koregan

Thank you, Bonnie!

Add me to your long list of thankful well wishers!

The Brunches, the blog rolls, and even the keyword chaos are all wonderful features I enjoy regularly.

Bonnie, you really have had an amazing impact. 

Thank you so much for all you do!

How many am I getting?

That is the universal question. As soon as he finds out he's in trouble, every boy about to find his bottom stinging seems to want to know exactly what he's in for.

And it's always such a dilemma, because it's not a question I can answer.

I don't really use set numbers for spanking. I feel they are counter productive. 

It's understandable that the boy wants an answer. Having a number helps cut it down to size. A clear definition takes a spanking from being the big scary unknown to something manageable, bearable. They know the exact  size of the challenge and can gird themselves to meet it.

But sometimes that's not what you really want. It's not what he needs. If the goal is true penance, true remorse, then a challenge the mind can embrace and defeat is the worst thing you can have. 

Such things have their place, but when you're trying to take someone into a specific emotional space the mind is an obstacle, not a ally. It is the mind's job to protect those vulnerable emotional spaces. Uncertainty helps soften the barriers the mind puts around them and makes letting them down easier than it otherwise would be.

This isn't just about making it easier on you. It's about making it easier on him. The harder he fights, the higher the risk that you may actually do harm. This is not desirable. We want to gently bend, not break.

Still, even with the walls softened it is hard to know exactly what getting past them will take.

Everyone is different and even someone I have spanked many times is different from time to time. I have a very good idea of what they can take and how they will react but nature has it's own way. 

If I were to set an absolute number of strokes I might low ball it and not push him far enough to achieve the catharsis he needs.

And after he's taken though 10 or 20 or however many and it's not enough I can't very well stand there and say "oh, I've changed my mind, you need 20 more." That breaks trust and erodes credibility. Not healthy for a relationship at any stage.

Or if I guess too high then we are faced with the unpleasant choice of my either having to again change my mind, or he may be forced to ask the scene to stop  and even though that's 100% ok, he'll likely still feel he failed if he can't get through the whole number.

Or worst, perhaps, if he forces himself to go through with more than he can or should take he may find himself either physically or emotionally damaged.

No, there's just no good option there.

So when he asks how many, I say "it depends", "we'll see" or just "I won't count, I'm just going to keep going until you're good and sorry."

That way I make sure he gets exactly however many he needs and not one swat more. 

And he can always be a brave boy and take it, because the challenge can just happen to be whatever he can take right then.

That way we both win.

I like that.

~Lady Koregan

Base BLUE balls

It was a terrible baseball season here in Denver. The Rockies had the kind of season that leads one to imagine ancient curses seeping out of old graves beneath the stadium or the ghosts of restless players who can only be redeemed in the middle of a corn field.

Yes, it was THAT bad. 

Record number of losses for a single season.

The team manager resigning in disgrace.

Pitchers being chased down the 16th St mall with pitchforks and torches....

A very ugly picture.

But who I really felt bad for was PC. He has loved the game of baseball since about the time he could walk. He's played, he now coaches, he follows the season faithfully.  His office is fairly spartan, but with the exception of one picture, what decor he does have is all baseball related. 

There's a jersey on the wall above his conference table.  It's autographed by his boyhood hero.

So when I heard him say he totally lost interest in the game this season it about broke my heart.  Mr. Baseball just didn't care this year.

Not that I could blame him, but it still just wouldn't do.  Something had to done.

It was about then that I realized he hadn't been in chastity for awhile, and genius struck.

So I told him for the rest of the season he could only come if the Rockies won a game.  That caught his attention. 

That was back in August, and the Rockies just played their last game last week. (They actually one that one.) The season had a few ups, but many, many downs, which made for a very long couple of months for PC.

But it certainly kept him interested. 

~Lady Koregan

Speaking of Birthdays

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Why Would Anyone Want to Do That?

THAT INFERNAL BOOK strikes again!

I am close friends with the woman who runs the book department at my day job. Lunch will often find us sitting together either both eagerly reading or discussing books and articles we've delighted in recently. Often the manager will join us. 

 Sometimes that's nice. 

Sometimes it's just unfortunately awkward. 

Our boss is not a people person. She's a woman of a different era than my friend and I. She's more repressed, more well, let's just say she's not exactly sex friendly and she's certainly not kinky friendly at ALL. 

 At at times well, the gap between us is rather evident. 

 So my friend and I were dreading that inevitable day when we knew the topic of THAT INFERNAL BOOK would come up. 

 And it did... We knew it was coming. The boss looked around the room and then leaned in close so she could whisper:

 "Have either of you read that 50 Shades of Grey book?" 

 My friend and looked at each other with matching expressions of horror. We could NOT be having this conversation.... but we were.

 The book lady shook her head. I just said I couldn't get past the first few pages of the Amazon preview. We hoped that would end the boss's questions. No such luck.

 "Well," she said. She hesitated a moment and then continued. "I just don't understand what the big deal is. I mean is it like porn or something?" 

 I looked at the book lady. Brave as always, she took in a deep breath and answered the question. 

"Well, it's about sex, but not just that it's kind of about..." she rolled her eyes as she tried to come up with a term that would be accurate and not derogatory, but that the boss would understand. "well, kinky stuff," she finally finished.

 "Kinky stuff?!" cried the boss. "You mean like whips and chains and all that?"

 "Uh, something like that."

 "Why would anyone want to do that?" My friend looked at me. My turn, her face said. 

 And then I had about 3 seconds to make a decision. Had it been a different person, a different time, and different place, I would have chosen differently. I am open and honest about my lifestyle and I share it freely with some people. However, my employer is not one of them. 

 So I simply said "they must get some value out it. I believe they find it cathartic" 

 An image from a few nights earlier played in my mind as I spoke, the dark of my bedroom, the glow of candles, and the look of pure bliss on Lance's face as floated in the waves of subspsace.

 I don't usually post explicit photos here, but it was such a beautiful moment I had to capture it. And I'm going to share it, because it is the answer to the boss's question I really wanted to give her:

"Because sometimes it's art, that's why."
 ~Lady Koregan

50 Shades of Gaaaahhh!

God lord, people! Where has all of our kinky pride gone? Are we really going to let some fluffy little twit who writes vampire fan fiction become the voice of BDSM in America?

Seriously?

Have we lost our collective minds?

Now please don't think I'm condemning this pile of drivel without reading it--- I managed to get through 3 whole pages of the Amazon preview before my head exploded.

Are we really supposed to believe that in this digital age little miss reluctant interviewer has never heard of Google?

Oh please! She's sitting there with her phone in her hand in his waiting room and supposedly dying of curiosity, but she doesn't try to seach for a picture of the elusive Mr. Grey???...What, do they not have mobile internet in Canada or something?

Now if she'd searched and not been able to find a single picture then that would build some intrigue, forshadowing his um... eccentricities.

But her not even trying to look just makes her seem like an idiot.

And speaking of those eccentricities, what is up with that? Do we really need the "kinky people are all crazy" stereotype reinforced YET AGAIN?

Why can't mainstream media/pop culture every portray us as normal, healthy human beings?

Before you go raving about/praising/promoting this book ask yourself if the image it promotes is really how you want your friends and family to see you.

I certainly don't.

Sorry, but I don't think Ms. James really did us any favors here.

then again I could be wrong....

What do you mean it's REAL??!!

There seems to have been a bit of confusion.

Perhaps it's my fault, after all I did title this blog "Femdom Fantasy". But that's a bit misleading...

Because it isn't fantasy.

If I'm writing about something here on this blog, it happened, or is going to happen.

Lance is real. PC is real. Bunny is real.
I am real.
And I really do do the things to them that you read about here.

PC really did serve detention here in my living room.

He really does get paddled, strapped, or spanked until he cries.

(And yes, right now he is serving a month of very intense chastity, but more on that later...)

Lance really does suffer my cock and ball tortures , and enjoy them. The pictures are real. So are the videos . Granted the wig is fake, but that's really me swinging a real strap and hitting his real balls.

I am a lifestyle Female Dominant. Lady Dominant, as I like to say. I really am a sadist. I really do tie people up and hurt them and make them beg for more.

I know there's a lot of fantasy and fiction out there on the world wide web, but it's not here.

Yes, this is all the stuff of fantasies. Mine, PC's, bunny's, Lance's, and maybe yours.

But I make those fantasies cum true.

And then you all get to read about it, aren't you lucky?

~Lady Koregan

Pretty Whips All In a Row

 

Lance looks very good naked.  Leaning against my fireplace with his arms spread wide and his hips jutting out he looked even better...


The floggers were waiting at the ready on a side table, but I had to touch him before we began.


I ran my hands through his dark hair, stroked his neck, traced the lines of those wonderful wide shoulders, kneaded the muscles of his back and felt them melt under my touch. My hands squeezed his bottom cheeks. He gasped. The gasp turned into a moan as I reached around to cup him in my palm. The leather cage he wore could not hide his readiness.


Soon, soon we would have to start, but for just a moment more my hands lingered on his skin, reveling in his hard, smooth flesh. I felt greedy, gobbling up every inch of him I could reach.


Then the music changed, he shifted his weight a bit and sighed. He was ready. I picked up the elk hide flogger and we began.


It was not a brutal flogging, but it was a long one. We had planned for half an hour. It ended up lasting almost twice that time.


The white elk hide tickled and teased, warming his skin to the lightest possible shade of pink. I moved slowly, striking his back, butt, thighs and even up between his legs. 


It was a slow dance, a love making of pleasurable pain.


We changed whips several times, from the elk to a special flogger made from paracord, from the paracord to purple silicone, from the silicone to pebbled leather and from leather to heavy duty rubber. Each whip was heavier than the last. With each change the blows got harder, the fell faster, and each whip was used for a longer time.


Then came the delightful surprise, the memory that will make me smile for the rest of my life.


Before we'd begun I'd laid my entire whip collection out for him to see, 17 assorted cats, floggers, quirts and single tails in all. I then showed him the 6 from the collection I had chosen for the scene.


I'd told him he could pick a whip to add to my selections if he wished. He looked at down at the remaining whips, both eager and apprehensive. He chose the single tail, but his eyes kept flicking back to the quirt. I smiled and added it to the pile along with the single tail. 


He paused a moment then told me honestly that as much as he'd enjoyed other things we'd done with that quirt he didn't know if he'd like it on his back. I told him I was fairly certain I could make sure he liked it.


And he did.


It was a glorious sight, his back and ass thrust out as the tips of the quirt flicked back and forth like a snake's tongue across his skin. 


I used the single tail the same way, gently flicking it back and forth over his back, ass, and thighs, leaving pretty red stripes in it's wake.


There's no denying it. Stripes are sexy. One part of me was realizing that I was getting very turned on. The rest of me was lost in the scene, and him, enjoying the silent dance, riling him up, soothing him back down, taking him back and forth from peak to dizzying peak. 


All too soon it was time to come back down. I took up the hair flogger and began, flapping it against his back, fanning the hot skin as much as whipping it. Slowly his muscles relaxed under the gentle brushing


I traded the whip for the lotion bottle. He was red and welted but there was no skin broken.* His flesh almost sizzled under my hands it was so hot. 


The aftercare was tender, my touches and his both gentle and erotic. 


It had been a very good day.


~Lady Koregan


(*Forget what you have seen in the movies, or hard core porn, a good whipping need not lead to bloodshed. In fact for the safety of the bottom and the rug he or she is standing on, it is usually best if it doesn't. Welts are fine, but cuts are nasty.)