The guards barely touch you, and you’ll certainly find no warmth in the machine they’ve given you to for your punishment. It simply strikes, withdraws, resets, and strikes again, as the people operating it watch the screen with impassive expressions.

The two women take it in turns, each wearing a firm plastic cock, fucking each other with gasping thrusts until their carefully cultivated professional distance feels very far away indeed.

Parts work without ethics can feel frightening. Ethics without compassion can become rigid self-policing. I’m increasingly convinced the real work is holding both: curiosity about what lives in the shadow, and deep care for how we relate to it.

What could be better than an excuse to do something you wanted to do anyway? Blake and Victoria have been running out of excuses for three films now, and at long last they’ve stopped looking for them.

There are some big changes behind the scenes at Dreams of Spanking. We're delighted to formally announce @poppapig.bsky.social , Nimue Allen and more as part of the growing team!

I didn’t build this work from a master plan. I built it by listening: to the people in the room, to what they were actually struggling with, to what made them feel safer, braver, more curious. The whole thing has grown organically from relationship.

Slowly, piece by piece, they’ve stripped it all away: the professional façade, the schoolmarmy reticence, the silky lingerie. By the time we reach our climax, Blake and Victoria have nothing left to hide behind.

One of the most moving things about this summer has been watching people say things out loud they’d never told another human being - and be met with grace. Shame dissolves surprisingly fast when we stop treating complexity as something that makes us less lovable.

The paperwork is forgotten, the punishment is over, and the pretence of discipline has vanished with the last of their clothes. All that remains is the deliciously explicit finale Blake and Victoria have yearned for all along.

The paperwork is forgotten, the punishment is over, and the pretence of discipline has vanished with the last of their clothes. All that remains is the deliciously explicit finale Blake and Victoria have yearned for all along.

What if we treated our darkest fantasies not as evidence that we’re bad, but as places where exiled parts of us are trying to speak? That question has been at the heart of my work all summer, and I keep finding more gold in the shadows.

The rules are simple enough: roll the dice, try your luck, and pray the next dare isn’t worse than the last. Unfortunately for our contestants, something has to ‘level up’ every time!

Kinky parenthood is the art of gratefully making the most of whatever opportunities you get: a quick market wander, a short but deep public scene, efficient aftercare, then straight back into parent mode. Project ‘more local kinky friends’ is underway!

Three lucky contestants, one bag of dares, and a suspicious number of implements on the table. This week we’re asking the important game-night question: how brave are you really?

Last weekend I got to take my partner into a dungeon for a short, deep scene: flogger, hand spanking, and their first taste of the belt. I love receiving their trust and surrender, and I love using my craft to shift something deep for someone I love.

It’s game night, and Denali has something new to suggest: Liar’s Dice, but with a kinky twist. Lose a round, pull a dare from the bag. Funny how almost every dare seems to involve spanking…

I went looking for a real leather chest harness for my birthday. I came home thinking about a custom “booby trap” made from reclaimed whiskey barrel oak instead. Every time I remember trying it on, I get turned on all over again.

By the final roll, the game has rather got away from them: the dares are spankier, the clothes are fewer, and everyone at the table looks much less calm than when they started.

Since hearing Bristol has a monthly BDSM market and play party with a big spanko contingent, my partner and I have been dying to go. It took more than a year and some beautiful queer family mutual aid, but we finally made it!

Welcome to Warmup With Willow: your guide to preparing for the spanking of your dreams. Twist, lunge, stretch and giggle along - then see whether all that limbering up was really worth it!

This is what happens when we expand. We finally get the thing we’ve been wanting - the party, the fantasy, the yes - and our vulnerable parts get freaked out. Inner Critic, thank you. We’re safe. I’ll take it from here.

I have a part I call my More Monster: hedonistic, greedy, infinitely playful, and rarely satisfied. They love sex, kink and chocolate biscuits. They want more fun, more stimulation, and for playtime to last forever.

This routine is definitely all about limbering up, and not at all about showing off boobs and bums to the camera before getting to enjoy a nice naked spanking. Definitely. Yes.

Kinky house parties used to be a regular feature of my weekends. Adult company, pleasure-positive vibes, low-key kink with friends…there’s something quietly affirming about sluttiness happening in someone’s living room. It makes it feel delightfully normal.

Pesky spine getting in the way of your perfect spanking pose? Never fear: Willow has stretches, lunges and suspiciously useful camera angles to help you get all warmed up.

Somewhere between sipping white wine from a golden pineapple and watching two babes slosh jelly and cream over each other in a paddling pool, I thought: I want to go to Slut Club. Then I realised…I was already there.

Vulnerability doesn’t disqualify you from leadership. Done consciously, it IS leadership. Peeling off my layers in front of people who chose to witness me left me more resourced to guide them into their own experience. Who knew?

Eryn, Roo and Vee didn’t choose the sub life: ater a hard day’s work of scum and villainy, these hardened scoundrels are here to prove they’re far too tough to cry. Obviously.

When Willow said, I don’t know what ritually murdering Pandora Blake means, but I’m in, I knew I’d chosen the right people. I asked them to be mean. I asked them to build slowly. I told them what I wanted. And it still took my breath away.

I asked Nimue and Willow to strip Pandora Blake from me piece by piece. They did. Then I rose as Blake Becoming: mentor, facilitator, healer. Letting go of a name I’ve been shedding since 2017 needed witnesses, ceremony, laughter, tears and bruises.