Cassandra Park

This post is just a quickie before bedtime; I may expand on it in the morning.

I was asked to speak at the upcoming TES spanking group on Feb. 1, and the topic I picked was something I’ve been wanting to talk about for some time — how to process the pain of a hard spanking or discipline.

I have a rough outline and my own ideas on how I process pain (sometimes, the answer is “not very well”). But I wanted to ask other bottoms, subs, masochists, etc. — how do you accept a hard scene? Do you have a preparatory ritual? Does it depend on what’s happening or the person you’re with?

I’d really love to hear others’ thoughts on this. You can respond here, on FetLife, or shoot me an email (mscassandrapark@gmail.com). I’ll probably repeat some of them here in a future blog (let me know whether or not you want your name used, and what name to use if so).

Cross posted on FetLife.

In my last post I started to write about the scene I had on Sunday with Spike_NY, my Dom until recently. I didn’t mention that after the bath brushing, after the knife play & the whipping on my inner thighs and pussy, he strapped me with three different straps, the pinnacle being his scary razor strop. Fantasy objects meet reality. It ain’t easy… But there was a reason Spike was my Dom, and there is a reason I still like playing with him. He pushes my boundaries. He creates scary scenarios. He makes me take things I am petrified of. You’re going to use THAT? THERE? Oh, fuck! I am not some super masochist. I don’t lie back & say, “Bring it on.” I am scared. I don’t know if I can take it. I DON’T think I take it well. It sometimes reduces me to a panicky, blubbering mess. It’s at those times, when I don’t say “red” and my top surges forward, that the magic starts to happen. It doesn’t look like magic. Like I said I may be struggling, I may be hating it. On Sunday I was screaming quite a bit. He took a few seconds break, perhaps, & kept going. The whip struck my thighs, my mound, played with the clothespins but didn’t knock any off, at first. I had this hopeful notion in my head that perhaps the clothespins would block the whip from striking my pussy. Wishful thinking. When it first touched down I yelled. No, he’s not doing this to me, he won’t do more … And another scream as it hit the target again, lightening on my cunt. Unbearable, unbearable… I am not a tough girl, I am not … but I am not saying red. The whipping continues. At one point Spike got impatient at the progress, as far as removing the clothespins, and he simply reached down and ripped a handful off all at once. The zipper was not as painful as the whipping, and if it meant I wouldn’t be whipped as long, I was grateful. I couldn’t escape or turn over, but some strikes made me sit straight up and roar. I was encased in the straitjacket & hood, and believe me, I was sweating. It’s hard to think much about anything beyond the pain, while it’s happening. It’s only afterward that I feel high, ecstatic, grateful & full of admiration about how he had pushed me. I felt so close to him, felt a kinship. The two sides of the coin, melded together. I’ve mentioned before that there are only a handful of people who can do this to me. By “can do,” of course I mean “i allow to.” Any garden-variety sadist can reduce a sub to tears. I need them to understand, to have an inkling of what I’m going through … but also, when the scene’s over and the toys are put away, I need them to care about me & I need to care about them.

I posted some pics on FetLife from the session I did on Sunday with my former Dom, Richard (Spike_NY on FetLife). And I wanted to share them here, as well. It is now Tuesday morning and I’m still processing the scene, and still buzzing a little bit from it.

Spike and I played very briefly at a party last weekend, but we hadn’t played privately since December, since we decided to call our D/s relationship quits. I know I haven’t talked that much about that, either, because I wasn’t ready to say much in public. Truth is, things are going well. We are still talking a lot, but no one’s pressuring anyone else. I think we are really morphing into a good friendship. My feelings of jealousy about his other play partner/sub are dissipating as well. I don’t have to share in public now, and it makes it so much easier. It wasn’t even sharing play that had bothered me, it was a feeling that my submission wasn’t special. Truth is, his other girl likes some kinds of play that I don’t enjoy, and vice versa.

I like pain, I like being pushed into taking pain. The clothespins on my inner thighs and labia hurt, but after the initial pinch they melded into a mild throbbing. It’s hard to tell from this pic, but he’d put me into a straight jacket and had put a leather hood over my head, which buckled securely on. He blindfolded me and then shoved a leather gag into my mouth.

I think my scream were pretty audible, even through the gag, when he began to whip my inner thighs and pussy. He was using this thing called a dragon’s tongue, which feels very much like a single tail (I had thought it was a single tail, until he told me later). The pain is very harsh, very much like the single tail whip. Maybe technically it’s wrong to call a dragon’s tail a “whip,” but I was, in effect, being whipped, on a very, very sensitive part of my anatomy.

I was already sore. Prior to this segment of our play date, he’d used a hairbrush and a bathbrush on my ass. Yes, yes, I’m “into” domestic discipline, I’m “into” spanking. As anyone who’s into spanking knows, the hairbrush alone can be one of the nastiest toys around. I personally find it harder to take than a caning. My brush was hard, polished wood, with a slightly convex surface, so that the point of impact is very very small and concentrated. When he switched to the bath brush the impact increased. That implement is thicker and has a longer handle to allow much harder strokes. Spike used it on me while I was making his bed (he likes me to do a few chores when I visit) and it felt brutal.

He laughed and says, “Don’t be a baby!” This is a phrase he’s used a lot in our play, so I actually made him a t-shirt with that saying on it — and he was wearing it on Sunday, to my amusement. My amusement had left the building, however, during the bath brushing. I know he doesn’t really think that I’m a baby. I can actually take quite a bit. I just don’t often take it quietly. I can’t say there’s ever been an occasion that I’ve taken a bath brushing quietly. I will yelp and twitch and eventually cry or scream if pushed hard and long enough. His was a tease, he pushed me just enough to have me jumping and crying out, but then let me focus on finishing up the bed.

The straightjacket, the clothespins, the dragon tail were what he’d planned as the main course. … um, oh, yeah, there was this little bit of knife play first.
This was a sharp knife. He poked me with it a few times, inspiring some vocalizing on my part. I was already bound in position on the bed but had some mobility. I froze when I felt his fingers inside me, guiding it into my pussy. He told me later he only pushed it as far as his fingers could reach. Then he says, “Don’t move.” I was breathing softly. Moving was the last thing I wanted to do. He took a few pictures. (I appreciate that; it’s nice to have memories of intense scenes). I remember at the time thinking in my head, “I wish he would use the knife after he takes it out. I wish he would carve his initials, or maybe “Sir,” onto my stomach or thigh. I think a lot of things when I’m that floating subby place.

I’ll continue this shortly with more details about the whipping and what followed…

I wanted to post a little update about “My First Spanking,” the spanking anthology I’m editing for Ravenous Romance. I’ve received about 20 stories already, and I am going to start narrowing down my choices, this week.

There is still time to get your stories in, and I could definitely use a few more.

Make them quirky, romantic, or sexy — as long as they meet the guidelines (see details here), send them in! Submissions are due by the end of January. So far I’m enjoying the variety of themes people have submitted.

Ravenous Romance is run by a Domme friend of mine in the local community, and I’m happy to be joining her list of editors. I do realize that I still need to be writing myself. The last several weeks I’ve been very busy with other freelance (editing) projects, but I’ve met all those deadlines and I can now focus on this book and on my own stories. I’m happy I have at least started a new piece of fiction. I’m not happy that I have about 3 or 4 other stories started but not finished. All of these need to be looked at again and fleshed out. But one thing at a time.

Questions? Email me at mscassandrapark@gmail.com

Weekend was lots of fun. I was feeling much better after my pre- and just-past New Year’s illness. My cough lingers mildly, but I’m fine. Obviously, I’m back to work and this’ll be the first full week of the year. My day job is busy, a little tedious, but not difficult or stressful.

Friday night I was tired after a long week, but I was invited at the last minute to a kinky birthday party not too far from where we live. It was a tiny, low-key gathering of friends plus a few people I didn’t know well. I enjoyed the company and watching others play, in spite not being up to playing myself. And the cake was delicious.

On Saturday night it was another kinky birthday party, this one a little more lively. I’d had plenty of time to rest for this one, and I was itching to play. I got to top my friend J., which was fun, although our timing was off — someone decided it was time to sing Happy Birthday right in the middle of our scene, and J. said he couldn’t get back into the right head space afterward. Hopefully he still had a good time.

I bottomed to another friend, a fun Dom I’ve known for the past year but never had the opportunity to do a serious scene with (I think he gave me a few strokes with a cane at one prior party). Saturday’s scene was perfect. He was wicked and unpredictable, and pushed me just right, using nasty toys on my butt, thighs, back and calves. The calves are a particularly difficult place to take pain, speaking for myself. I struggled a little with that, but he ordered me to stay in position and I did my best. I made a lot of noise, though! (If I have to keep still, then I’m going to yell). At one point he leaned over and asked if I’d had enough. I responded, “You’re in charge, Sir.” He grabbed my hair and pulled, saying, “I asked you a question!” I was in pain, but not ready to quit. I only paused briefly before answering: “No, Sir.” He let go of my hair, stepped back and thrashed me some more. Mmmmm.

We were in the basement of our host’s house and there were others around. My friend said we’d have to do a more private, more intense scene soon. Sounds good to me. I hope we can arrange it around both our busy schedules…

Tomorrow I’m off to Brentwood for the Long Island Leather N Roses meeting. Seems like ages since I’ve been out there, but it’s really only been a few weeks. There’s not going to be a demo but rather a planning meeting for upcoming meetings.