May 4, 2010


In my 33 years of adventuring, I have yet to ride a real live horse. The opportunity just never presented itself. So in lieu of an actual horse, I have seized the moment, taken the reins, and ridden two very different kinds.

The first, although seemingly mild to the initiated, is a horse of the iron variety: a Harley. I'm not a biker chick, far from it, but the exhilaration of having a vibrating machine between my legs, the wind whipping my face, and a strong man to hold onto is certainly approaching "addiction" status. Vroom, vroom!

The other, the one of more consequence to this blog, is a sawhorse. This piece of pervertible spanking furniture is a must for any home.

While outfitted in my schoolgirl uniform, I was bound over a padded sawhorse, legs restrained at one set of feet and hands cuffed at the other. My short skirt, as photographic evidence proved, hid nothing. Of course, it didn't help that my panties had been removed. And the most movement I could accomplish was a bit of grinding and scooching, accentuating my complete vulnerability.

In this position, I was at the mercy of a fairly sadistic man. Sadistic, in my mind, can be an extremely good thing. I was pushed further than ever: the pain of the paddle and the crop, his hand and the strap, was almost too great for even this die-hard spanking enthusiast. But he knew just when to relent and offer up some pleasure.

So I floated there, in the hazy area between pain and pleasure, physical fire, for an unknown amount of time. (Video footage says it was just over a half an hour, but it definitely seemed longer.)

Bound and spanked over a sawhorse: that beats the ponies at the County Fair any day!

Giddyup, horsey!

(Photo courtesy of


  1. Fairly sadistic, huh? Next time we ride, I'm wearing spurs!

  2. Fantastic!


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