Aerogel, also know as frozen smoke, is the world’s lowest density solid, clocking in at 96% air. If you hold a small piece in your hand, it’s practically impossible to either see or feel, but if you poke it, it’s like styrofoam. It supports up to 4,000 times its own weight and can withstand a direct blast from two pounds of dynamite. It’s also the best insulator in existence.
make a nice jumper n pants out of that shit and then go to war, be invincible, never back down
Oh it is ALWAYS hammertime!!!
I love pictures that tell a story, and this one is particularly engaging. Is she being prepared for discipline? Will she be punished? Or is this simply part of her training?
Some see these terms as interchangeable. I don’t. A girl may require spankings, paddlings, or floggings as part of her training if she has not yet experienced these on her journey. She may also be trained to accept these as pleasurable sensations if they are a particular love of mine (which they are - in moderation) and/or a challenge I wish her to face.
Should my girl falter along the way, I might use spankings, paddlings, or floggings to discipline her and provide a “reminder” or a “teaching moment”. Sessions like these would include a whispered dialog to reinforce my expectations and bring her forward. Discipline can be a very rewarding experience on both sides.
In extreme cases, where a girl knowingly commits a transgression, she will be punished. This is my least favorite part of the dance. It addresses a failing, and it must be administered to reinforce my disappointment (or disgust), my expectations of her, and the need to establish equilibrium. The right girl will be ashamed to know she has disappointed me and will welcome punishment in order to purge the incident, beg forgiveness, and gain closure.
In considering this picture, I might have a different motivation. Pure carnal lust and erotic passion. My girl might have the body of a dancer, with beautiful lines, long legs, and an ass that just begs to be spanked. I would find this an amazingly erotic sight, and I would love turning such a gorgeous ass the right shade of scarlet.
Think of how this picture tells the story. As she stands, ankles bound to the bench, she will most likely drip in anticipation. She knows she is being positioned for my pleasure, and she knows she will be bent over the bench and spanked (or more). She presents herself in the most flattering pose possible, and this simply feeds my hunger.
She wants it. Needs it. Hungers for it. Desires it. Craves it.
And she will get it.
Sessions like this always end up with my favorite post-script. A good cock sucking, followed by an amazingly intense fucking. In both holes. Rich, deep, and full. While bound to the bench.
She will definitely get it.
I try not to discriminate between cut and uncut
All cocks are special in their own unique way
But i have to admit that this one is gorgeous
And i do have a soft spot for a foreskin
A soft, warm, wet spot in fact…
Begging. Ah, there’s something about begging which is just so utterly appealing to me.
It’s something I actually think about a lot. Not in terms of what I want to say, not even in terms of what I actually want to beg for. But just… begging. The state of mind which comes with that act. The constant flow of words, relentless and unstopping, rambling and incoherent, yet perfectly focused towards one primary desire - whatever that particular desire happens to be at the moment.
It’s the sense of desperation behind the words that is so significant to me. The state of mind - which, at that point, is better described as a state of being.
My mind is generally unstoppable. Thoughts upon thoughts, second-guesses, rationalizations, interpretations, doubts, wonderings, instantaneous judgments on what to say and what not to say… I’m also hindered by shyness - especially when it pertains to asking for something that I want. That’s made worse with Sir, when my primary desires tend to focus on pleasing him; to think about what I want often seems so very selfish - sometimes even when my desire is nothing more than to do what he wants!
And so, very often, the things I think about, the things I want - they don’t make it past my head. They flit through my mind, mixed in with countless other thoughts, and never cross my lips. Are often never even acknowledged.
But oh… to beg. To reach that state of desperation where I can no longer think clearly. When I can no longer rationalize, justify, or pick apart where I am or what I should be thinking, what I should be doing. To be reduced to a state beyond mere want - to exist in nothing more than an agony of need, such that what flies through my head escapes my lips in the next instant. To be released from my mind, to let go of all rational thought… to become utterly wanton, guileless, exposed and open, empty of all but my desires…
I want that. Crave that.
I almost want to beg…. to be able to beg.
A flogger, a set of cuffs and a sexy ass…everything you need for a evening of fun