Fire Flogged!

Following Fulani’s post about our holiday, I’ve been asked what it feels like to be flogged by fire. I wonder how people guessed I might know the answer to that? It’s an interesting question. Of course, we take thorough precautions when playing with fire, and have an extinguisher ready, as well as lots of cold water to treat any burns with, a first aid kit and my own first aid trained Fulani. I have to strip, as clothes could cause serious burns if they caught alight. Don’t try this stuff if you don’t know what you’re doing, please. A recent domestic accidental burn has left me even more careful as the pain was ridiculously high and has left a nasty scar.
What does it feel like? Well, an ordinary flogger is quite thuddy and hard, but a fire flogger is surprisingly lightweight. When used correctly, it hits the skin very quickly, and for this reason, believe it or not, doesn’t hurt. It’s an interesting experience. You feel the flogger, and feel the heat, but it glances over the skin so fast that, although I have in the past been convinced that there would be marks or burns, fire flogging has never damaged my skin or even left a red mark. I am so confident I’ve recommended to friends to try it. One of those friends is in the pictures in the last post. He loved it! You feel a stingy glow and of course the excitement (biggest BDSM tool being the brain) work wonders. We have been known, after doing a demo, to disappear for a while on our own. Over to your imagination now!


Getting on with things

We haven’t been posting as much as usual on here over the last few weeks. We’ve been getting on with other things that have turned out to be a little time-consuming.

Fulani wrote a novella. Currently being considered by a publisher, we’ll see how that goes.

He also, bearing in mind we’re at a pagan camp for the next few days, got round to making a firewhip. Pagan camps is where we do bits of fireplay and we wanted something new this time. Frankly, we were going to buy a firewhip but the companies we tend to use for fire performance equipment were out of stock.

It looks crude, because it is, but it does crack. Loudly.

Home-made fire whip

Hone-made firewhip

Apart from that we have things we’re used before: the fire flogger and the fire rope. If you want to see older pics of these things in use, they’re on a post ‘Playing with Fire’ we did back in January (opens in a new window). We should have some new pics in a couple of weeks…

The flogger is the only one of these things that can be used on actual humans, of course. And while it’s scary for the person being flogged, the logic of it is that the flames brush across the skin so quickly, because it has to spin fast, that the heat is much less significant than the sound of flames roaring as it travels through the air and the whole headspace of having it done. Once the thing is alight, you have to keep it spinning otherwise anyone holding it will get their hand burned off. For the person being flogged, hair, obviously, does need to be wetted down (on fact we usually damp down the skin as well) and long hair kept well out of the way…

The rope is far to large and unwieldy to be used in play, though it does make for pretty pictures. And the whip should, in theory, not just crack but send a small ball of fire off the tip when it cracks. Again it’s for performance rather than play. Probably.

Home made fire flogger

Home-made fire flogger

Fire rope

Fire rope

Safety stuff. We don’t use these things without a good space (usually around 10 metres) between ‘performer’ and anyone watching, and we do have a safety spotter and fire extinguishers to hand. If necessary we wet down the ground where the things are being used as well. These are not toys for playing with anywhere other than outdoors with a lot of space around.

Apart from that, we’ve been out and about doing fun things at clubs, and playing at home since Velvet decided we no longer need a separate guest bedroom (she kept cracking her shins on the corner of the bed, so it’s been replaced with a fold-out sofabed) and cleared room in there so it could come back into use as a private playspace.

Oh, and Fulani did write at least the first part of a story based on the fact it’s now the music festival season. But you’ll have to go to his other blog to read it – called ‘The Museum of Deviant Dreams, on the Fulanismut blog (opens in new window). Maybe the second part will get written while we’re away…

Inflamed – new free erotic short story by Fulani

When I agreed to spend the day in the woods, I imagined we’d have sex. Wanted sex. I pictured a sunny afternoon, dappled shade in a grassy clearing well away from footpaths or inquisitive eyes. I pictured a blanket spread on the ground, warmed by the sun, clothing carelessly flung aside. I pictured you lying warm between my legs, the smell of you, the gentle, seductive movements of our hips together, the consensually brutal thrusts of you inside me as we achieved our climax. I imagined us together, harsh breaths, barks and howls with no one around to hear. I pictured the animal qualities of our coupling, tod and vixen or he-wolf and bitch. Would I be your bitch? In that sense, yes, it was my aim.
What you didn’t tell me was that you owned the wood. Nineteen acres of beech and oak, purchased because there are tax breaks on the investment. And because it means you can play the games you like to play.
That’s why the centre of the clearing is baked earth. It’s why there are two thick upright timber poles set in the ground there. And the fact you like to play games is the reason I’m tied, naked, ankles spread and roped to the base of the poles and wrists splayed out, one attached to the top of each pole.
It’s dusk, and you’re not here. ‘Just wait for me,’ you said, that smirk playing on your lips because you knew I wasn’t going to be going anywhere until you released me. But it’s been a while. I know there are no dangerous beasts in the woods these days, but I imagine a dragon, a monster. Then I imagine a tribe of bikers coming to set up camp and don’t know whether to go with the horrified reaction of my brain or the darkly exquisite thrill I feel low in my belly.
My arms and legs are aching. This stretched position is fine for an hour, but the muscles in my arms have begun to give out and I’m slumped in the ropes, dangling helplessly. If you were here you’d appreciate how I look, nude and vulnerable in a forest clearing. A scene that must be timeless, or even beyond time, straight out of a fantasy…
What if? What if you’d gone back to the car and had an accident? What if you’re lying on the path, bleeding from having stumbled and hit your head on a rock? What if you’ve just decided to leave me here for the night? What if you’ve… But I hear footfalls behind me.
I watch as you put down the bag you’ve been carrying, circle the clearing to gather brushwood, pile it up to make a small fire. In the flickering half-light I see you lay out some implements, can’t make out what they are.
But I can smell paraffin.
When you approach me, a burning fire staff in your hand, I feel somersaults in my belly. We’ve played with ice, with knives, with electricity. You’ve told me you like fire but for me this is new, uncharted territory. You’ve removed your clothes, too. This feels like a pagan rite, like witchcraft. We’re not naked, but skyclad.
Skyclad or not, when you stand in front of me, taller than me, I feel your cock engorged, pressing into my belly. Your left hand caresses me, reaches up to the side of my neck, my hair, grasps a handful of hair and pulls my head back so I see only the now-dark sky.
‘Lick the flames!’
And the dark sky is alight. You’re holding the fire staff above my face, I can feel its heat. And you want me to put my tongue out of my mouth and into the flames?
Well, I do it. And I should have thought of this: heat rises, so while the base of the flame is hot, it’s bearable. A moist tongue flicking at it briefly isn’t going to burn.
‘Good bitch,’ he murmurs.
When you take the fire away I can barely see. My eyes can’t adjust that quickly. But I can feel. I feel the flames, moving swiftly up and down my body. Not too long in any one spot, just enough that I jump and fizzle inside as though they’re just reflections of the sexual heat contained in me.
Abruptly you turn and walks away. I feel bereft, your attention gone. I try to draw a mental connection to your cock, make it come back to me. I want to be limp and powerless in the ropes, your prisoner, with your cock pushing inside me, ferocious, predatory…
But then there’s more, bigger fire swirling and roaring. It takes seconds to work out what it is.
It’s the fire-flogger, strands of wicking fixed to a wooden handle, and if you doesn’t keep it spinning it will burn your hand. You move quickly behind me.
I feel your foot pushing at the back of my left knee, making it buckle. The same on my right. You’re making me hang in the ropes, my body weight taken on my wrists. Your hand on the back of my head pushes it forwards. I’m glad now I had the courage to get my hair restyled. A lesbian cut you called it, amused I’d had it done short at the back. I’m glad because long hair would be in the way right now.
I yelp at the pressure on my wrists and then scream as I hear the dull roar, the whoomph of the flogger reaching out for me. I feel its heat brush down my spine, see flame out of the corners of my eyes and jumping shadows on the ground in front of me. I feel its heat in split-second bursts on my skin, in my essence, my juices, my psyche.
It feels like I’m attracting the flames to me. It’s me that’s incendiary. And someone laughs manically, cackles or crackles as if possessed. As I am, in fact, by a shaman with the fire flogger.
It’s me, laughing….
When the flogger burns out you lay it to one side, carefully, and lay me down, carefully. You don’t untie my ankles. You release my wrists to lay me on the ground, resecure them to a log placed handily nearby. Your weight presses on me. Your engorged cock, earlier thrust against my belly, fits inside me hot and sweet and violent. When I look into your eyes, they’re tiny, deep glowing coals.
I come, howling and shaking. I come more times than I can count. I come until I no longer know who I am or where we are.
And afterwards, when your seed is in me, I look up to the sky and see flames dancing there, the afterimage of the flogger. And I know that we are made of stars and made through fire.


Liked it? Fulani hasn’t written other stories specifically about fireplay though there are some fire scenes in his novel. But you may enjoy others listed at the ‘Stories Available Now’ link at the top of the page. And remember, there are pics of Fulani doing firestuff available as mugs, mouse pads, T-shirts, iPad cases and a bunch of other products over at the Caffimages Zazzle Store! Be good and buy stuff because we get to share in the profits…

Playing with fire, a post by Fulani

Eye of the fire

Eye of the fire

Yes, we enjoy playing with fire. Literally. And we don’t really do small fires, because usually we’re out at a pagan camp in the middle of a field somewhere, so there’s room to do stuff like fire-flogging and the kind of thing that Fulani describes as ‘flinging fire around’.

Fire has many attractions beyond fetish and bdsm, because it stirs our primal and primitive senses. But it can be incorporated into bdsm play in a wide range of ways. Our ways tend to be big and crude, require some preparation due to safety issues, and there’s a lot of safety information in this post. But even if you’re just playing with a couple of candles, take care, because setting fire to your bedroom lampshade causes a whole lot of hassle – and setting fire to your bedsheets is only fun if it’s a metaphorical fire and not a real one.

To digress for a moment, Velvet Tripp is pagan through-and-through, while Fulani just thinks the credo of ‘Do as ye will an’ harm ye none’ is a good basic moral code. Not that that’s important, except to explain that this is the kind of thing we do in front of an audience, and a long way from anything (cars, houses, tents and so on) that might catch fire. Unless you have at least an acre of garden DO NOT DO THIS AT HOME!

Fire flogging

Fire flogging

Anyway… fire flogging is quite spectacular. However, and obviously, it can also be dangerous, and requires a lot of care and attention if it is to be done with any reasonable degree of safety.

In particular, you need to ensure:

    – the person being flogged either has very short hair or has it tucked well away from any flames.
    – the person being flogged is naked, or at least any clothing is well out of the way. Clothes can catch fire.
    – there are fire extinguishers instantly available. Water may be an option but be aware that burning paraffin can just float on it. CO2 extinguishers are better.
    – spare paraffin containers and other burnables need to be well out of harm’s way. This also means preventing the risk of them being knocked over by spectators or set fire to by a careless smoker.
    – those being flogged, doing the flogging, and anyone else involved have not been drinking or doing anything else that might make them lose concentration.
    – the audience is well out of harm’s way, if necessary behind a safety barrier of some kind.
    – since it’s usually done at night, so the flames are easily seen, those involved should have checked and set up the area earlier, during daylight. Check there are no obstructions on the ground, etc. etc. Also make sure a torch is available.
    – what’s the ground like? Dry grass, especially long grass, will burn. Make sure you’re not going to set fire to the area you’re performing on. If necessary, hose down the ground!
    – if restraints are involved there needs to be extra consideration for safety. Who’s going to deal with the situation if the person doing the flogging has managed to set themselves and their victim on fire? Can the victim be released quickly (as in, within a few seconds)? Is any stock of paraffin far enough away not to pose a threat? What’s the safeword? And so on.

The flogger we use is extremely home-made – about 8 strands of wicking secured to a couple of feet of old broom handle with a jubilee clip. Soaked in paraffin for a couple of minutes it makes a big, scary flame – and if you’re holding it, remember it’s got to be kept spinning all the time it’s burning. Otherwise the strands hang down and the flame will take all the skin off your hand.

The victim: I wipe down Velvet’s back with a damp cloth. A thin layer of water is a reasonable extra precaution to prevent burns. ONLY the back/buttocks, and only with the victim standing or bent at the waist; trying to flog someone’s front risks facial burns, scorched pubic hair (unless shaved of course) and other nasties.

The flogging relies on speed. It looks spectacular but the ends of the flogger strands are only in contact with skin for a tiny fraction of a second. So the victim does get a certain amount of heat, but the main effects are the roar of the flames as the flogger spins and what looks to an audience like a circle of flame consuming someone.

Don’t go for a ‘hit’ every time the flogger swings. Give skin time to cool a bit: maybe a couple of quick brushes on someone’s back with the end of the flogger, then move away for several seconds before doing it again. And if someone has a hairy back, have them shave it first!

We don’t have any usable pics of Velvet being fire-flogged, so the one above is him flogging someone else.

The pic at the head of this post, by the way, comes from Fulani swinging six feet of burning kevlar rope around. The rope is attached to a short chain and this links to a handle made from an 18-inch length of broom handle. While six feet of one-inch diameter rope is surprisingly heavy, it can be swung at speed to create the effect you see in the pic.

All the previous warnings apply. Fire doesn’t have favourites and you don’t have a ‘relationship’ with it. If you’re going to try this out, take all the safety precautions mentioned above and try it out with an unlit rope until you have enough skill not to wrap it around yourself. Burns clinics are not fun places.

Fireplay is, it has to be said, a primal and satisfying thing. There are plenty of people who enjoy it, and even an annual festival of fire – we think called the Fire Gathering – you can find out more about from who also sell fireplay equipment and, crucially, have a forum that includes safety topics. Neither the site nor the advice is fetish oriented, but the equipment and advice is the same whatever you’re planning. Just remember that like many fun activities, from rock-climbing to motor racing, observing safety precautions is an absolute must.

Fire drumming

Fire drumming

We do other things with fire as well. Fulani has a fire drum, basically a metal tray on a firm support, onto which a thin layer of paraffin can be poured. Hit it quickly with a firestick and the paraffin that jumps into the air will catch fire while what stays in the tray won’t. It’s an add-on to some of the other stuff we do.

Now for the sales pitch. Fulani’s playing with fire has not only been captured on camera, but the photographer has released the images on a range of products – mugs, posters, mouse pads etc. – on her Zazzle store. Fulani on a mouse pad? Who’d have believed it? If you look at the image below and the Fulani logo used on this site, actually, you’ll see the logo is a cropped version of the mousepad pic…

Too hot to handle

Too hot to handle (mouse pad etc!)

Would we benefit financially if you buy stuff there? Frankly, yes. But equally frankly, it would take an awful lot of mouse pads even to make enough pennies to buy the next couple of litres of paraffin and make one or two other firetoys…

Skull iphone case

Skull iphone case

Finally, just to show what else is available, here’s a skull on an iPhone case that the same photographer has on Zazzle. She’s nothing if not versatile.


Wait – no mention of books and fiction? Well, Fulani’s Secret Circus novel does have a fireplay scene towards the end. But then it’s got a lot of other scenes in it as well, including the steam-powered fucking machine… Time’s a little tight at the moment but when he has time, he’ll do a fire story for the blog.