The Berlin Sex Diary of Lady Eve Marlowe contains adult subject matter and is intended for readers 18+ only
23 February 1928
I never expected a paddling could give a girl so much pleasure.
I imagined myself lying on black velvet, its extreme softness cushioning each blow like a man’s strong hands holding me, pressing into my flesh, whispering to me to relax and enjoy it. I arched my back, imagining him inserting a teasing finger inside me, exploring me, finding me wet. Moaning, I twisted and turned, wanting more.
I let go of my inner fear, reveling in this new image of myself as a woman who seeks pleasure under the guiding hand of a man with a taste for the erotic. I couldn’t explain my fascination for it, as if I’d shed a veil of opaqueness that underneath lay hidden my true desire. Dark, dramatic, sensuous torture.
Not vulgar or base, but stimulating and outrageous behavior that conjured up images of forbidden delights, exotic violet flowers and the smell of sweet warm honey dripping down my inner thighs.
Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I didn’t protest when someone blindfolded me with a red satin mask. In my mind I imagined it was the man in the black Fedora. His gaze riveting, drawing me in. I tensed when I felt his hot breath on the back of my neck, his fingers stroking my skin. My logic told me that was impossible, but I didn’t care. To satisfy my frenzied need for the stranger, I pretended it was his strong hand that wielded the paddle.
I couldn’t stop the intense feelings making my pubic muscles contract when he ran his fingers across my bare buttocks, then continued paddling me, one cheek than the other, making me squirm. The stinging sensations filled me with a warmth and unexpected delight as I settled into the rhythm of his loving paddle.
My body bucked harder, submitting to the magic of the fantasy being played out in the hotel room, my senses spiraling up a ladder of excitement to such a feverish pitch I couldn’t breathe, the heat of the moment overcoming me each time he struck the long wooden paddle across my buttocks, making me tighten my clenched muscles. I imagined my skin flushed a pink glow, my sweat glistening like a patina as soft as dew and as fragrant as fresh rain.
Panting hard and moaning for more, I begged him not to stop, the scent of my perfume shooting up my nostrils and deepening into a pungent musky essence, its potent smell urging me onward. Frustration to find the release I so desperately needed made me push my buttocks out farther, meeting the smooth wooden paddle with a daring I could tell pleased the monocled gentleman when I heard him gasp loudly. It was him whose breath I felt on my neck, wasn’t it?
He spanked me faster, the pressure in my groin building until I couldn’t stand it any longer. My excitement grew with each stroke, his aim perfect and well-timed. I braced myself for the next blow, then the next, knowing I would soon lose control.
A feverish ecstasy came over me when–
A billowing arc of fiery sensations hit me and every fiber in my being cried out with joy, relishing the freedom to savor this sweet punishment. I let out a scream as wave after wave of an intense orgasm hit me, my starved body trembling, shivering and writhing so hard I ripped the covering on the chair with my nails, making long jagged tears in the silk.
The entire experience unnerved me. I didn’t care. I could never go back to where I’d been.
Exhausted, I collapsed onto the plush chair, purring and contented, satiated in an ambience heavy with lust and perfume, paradise itself .
Next time: Eve is lured into a secret love cult.