Niamh Black

Spanking’s been on my mind for about as long as I’ve had one. I didn’t always have the words for it, but I knew there was something in the ritual, the structure, the sense of boundaries being lovingly but firmly redrawn. I remember hearing about people getting the cane at school and being absolutely riveted—not out of fear, but something closer to awe. It felt like a moment where the ordinary rules got suspended, and something else—quieter, deeper—stepped in.

Years later, having finally stepped into the scene, I discovered that yes: spanking still does that for me. Only now, I get to chase the delicious emotional architecture of it. The way power shifts through a glance. The way humour and humiliation can twist together like two strands of rope. The way someone’s voice changes once the last bit of bravado is gone. It’s not just about pain—it’s about meaning. If a scene leaves me laughing, squirming, floating, and a little bit cracked open, it’s a good one.

I’m a switch, though I prefer the term “chaotic energy with follow-through.” I top with precise sadism and a suspicious amount of affection. I bottom with the kind of bratty sarcasm that should probably come with a warning label. I am, for instance, the sort of person who, when told to say “thank you, kitten,” replies—without missing a beat—”thank you kitten.” I regret everything. (I regret nothing.)

For me, being vulnerable in a scene isn’t just about reaction—it’s about relief. I’ve always felt that submission can offer something like forgiveness. When someone takes control with care and presence, it lets you let go of guilt you didn’t know you were holding. And when you come back to yourself afterward—marked, endorphin-drunk, unguarded—it feels a little like grace.

On camera, I’m just me turned up a notch. Smirking more. Wearing fewer trousers. I love scenes with emotional weight, with believable dynamics and slow-building tension—especially between characters who know each other well. I’m less interested in yelling and caricature, and more into the quiet intimacy of a dynamic that slips in sideways: friends who maybe shouldn’t, partners who definitely will. The magic moment where play becomes performance, and performance becomes truth.

Outside of kink I’m an engineer, rope nerd, podcast junkie, history obsessive, and collector of niche fascinations. I build systems for a living, and scenes for joy. Rope appeals to my love of patterns. E-stim appeals to my love of pressing buttons (literally and metaphorically). I like my sensation layered, my dynamics earned, and my humour dry enough to be flammable.

I see this work as personal expression—but also as activism. I’ve spent years wrestling with shame over what I wanted. Now I want to show people—genuinely, unashamedly—that it’s okay to want this. That it can be art. That it can be funny. That it can be beautiful.

Dreams of Spanking has always felt like one of the few spaces that holds all of that at once. Getting to step into that world—to bring my own weird, wired, affectionate, exasperating self to the screen—is honestly a joy. I’m here for the bruises, the banter, the bruised banter, and the kind of scenes that leave you grinning and sore in equal measure.