The term “classic” is used frequently–perhaps too frequently–in describing a movie, book, car, etc, but what does “classic” really mean? How many things actually deserve the designation “Classic?”
According to the dictionary, something is a classic if it serves as a standard for excellence, or is enduring, authentic and authoritative. I’ve been a professional Domme for 10 years. I’ve conducted approximately 5000 sessions. I keep up on all the latest trends in BDSM. I know all the current hot topics of fetish. I keep my dungeon stocked with all the best and brightest toys for fantasy play. I know my business and my business is bringing men to their knees. There are lots of women out there who claim it is their business, too, but how authoritative can someone be with something as complex and personal as sexuality when they are in their 20’s? How enduring and authentic can someone be when they have just begun to explore BDSM themselves? Sexual submission is safest and most fulfilling when submitting to someone who can teach while they dominate, not with someone who is learning as they go.
I inspire submission. I take joy from receiving the gift of groveling and am adept at giving the gift of orgasm. I set a standard for excellence. I endure. I am authentic. I positively ooze authority.
And what is classic Dom Dominique? When all is said and done–when all the fads are pushed aside and all the technology is shut off–what is the most enduring image left behind? That of a commanding woman with a deliciously dominant streak. Kitten with a whip? More like Goddess with an Attitude.
Behold the possibilities:
Joe is a classic kind of guy. He likes his submission to involve a healthy serving of body worship with a side of discipline and a little slice of anal play for dessert. He likes to keep it simple. He enjoys being on his knees or on his back for most of the session. He loves the feel of leather and flesh–soft, smooth, heavenly flesh–against his tongue. He gets annoyingly aroused by high heels grinding into his balls. A ruler smacking his ass takes him to the border of giddiness. And the agonizingly wonderful burn from a strap-on squeezing into his hole makes him damn near come. Permission from Mistress at just the right time and Joe finishes the party with a big old grin and one last mess to clean up.
Happy Holidays from Isle of Shadows! As ya’ll can see from my previous post our schedule of classes has been put on hold for the month of december. But January is time to gear back up with our classes and lots of new things. We’ll be opening our new art gallery “The Art Forge” for featured Second Life Artists and the grand opening of our Blues Museum “The Blues Factory” For everyone who loves the blues, sponsored by our parent non profit Shadow Ventures, Inc and Radio Free Atlanta. Plus Jovial will be continuing her book readings from great BDSM Lifestyle authors as well as new classes from our other instructors. It’s hard to believe that we’ve been open in SL for 3 years! But it looks like this will be our most interesting one. Isle of Shadows is currently working to qualify for non profit status from Linden Lab as an educational venue for alternative lifestyles. Shadow Ventures, Inc. our parent company has already received non profit certification from the state of GA! So thats just the first step. Now on to the federal government The IRS and qualifying as a 501c3! Wish us luck!
So Ya’ll don’t be a stranger stop by Isle of Shadows and say hi! We’re still in SL and going strong lots of cool changes comming soon and we’ll contiinue to bring you quality education on the lifestyle throughout the year!
And if I post myself outside your door
Until I die, and if I parachute
Into your wedding in my birthday suit
And if I swear to leave you never more:
And if I toss myself across the floor
Like some old ripe and rotting piece of fruit,
And from this moment promise to be mute
Until you ooze with love from every pore:
And if I slice your name into my skin
And skip from here to York so all can see,
And if I do, I think I cannot win
Your love, but even so, remember me,
And think, sometimes, that this abyss I’m in
Was not just my responsibility.
Here is the latest review from Black Fox Bound on our new theatrical Bondage Film Docs:
This film is well put together and bears all the hallmarks of a classic sorority horror film with 3 very sexy girls starring in it! From the moment they entered the property and sexily taunted each other about the buildings history and events that happened there the film was all action. As one by one they are captured and tied up the acting and the bondage is really good. I loved the two girl scenes with the girls tied together and struggling! This film is very intense and has some very strong bondage and action scenes that will keep you glued to the screen right till the final climax!
I came across Pleasure Chemical whilst reading up on ‘limerence’ and ‘love addiction’ on the internet. People get addicted to things (drugs, sex, alcohol, love, etc) because their consumption (or consummation) releases pleasure chemicals in their system. Dopamine, vasopressin, oxytocin, serotonin, endogenous opioids – all of which induces what we experience as pleasure.
Maybe I’m looking into BDSM as yet another source I can tap into whenever I need an extra boost of pleasure chemicals in my system. God knows I do. Oh yes, I do believe in God and religion. but I’m not yet decided whether or not God really frowns on me for wanting to explore BDSM or if it is in fact irrelevant to Him/Her/It. I don’t think it matters, as long as I’m not hurting anyone else. And as for hurting myself, well, I think I’ve gone way past it for it to make much difference in my life.
It’s a slow process this exploration, but I’m in no hurry. And I hope my husband will not freak out when he finds out.
“Do you do anal?” is probably one of the most common questions to be asked as a woman (don’t know how many men are asked) on a hook up site, BDSM or otherwise.
There is no real simple answer for this for me. I have tried it – yes. It was okay. It was not my favourite thing in the world, but it was not bad. That being said it involved patient partners, and a lot of lube.
So, to put it crudely, if you are looking for a woman who routinely takes it up the ass like a pro… I’m not it. If anal is at the top of your ‘must have’ list I’m probably not your girl either.
However if it is something you have in your toolbox of tricks, and will take your time to make sure you don’t cause me serious injury. Then yes, you will probably play the back 9 with me.
“Laundry List”
There are a group of men (mostly) whose idea of ‘getting to know me’ involves spewing out a list of sex acts to see if I’ve done them or if I’ve tried them. Generally I don’t like “laundry list” men. There are many things I may try with the right partner, under the right circumstances. There are also many things I have tried that I may not think you are the right partner to repeat them with.
However, if you are dying to know what I will and won’t do, you can look at the Laundry List.
I suffered from depression for almost six years, during the time in my life when I was supposed to be having the time of my life. At 17, I got pregnant with my first child and I was in a pretty rough relationship. It didn’t help that I was an insanely jealous and suspicious girlfriend. Five months into my pregnancy, after telling my doctor that I thought I might be depressed, she immediately prescribed me Prozac, the one drug I always said I never wanted to be on. Two weeks into the treatment, in an awkward haze, I overdosed on the pills and was sentenced (for lack of a better word) to two weeks in the Children’s Mental Unit.
I got out and things seemed to go better for a time, a very short time. Sometime later, the relationship gets broken off, I end up being pregnant again. This kicks that depression right up there and off the charts. In a night, because of a stupid couch, my entire life changed. My baby’s Daddy, Alfie, and I had been broken up for a couple weeks, when he asked me to leave one night so he could “think” (because we stayed living together after we broke up for the sake of finances and the baby). “Thinking” ended up being having sex in our house with a random stranger.
Originally the couch they had slept together was downstairs. Even though Alfie had broken up with me, and then kicked me out of the house, I would still take our kid over there everyday, I would buy him food if he was running low and I would make sure he had smokes. Plus I was paying for all my habits and our year and a half old.
I go into the house one day, knowing he had sex with this girl a couple days beforehand, and I was in a good mood. I had just gotten paid and was buying goodies for everyone, because I’m really bad for doing that. The last thing I remember happening, that everyone else remembers happening too, is eating a piece of pizza. The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital with a security guard standing outside my door. Apparently, I had gone psychotic, cut my arms and legs (nothing serious, such as not deep or life-threatening, just superficial), got the cops called on me, and resisted arrest when they said they were putting me in an ambulance. I don’t remember any of this. I was 18 weeks pregnant with my second when this happened. I was certified for 30 days, and ended up getting released early because of legal issues.
After the stay in the hospital, I just kind of pushed through the depression. I’m really good at ignoring things when I’m too exhausted or pissed off to care. In the words of The Beatles, “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da, Life Goes On”. I had tried the anti-depressants and ended up in the hospital. I had gone to counsellors, psychiatrists and none of it was working. I kept ending up in the hospital. I pushed through it, often my only reasoning for going through it, was the fact that I couldn’t think of anyone that I knew who could do a better job at parenting my kids. I’m sure there’s a million people out there who could do a better job than me, but I don’t know any of them.
I stayed in that permanent state of depression for a seriously long time. Too long. Alfie and I got back together, of course. Love is blind. We do stupid things when we’re in love. No, none of that’s right. I couldn’t, didn’t want to let him go. Maybe it was revenge, like “You put me through this hell, and now you will suffer by having to stay with me, muwhahaha!” He was the one who called the ambulance on both suicide attempts. He had saved my life, surely he deserved forgiveness, right? So two years into it, we break it off. Nine months later we’re back together, and we were for about three years.
After three years of pretty much nothing but hell, we finally and officially called it quits. He knew it was serious when I got another boyfriend. Big twist neither of us were expecting. Alfie and The Boyfriend had been friends for 15 years, and the entire time Alfie and I were dating, I never thought of The Boyfriend as anything more than Alfie’s friend. But we had called it quits and The Boyfriend was showing interest and I was interested to not be with Alfie anymore. I knew if I didn’t have a reason not to, I would run back to his arms the second he asked me to. I was very courteous and respectful and asked Alfie before commencing any type of relationship with The Boyfriend, and Alfie gave me the go-ahead. The next day, The Boyfriend and I had sex. Amazing, wildly passionate sex. It was officially, or at least the boyfriend/girlfriend relationship was, over with Alfie. Unfortunately, if love is blind, lust is completely handicapped. For the first four months or so of The Boyfriend and I’s relationship, Alfie and I were still having sex, and it was very complicated for me, and a time of great transition.
I had always been a journal-er. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been writing journals, and blogging. During my spells with depression, journaling was the only thing that made anything better. I would write 4 or 5 times a day, chronicling the smallest and most irrelevant details of day to day life. When I started cheating, the journaling almost completely stopped. Too much of a chance of getting caught, as I often use journaling as my most informative communication technique. When I want someone to know what I’m thinking, what I’m really thinking, I’ll tell them to read my journals or my poems or my songs. I would journal just so no one would think anything was up. By this point, I was numb to what I was doing to the people around me, the people I loved. Looking back on it, I was just being truly and brutally selfish.
I had never felt such a tremendous amount of guilt as I did on the day that I handed The Boyfriend the dreaded letter telling him the truth about the start of our relationship and my breech of trust from the very get go. And when he finished reading it, he sat silently, and I felt like I was going to puke up my heart. He didn’t look at me, and then he asked “Why?” and I could honestly give him no answer. I searched the deepest recesses of my brain to try to figure it out. Why had I stopped journaling? I became such an immoral idiot when I had no venue to express my thoughts, without speaking out loud.
I’m glad to say that over a year later, The Boyfriend and I are still together and have had a beautiful baby boy together. It has been the best year (and then some) of my life. I probably haven’t smiled as much in all my years on this earth, as I have since being with him. Hate to sound cheesy, but he completes me. He gets me. He’s the yin to my yang, the vertical dissection of my horizontal plane. Through our entire relationship, save for the day of the letter and the sadness I had felt for doing something so wrong, I haven’t suffered with my depression at all. I haven’t felt a need for it. The things that used to prick me like thorns, roll off my back with a tiny shudder. I would like to say I’ve claimed sanity, for the time being.
Last night, I felt that jealous, suspicious nemesis of mine that made me feel the same way I felt the first time I realized maybe I was depressed. I’ve been on high alert for post-partum depression to kick in, since I went through it with all my other kids. I just had a baby a month ago, so all flags are raised for me.
The Boyfriend and I had been teasing each other with thoughts of sex all day. His most famous teasing technique with me seems to be talking about kinky things or giving me love spanks all throughout the day. He’ll talk about things like tying me up or taking pictures of me – sadly it doesn’t happen the way he describes it, but at least he describes it to me. After the kids are all finally in bed, and seemingly quiet, I begin teasing his cock with my tongue and lips. No actual penetrating head, just teasing. It’s one of my favourite ways to tease us both. Kid wakes up, have to deal with that, kid falls asleep, teasing is back on.
We had been talking about hooking the internet up to the PS3 so that we could watch porn off the net on the 42” widescreen. After much teasing, I suggested it to him, and as most men do, he thought it was a great idea. And so we dropped by RedTube and made a hasty search for brunettes. Of course, after having a baby a mere four weeks ago, even though my body still looks almost exactly the same, except for a few extra stretch marks and a couple of extra pounds, you still feel insecure and unsexy, or at least I do, for the most part. Watching porn = Enhanced Insecurity. RedTube produced nothing of real interest, though the search was rather hasty, and so The Boyfriend found his way to another site.
He knew his way around this particular site, and kept saying things like “They often have good stuff on here” or “This is my favourite place to come”, and my raw instinct jumped up and I wanted to say “How often have you been watching porn?” But I restrained myself, wanting to not be the jealous, suspicious monster that once raged throughout me. I bit my lip and we continued, and the sex was outrageously amazing. I amped it up a bit because I wanted him to know that he has the real deal right here, his own personal fuck-toy porn star.
All night, all I could think about is how many times exactly has he looked at porn without me. I say all the time that I don’t care about my boyfriend(s) watching porn without me or my knowledge, but I really do. I feel like if they have to look at porn, I’m not giving them something they want or desire. Either by my appearance, or in the bedroom. That sucks because my one mission sexually is to fulfill my partners desires. To grant his every sexual wish, as long as its not beyond my limits. And then I kept thinking, when the heck does he have time to watch porn without me. When he’s working, he’s at work all night and sleeps through the better part of the day and when he is awake, I’m with him. Right now, while he’s on paternity leave, the only time I’m not with him is when he lets me sleep in. So of course, that made me ponder, does he only let me sleep in so that he can watch porn? And was I really naive enough to believe that he wouldn’t watch porn when I was sleeping in?
You know how I was saying earlier that love is blind. Well, with The Boyfriend and I, I think it’s just a serious case of rose-coloured glasses. You know, the ones that taint everything with the colour of love, and makes time standstill around you. I tend to let alot of things with him slide, things that in the past, in my depressed days, would irritate the heck out of me, things that I would speak up about or bitch about or something. With him I just shrug it off and smile and appreciate that I have him. Last night, made me question how much of our relationship, my happiness, has simply been a case of these rose-coloured glasses.
With Alfie, when I found out he was watching porn without me, I flipped. I yelled, I screamed, I cried, I asked questions for days and days never believing the answers I was given. With The Boyfriend, I just shut the thoughts out, rolled over and let our raging lust continue on. Was he thinking about the porn we had just watched instead of me? Was he thinking he would rather the sweet, soft pussy of the 18 year old schoolgirl, than the self-proclaimed MILF’s used and tired pussy? In the moment of passion, I could care less. The thoughts are still with me, I’m still pondering it. I don’t want that jealousy demon to come back right now, and destroy my happiness. I don’t want to ask questions, because I don’t want to hear the answers. The truth will set you free, but it will beat down the people around you. I’m not prepared to be beat down.
Even if he answered with complete honesty and told me all these wonderful things about me, my suspicious mind wouldn’t believe anything he told me. That would lead to me snooping, which would eventually lead to the deterioration of our relationship. And really, does it matter why or when or how he watches porn? At least he still crawls into bed with me every night and wakes up to me every morning, except when he’s working graveyards. And I’m the one that gets to hear his sweet voice say “I love you”, day after day. So really, what can I bitch about.
So what’s the point of this whole post? I don’t know, maybe I’ll keep wearing these glasses. At least for awhile longer, and see what happens next. Does anyone else in the world hate it as much as I do when your partner watches porn without you or without telling you?
On a less daunting note, I was browsing the internet last night and found this great song that I think we can all appreciate:
Sometimes, when I am horny and aroused, I like to go online, type in a couple of words, and look at the images that pop up with those searchwords. Some of the pictures I found recently were so sexy I just had to share them!
This one caputed my imagination – how I would love to be dressed up and bound like that!
Her body language is completely accepting of her position as sub and slave. Sometimes I think it would be fun to be a slave for a weekend, just to see how it differs from being a sub!
Don’t know why I felt drawn to this one – but seeing it the first time, I actually gasped out loud – and my hands shook as I saved the image.
I honestly don’t know what I like about this picture the most – the double penetration, the rough way her breasts are being handled, the way her hair being pulled forces her body to arch…or the expression on her face. All I do know for certain is this – I am immensely jealous of her!
I had dreamed for so many years of being bound and ravaged – but those dreams never fully came true until I met Mad Baker. I well remember the first time he showed me an image of tit bondage and I was emphatic that I could never enjoy such a thing *smirks* I was wrong – I love it! – and this picture reminds me of Mad Baker the most.
I never thought of mud as erotic before – until I met Viktor. His descriptions of playing in the mud – being forced to be dirty – both terrified and aroused me. Of all the pictures I have, this one reminds me the most of him.
I hope you enjoyed the images I had to share with you today – may they make your pussy (or cock) twitch with excitement!
Gmäes eneir Sutide eneir elgnihcesn Uvinisterät, ist es nchit witihcg in wlecehr Rneflogheie die Bstachueben in eneim Wrot snid, das ezniige was wcthiig ist, ist dass der estre und der leztte Bstabchue an der ritihcegen Pstoiion snid. Der Rset knan ein ttoaelr Bsinöldn sien, tedstorm knan man ihn onhe Pemoblre lseen. Das ist so, wiel wir nciht jeedn Bstachuebn enzelin leesn, snderon das Wrot als gseatems. Ehct ksras! Das ghet wicklirh…
In addition to the new pictures he took by request for the community, Simon also “accidentally” gave us all access to his xxx-rated Flickr collection, which included the following choice shots. BUT be aware a few of these shots include one of those no-no names. On pictures they’re fine because they can’t be searched as text on Google. Just don’t re-type them anywhere kthnx!
My heroin you are, my hit of choice:
Your needles need no juice to get me high
Your looks inject themselves into my eye
One sniff of you and all my cells rejoice:
And you’re not cut with rubbish – pure Rolls Royce -
And I’m addicted to you: months go by
With just one thought, which is: how soon can I
See you again, suck on you, skin your voice?
You keep on pushing. Every time I need
That wee bit more to knock me off my face
Your lush plush limo keeps on adding speed
Until my spirit finds itself in space:
And still you are a drug – your rushes feed
A gap I’ll never fill, though often chase.
All I want to do is sleep…I had to make myself get out of bed today, and I’m sitting here wondering what the point of getting up was in the first place? The inside of my brain feel’s so bizarre today…I assume it’s because I’m taking a new antidepressant?
Today, my only wish is for death to come for me and take me away to a better place…Somewhere where I can feel loved, because today I feel completely numb…I can’t even shed a single tear today as a result, and this is a very dangerous sign for me, because I have no way of releasing what’s bound up inside me…I’m not suicidal, I would never take my own life…But at times, I feel like I need physical pain to cope with what’s going on inside of my damaged brain…I have no intentions of turning back into the dark realm of BDSM though…I will just have to keep learning how to undo what’s already been done, but without the desire of escaping my inner pain with feeling physical pain..I’ll never be dominate or submissive to anybody ever again nor will I ever want to be flogged again either…But, how do I fill that void now? Often I ask myself the question, “what am I supposed to do now?” Although the answer is always, that I just need to feel loved…But I feel that I’m hopeless where love is concerned also…Because I know the answer to my own question obviously…But sadly, there is NOT enough love in the world to save me from how I’m feeling at this very moment…I can’t even feel God’s love for me right now…All I feel is this endless void within me, filled with nothingness and emptiness…Meanwhile, I remain broken in spirit and cannot find some inner strength to pull myself back together again…So for today I think loving myself is out of the question as well…Hence, I hope for death…To come for me and erase me from this life…I feel like a cruel trick is being played on me, because one day I’m fine and feeling great and the next day I’m so sad that I’m praying for death…Honestly, I can’t control my thoughts anymore, they control me…I can’t control my moods anymore, and they control me too…I can barely manage to get out of bed to come sit here and express myself…And here (this one and only blog of mine) has become such a dark place lately…My positive thoughts used to heavily out weigh my negative thoughts…And now, not so much…I have my support system to help carry my burdens, but I won’t pick up the phone or reach out for anybody’s help…I can only come here to release everything, where I feel no effort (on my part) is required, and I feel safe…I don’t have to see anybody, I don’t have to talk to anybody and I don’t have to interact with anybody, period…I don’t want anybody to know that I’m this weak right now…I have become so pathetic to myself…I feel helpless and hopeless…If I’m not escaping through sleep, I’m awake and therefore I must to be listening to music to keep my demons at bay…That’s the only thing that help’s me when I’m feeling such loneliness and despair…Music! Although at this very moment, I’m sitting here in silence and I’m attempting to release myself from the internal enemy of depression…By expression…
All that I can do now is end with a prayer…
“Father God and Divine Spirit of Love please come and help me”
“The BDSM community is only a community in so far as it is a loose grouping of acts that are not seen as standard or vanilla, other than that there is almost infinite variety.” – anonymous lover
Part 3 of Slutty, slutty me!
Much of this blog is dedicated to my self-exploration of my own BDSM desires. The fact is that I don’t know definitively what it is that I want. If I did, then I could define it and set a strategy to get it and go after it. This lack of understanding of what exactly it is that I’m looking for is perhaps the best argument for me to look for a Dom/me so that I can be lead into deeper self-exploration in directions I may not have thought of going on my own.
Sexuality in general is over-defined and under-comprehended in my opinion. If we deal just with BDSM, the variety of interpretations of what Dominance is and is not are vast and varied to me. Some people are sure they have the answers, they have written books, read books, subscribed to theories that they believe in as firmly as any Baptist preacher does his Bible. Me, I recognize that I am still young enough and more importantly impressionable enough for my ideas on what I do and don’t believe to be somewhat fluid and changeable. Which doesn’t mean that I will buy into any old nonsense or that I won’t defend my own opinions or positions such as they currently are.
Still one of the most common questions I get is about what I’m into, people would like me to define myself as a sub, slut, whore… to put me under a label. I understand this as a need to know more about me, but I’m not sure what label(s) fit, so here are my understandings of the various labels and how I think I fit into them.
While there are many more terms here are the few I have chosen:
Bondage & Discipline
Domination & Submission
Sado-Masochism
Slut
Submissive vs. Slave (which I have already addressed here)
Whore
Fetishist
Kinkster
What you will find here is what I am coming to realize is a cross section of the snippets I take from each categorization to form what my ‘brand’ of ideal BDSM is, which may not be BDSM by some people’s definitions but I can find no better word or label. It is too vanilla for some, and too kinky for others.
BONDAGE & DISCIPLINE
I’m actually not quite sure why these two are paired. I suppose to some that shows my naivety. I see them as two separate acts that can go together but don’t necessarily.
I believe bondage can be done in total absence of discipline. To be bound, trapped, immobilized and vulnerable to another human being is in my mind one of the most intense experiences I am seeking. I would be very interested in a Dom/me who wants to explore my growth in this area. I also find the bondage pictures some of the most beautiful in BDSM.
Discipline on the other hand I believe exists with or without bondage. I am not a big fan of what I will call corporal discipline or inflicting pain as a form of punishment. Although I do enjoy light pain to heighten sensitivity and tactile pleasure during sex. Even less attractive to me is sexual abstinence discipline. Safe to say I have none, and I have no desire to develop it.
Where I do like elements of discipline are in the task & obedience realm. I am however quite specific about this. I like it in the terms of role play, in the bedroom play, and general foreplay to create a mood. Some of the behaviour discipline that involves long term commitment to seemingly random rules I have no interest in. I’m not about to alter my sex life with my partner, start doing things at work I don’t already do or commit to a daily regiment for your enjoyment. This is after all still my life. I don’t believe these types of regiments are discipline so much being disciplined which I believe is a deeper form of submission or slavery than I am interested in experiencing.
DOMINATION & SUBMISSION
I believe this D/s relationship exists on the premise of surrendering one’s choice, will, and agency to another. It can be done in different degrees of physical, mental and emotional experience.
I believe I am a dominant personality who wants to experience what it feels like to submit. That being said, I’m choosy about who I think is worth submitting to, which is dominant in itself. This means that a Dom/me who is interested in me needs to be self-secure enough to have his or her Domination judged next to others and will be confident enough that if he or she is to Dominate me that I will be their natural choice and that should I not choose them it will not diminish their own self worth or image.
I do eventually want to dominate other people. Most of my fantasies around being dominant involve setting tasks and instructing others in humiliation of third parties. The fact that my domination fantasies are somewhat limited is one of the reasons I want to expand my scope as a sub to understand how a domination experience grows from ‘do the dishes’ to ‘cum in her mouth when I say’.
On the submissive side I’m interested in things that evoke a power exchange. I want the power exchange to be overt. Either by physical force or bait manipulation. There are lots of interests to bait me with, new scenes, costumes, locations, sensations, toys… What I am not interested in is convincing a Dom/me of what a “good sub” I can be by simply laying down at my masters feet and trying to please him.
In fact, I’m quite a bad sub. I have little interest in pleasing my ‘master’ unless I’m going to get something out if it. Yes, I’m a selfish little slut at the core. I have two dogs, one is a Sheppard and is always by my side and genuinely looks worried anytime he does something bad. The other is a Beagle who will do anything in the world to get food, and only looks sorry he was caught in the act of doing something bad rather than the behaviour. I’m much more like the Beagle.
Trying to bait me by asking me to tell you why I would make a ‘good sub’ and why you should choose me will simply get you the answer that you should not choose me if you are looking for a good sub. I’m looking for someone who enjoys making someone submissive, not someone who enjoys someone who is actually submissive. You’ll be terribly disappointed in me in such a case.
SADO-MASOCHISM
The enjoyment of hurting someone or being hurt. Safe to say I don’t really fall into this category except in the shallowest end. I will tolerate being spanked, slapped and pinched because I think it makes my body more sensitive and that is more enjoyable during sex. I get no pleasure from pain.
I do like to be handled ‘roughly’ which I interpret to mean I prefer to be grabbed and ridden hard rather than sweetly caressed, soothed and gently made love to.
SLUT
There is a lot of discussion on fetlife on what is and is not a slut. Many women defend the position that a person can be a monogamous slut. While I won’t judge publicly on the boards I don’t share this opinion.
In my opinion a slut is not only a woman (or man) who enjoys sex, and lots of sex, but also enjoys that sex – that lots of sex – with many different partners. Sluts, while they may have some standards generally have less barriers to entry (pun intended) than other ‘non-sluts’. While I do have some physical hang ups I generally will fuck a 180 lb person as soon as a 250 lb person. I enjoy many different shapes, sizes and sexes. I am not reserved about taking off my clothes in front of a stranger or about having sex with a stranger.
My filters are generally around safety concerns. That ever so hard to quantify ‘good-feeling’ vs. ‘bad-feeling’. Or age – I’m not big on younger men. Or physical compatibility – I want a man who I know can physically match me, which I don’t think a 120 lb (or even 140 lb) man could do.
Aside from that I have preferences but I’m generally game to fuck whomever if I have the time and energy given the demands of my vanilla life.
SUBMISSIVE VS. SLAVE
See this post
WHORE
I see a whore as different than a slave, although I do know it is common for slaves to be whored out, part of the ‘total submission experience’.
Whoring is a fantasy of mine. It’s not yet very evolved in my mind, if I want someone to whore me out, who gets the money, is it for money or other valuations, do I whore out myself as an independent, do I go as far as trying to get a review on one of the escort sites, are there still brothels that would take a guest whore?
The major issue of course with whoring is safety…. But then, how much safer am I doing what I do now? I think the difference largely is expectations. Without money or an exchange of some value involved the other person is an equal and will chalk it up to ‘not working out’. As soon as the offer of whoring is issued then there is an expectation of desire met.
FETISHIST
Some of the lifestylers I’ve met would classify me as a fetishist rather than a BDSM person. They use this because (from what I can gather) they see fetishists as people who are otherwise vanilla except for a fetish kink. Or as one person put it fetishists do stuff that vanilla people think is kinky.
Although I do enjoy a wide array of fetishes, I don’t think I am a fetishist for one simple reason. That is, most fetishists I’ve met are very fixated on their personal fetish, an encounter would be incomplete for them if it did not include their fetish. And, some are simply satisfied to do their fetish without any other interaction.
If I do have a fetish it is simply fucking. I love to be fucked. That’s it.
Of the fetishes I’ve encountered here are some I enjoy: roleplay, heels, stockings, lingerie, corsets, being bathed, spanking, body painting, being watched, watching, threesomes, group play, anonymous sex, oral sex (giving), costumes, forced nudity (to a degree), bondage…
I’m sure there are more, if you are curious ask.
Here are some that I am definitely NOT into: children, animals, blood, welts, bruising, needles, medical play, cutting, piercing, scat, pee (watersports), slavery…
KINKSTER
I find myself gravitating to this label as I go through this search. I am not a ‘true submissive’, I am admittedly dabbling, I enjoy acts of fetishism more than acts of sado-masochism, but I like my acts of fetishism to be spattered with some power-shifting Domination and Submission, I have no particular fetish but I’m open to trying many and I have some fantasies that fall clearly in the BDSM categories like bondage, spanking and whoring (not to mention rape). In short I’m a slut to variety.
I think the draw-back of Kinkster seems to be an association with very mild vanilla + behaviour. The type of person who would wear the stockings and heels but the collar may be too much.
I could be off base on that assumption? What are your thoughts? What kind of sub am I?
What a grand weekend it’s been for Unique Goddess! She spent Her Saturday with a beautiful lacsivious slut grrl. The Goddess has special plans for this grrl, as she’s more than proven worthy of Her attention. Ah, but W/we must keep quiet on that, as The Goddess does not want to let the cat out of the bag! No, W/we’ll keep that kitty bound until it’s playtime at this upcoming DXS Rapture; mmmm mmmmmm good!
Setting up in a new space can be quite fun. It seems to bring out the creative genius in The Goddess and She has so many great plans in the works. On Sunday, She started planning, organizing, and setting up Her great dressing area. As She played with all of the various colorful costuming gear, She visualized Her sissy prancing around in them. Haha! This week that visual will become reality! In this same dressing area, The Goddess will have Her beautiful antique sewing machine setup. I’m mean, why not? It’s the perfect spot, as She will definitely design and sew new clothes in which to dress not only Herself, but also Her sissies. The Goddess looks forward to creating many new memories in Her new domain!
It’s also fun to pull out memories of old, as a picture sits upon the refrigerator of The Goddess’ younger brother and daughters, when She dressed them up as the Spice Girls for Samhain back in ’98! Haahaa! Laying Her eyes on books She’s not seen since January, She revels in various poetry and many great historical classics. Listening to Gil Scott Heron, as She perused Poe, She came across a work that particularly struck home with Her, Poe’s “The Power of Words”. The whole piece is great, but one phrase stands out to Her the most:
“Ah, not in knowledge is happiness, but in the acquisition of knowledge! In for ever knowing, we are for ever blessed; but to know all were the curse of a fiend.”
How befitting to The Goddess’ strong innate curiosity and thirst for knowledge! Books and more books everywhere; wow, those are some very heavy boxes full of heavy knowledge, from Abstract Art to Zen Therapy. Her silly slut, kelly, had “Naughty Needles” and “Domiknitrix” sent to Her house and She can’t wait to get started learning to knit and eventually creating Her own designs. Those who get close enough to Her, quickly realize Unique Goddess is an open freak and closet geek. She can easily get lost in books for both entertainment and learning and is always exploring and experimenting with something new.
In the near future, The Goddess plans to build Her own glass labware distillation setup. This goes along with Her practice of natural health, as She has grown quite fond of Rosemary and many other various herbs and would like to take it all a step further in creating Her own essential oils. The more She learns, the more She wants to learn, whether it’s naturopathy or BDSM, She loves to dive into the flame feet first and imbue Herself with information. It feeds that inner dancing flame, making it grow ever-stronger and ever-powerful and keeps Her mind active. The Goddess loathes laziness, physical or otherwise. Those who want to appeal to A Goddess like Unique must have more going on than a pretty face. A pretty face and hot body may initiate attraction, but The Goddess seeks those with high intellect, drive and ambition. Leave the slothfulness for the tunnel-vision sheeps of O/our society, as they are of no use for Unique. Those who think outside of the box are the ones She truly seeks to pull into Her web! Free thinkers unite!
It’s a gorgeous day out today, so The Goddess went out for playtime with the pup in Her big backyard! YAY! Enjoy your day and remember, don’t be lazy, make haste, not waste!!!!
Una Miss che io conosco ha ripreso il suo schiavo storico. Nonostante ora lei abbia una sua vita, e non poco “pesante”.
Mi sorprende un pò. Ma non mi dispiace. Perchè conosco il “lui” della situazione e so che è una persona che ha davvero bisogno di questa cosa… di questa persona al proprio fianco.
Credo sia giusto. Viste le cose accadute negli ultimi sei mesi, l’insofferenza di lui per qualsiasi contatto femminile che non fosse lei. Visto che nessuna era in grado di scalfire i sentimenti di quest’uomo, beh questo riavvicinamento per quanto sconcertante, spero che gli metta pace nel cuore. Lei probabilmente la pace ce l’ha già.
Mentre una delle mie due amiche, la persona che penso di stimare di più in Bacaro, ho ancora la sensazione che non abbia chiuso il ciclo dopo un anno.
Ma quanto tempo ci vuole? E’ direttamente proporzionale all’età?
Me lo chiedo per ovvie ragioni.
Anche perchè per me è un mistero oscuro.
Ieri sera sul libro ho letto una cosa che mi ha davvero colpito. Sull’autolesionismo.
La narratrice parlando con la sua intervistatrice dice che ad un certo punto, sentendosi sporca, “con le croste addosso” ha iniziato a tagliuzzarsi. Per togliersi le già citate croste di dosso.
Che l’autolesionismo sia una forma di espiazione è evidente. C’è da capire a che livello. E per quali ragioni.
L’asse autolesionismo/BDSM è quasi istantaneo. Ho conosciuto ben 5 persone che si sono avvicinate al BDSM per espiare qualcosa. Come forma psicoterapeutica.
Nell’autolesionismo sei tu che applichi su te stessa un rituale. Nel BDSM demandi questa responsabilità. In sostanza per queste persone, viene a galla un nuovo modo di ripulirsi.
Io credo che ogn’uno di noi possieda un bonus espansione. Che può spendere in maniera totalmente soggettiva. Ad un certo punto i condizionamenti e mentali, e sessuali, e sociali, diventano una gabbia.
E’ ovvio che si cerchi allora di modificare, di espandersi appunto. Una necessità che non tocca a tutti. Ma che in genere è “funzionale” rispetto all’offerta.
Ora la sessualità è più evidente, i prodotti si vedono in giro.
C’è chi spenderà il proprio bonus espansione con quella che penserà essere la propria trasgressione: privé, scambismo, gang bang, ma anche la semplice amante, o andare a prostitute.
Una parte decide che il proprio bonus espansione è quello della sessualità estrema. O comunque nell’esplorazione del dolore.
In questo mare (ma forse è meglio dire pozzanghera vista la quantità) di persone che quantomeno provano a variare del tutto “fantasia” piuttosto che pervesione, ci sono anche persone che hanno un qualcosa di più “disturbato” di altri.
Gli espiatori appunto. O chi ha bisogno di un pulpito. O chi ha notevoli insicurezze.
La persona che mi sconvolse di più fu uno slave toscano che aveva una certa fervenza religiosa. Pensava che il BDSM fosse peccato -> si faceva picchiare per espiare il peccato -> ma commetteva peccato facendosi picchiare e così via in una spirale senza uscita.
Finchè è diventato schiavo personale di una famosa Prodomme.
La domanda più logica è: ma non è il caso ad un certo livello, di vedere un buon psicanalista piuttosto che una Mistress.
Le Mistress a volte vedendo questi disturbi, invece di farsi prendere da manie di onnipotenza perchè non invitano i suddetti a vedere qualcuno che possa quantomeno spezzare questo circolo vizioso?
Le proprie perversioni sono già un peso a volte da portare. Non in questo mondo, quello virtuale, sottile, ma nell’altro… quello quotidiano, che ci manca anche un senso di colpa generato da percorsi interiori malati.
Sto parlando di una minoranza, sia chiaro.
Sto parlando di una situazione di disturbo reale. Anche se immagino che chi non pratica BDSM potrebbe davvero pensare che siamo tutti così.
Non so.
Sicuramente comprendo che anche io a modo mio possiedo un disturbo. Il mio bonus espansione l’ho speso entrando molti anni fa in questo mondo, permettendogli di formare alcuni tratti della mia sessualità.
Quando avevo Dade, ho combattuto contro molti fantasmi molto dolorosi. Oddio fantasmi che coraggio.
La gelosia per esempio. Dade mi ha spinta più volte verso ad una sorta di gelosia poco salubre, insana.
E lavorarci su, è stato male. Perchè nel tempo mi sono ritrovata dalla parte opposta. Con l’etichetta di indifferente. Di una persona a cui non interessa nulla dell’amore o di altro.
Il BDSM mi ha invece caricato di un sentimento che prima non provavo. Il possesso. Ed è un’altra gatta da pelare. Perchè è un sentimento altrettanto forte della gelosia. So che le dinamiche sono le stesse. Epurarsi da sentimenti perversi (nel senso di non buoni) è un processo lento ma che da buoni frutti.
Ieri (domenica) chiacchiaravo con una mia amica a proposito di una persona di Bacaro che sta vivendo una “meravigliosa storia vanilla”.
E la mia domanda è stata quasi tirata con una corda: ma se è così meravigliosa, perchè lui sta ore sui siti BDSM?
La risposta è stata: perchè a certe cose non si riesce a stare lontani.
Mi chiedo se è davvero così. Io dovrei stare zitta. Vivo una situazione privilegiata. Ma è davvero così irresistibile il mondo BDSM, la sessualità BDSM?
Ho sempre pensato che fosse parte del tutto, ma non la dominante.
Se la persona che AMO (amore, non infatuazioni o altro) mi da tutto, il BDSM certo mi mancherà, ma non sarà una grave rinuncia. Almeno finchè, o smette quell’amore, o accade qualcosa che offusca quel sentimento.
Ma in un rapporto neonato? Dove ti mangeresti, ti ingurgiteresti ogni giorno, perchè alla fine torni sulla scena del delitto?
Se hai davvero quello che vuoi, puoi rinunciare ad una fetta della tua sessualità?
Sono domande che mi pongo spesso. A volte penso di possedere la risposta. Il più delle volte penso che se la risposta c’è e la conosco, è sicuramente quella sbagliata.
Io non devo portare me stessa come esempio. Vivo una situazione praticamente perfetta. Un microcosmo che si regge in un sistema eliocentrico dove io, sono il punto focale.
Ma nelle storie normali? Dove c’è un lui, una lei, ed una fantasia in quel “noi” non può essere vissuta…
Finchè colui o colei che ha questa necessità che preme più forte, non scappa dal “noi” per cercare dapprima assaggiando ed in modo fugace, poi con maggiore frequenza un completamento.
Verrebbe da pensare che è troppo comodo. Si forse lo è.
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Meat hung there in the table for her an unknown amount of time. She was at a fever pitch, her need was strong but unfulfilled. No matter what she tried Meat couldn’t make herself cum. Even after being used by all those men, it was like it was intentional that she not be allowed to cum. Meat thought that the man was responsible for this. She needed and would demand that she be allowed to cum the minute she was out of here. She hung there, aching for a release and apparently wasn’t coming any time soon.
The man stood there for some minutes watching before retrieving the flogger he had been using. Along with that he retrieves two pins that go into the side of the table. He walks around and removes to similar pins from the ends. The man releases the locking pins and now the table pivots on the long sides not the ends. Meat felt as if she was spinning again but this time at her waist and not long wise. A slave places a lock on the table to lock Meat upright and then another on the other side. Meat feels the clamps pulling at her nipples not hard but annoying. Meat suddenly feels the sting of the flogger against her ass again. Several more strikes hit her ass harder each time. The man walks around to the front of Meat and starts to flog her tits. He can see her reaction as the first one comes down on a tit, Meat inhales quickly as the lash hits. Meat thinks ” What this isn’t over yet how long am I going to be tied up like this?”
The man continues to lash out on her tits, that caused the clamps and weights to sway from side to side. They pull and tug lightly at first but the lashes are coming faster and harder the clamps and weights sway, twisting the nipples. The man continued listening to the groans of Meat, they were getting louder. One hit sent both weights swinging around a full circle and it sounded like a yell was muffled by the gag that was in place. Meats tits were starting to turn red from the beating. The man stopped the lashing, for a few moments as her breathing returned to normal then started right back up again. This time the man got them swinging in only a few strikes, he could Meat screaming from the pain. He kept it up for some minutes knowing it would eventually dull out. He stopped and had two slaves reach up and at the same time remove the clamps on Meat’s nipples, when they did she screamed. Meat was then lowered down again.
Meat is untied and lowered down to the floor, she feels something tied to her nipples and then she is roughly pulled up by the hair and led away from there. She could feel her self being tied upright this time and then a pull on her nipples. Meat stood on her tip toes in order to try and relieve the pull but to no avail. Suddenly the plug was pulled out of her mouth and the hood removed. She saw what she was tied into. She also saw why she couldn’t get the pressure of her nipples, there were strings attached to them up through pulleys and weights on the ends. Her arms were tied straight out and her ankles tied to the same posts. She watched as another slave stepped into “table” and laid down and was promptly tied into it. It looks like she knows what is going to happen to her and willingly accepts the fact. She is not blindfolded or gagged as she was. She watches as the clamps are attached to her nipples. She is then flipped over and she sees a line of male slaves walk in and get in line. Four other slaves are kneeling there taking the cocks into their mouths making them hard. The first of the slaves a goes in behind the slave that is tied to into the table. He roughly enters her hard and pumps very hard until he cums a bowl is beneath her. The next male slave steps and fucks her and cums in her also. After about the fifth guy fucks and cums in her the cum starts to drip into the bowl. Meat tries to look away but is met with a lash across her ass and the word “Watch”. She looks as this line of guys use her, they walk up behind her fuck her and then leave. The slave is getting to the same treatment that she already had. After several men cum starts to drip out of her into the bowl below her. The flogger comes down on her ass every so often to remind her what she should be doing. She could hear the slave getting to the point where she wanted to cum but knew she wasn’t going to be allowed to. Finally the last man walked up and fucked her then walked off. The slave was spun over and the bowl picked up. The slave willingly opened her mouth for a funnel to be put into it and then the cum that had dripped into bowl was poured into the funnel as she swallowed. Meat then realized that is what happened to her, she didn’t know how many but that she had swallowed cum that had been in her pussy. Meat thought for a moment and she felt her stomach turnover but kept it down.
The slave was released from the table and walked up to the man and knelt down, “Did I please you sir?”
“Yes you did very well and now lay back and make yourself cum so Meat can watch.”
The slave laid back on the floor and the flogger hit Meat on the ass again, she knew she would watch as the slave in front of her got herself off. The slave spread her legs then stuck her fingers in her and pulled them out cum covered and slowly licked them clean. Her hand went back down to her pussy and she started rubbing it slowly at first. She glanced up at the slaves eyes for a moment and saw that the slave was watching her. Meat had found herself watching intently as the slave played with her pussy. Meat watched as the cum was still dripping out of it the clit that could be seen when she spread her pussy lips. Then for the first time she saw the beginnings spasms of an orgasm of a woman. Meat had felt it a few times but had never seen it. She watched as the slave orgasmed hard, she her the deep throaty sounds of stifled screams. It went on for much longer than Meat had ever had one and when it was over the slave shoved in as many fingers as she could and pulled them out an licked them of f smiling slyly as she did.
Meat could not believe what she just saw, that slave took her cum drenched hand, hers and many mens cum, and licked it her hand clean like it was candy. The slave got up and hurried off. The man stepped in front of her and looked.
You think you could do what she just did? You will some day when your training is nearly complete. You actually ask for as many as both of you had and then show yourself and have them watch you cum. You will shove your fingers inside of you and lick them clean. Before your training is done you will do all of this and much more. With that the man ran a finger up the inside of her leg where cum had been running down pulled her mouth open and shoved his finger inside and cleaned it off with her tongue.
The man signaled for two slave over and he released her, the slaves lead her to the cage she was staying. They pushed her in and the man closed and locked the door. Meat fell to the bed and started to cry, she realized that she was not going to get out easily. The lights were dimmed and she lay there crying for a bit then she fell asleep.
Meats dream that night was a horror to her. She was collared and owned by someone, she was sent to service a visitor almost refused but knew what punishment that would bring, she went. She did as she as she was told. She woke with a start, the lights were full on and the man was standing there. He unlocked the door and two slaves escorted her out to a stall. There she was hosed down in lukewarm water and told to clean up. She cleaned up like she normally did only quicker. Meat thought she was done when the slave that was taken after her came up turned her around and bent her over then spread her pussy lips, she could feel the water go into her.
The first phase of your training Meat will be how to service someone with your mouth. This will include deep throating, swallowing, taking a facial and eating pussy. You will also learn how to tease the cock to make it hard with your tongue. Meat thought I have taken a cock in my mouth but not for those purposes and I won’t now. Meat then realized previous day exercise was to acquaint her with cum going down her throat, she had detested it when she realized what it was. She decided she would fight it. She saw several men enter the room, slaves by the collars they had on, all standing there waiting. One other slave a woman walked in and up to her.
Yes I know it isn’t easy at first and you probably don’t want to do it but remember for are consequences for disobedience. You can take the easy road learn now or the hard road and refuse. Just remember one thing as a slave you are there to please who ever you are told to.
Meat thought for a moment as the first man was signaled forward. She decided that it would be the hard road. She set her jaw and refused to open her mouth. Suddenly a smack came down on her ass then another. She still refused. Her hair was grabbed and she was pulled over to a area and tied arms up and legs spread. She was quickly tied to it before she knew what was happening. The man started to flog her not too hard at first but she refused to open her mouth. Each stroke getting harder and her still refusing. Suddenly the feeling changed on one swing, it went from leather to hard wood with a loud smack. This almost caused her to cry out but she held her tongue.
The man walked up to her “So going to play the tough one now.” With that he grabbed one of her tits and tied a rope around it tightly then the other one. Meat realized it hurt but would not give him the satisfaction. A candle was brought forward lit and he slowly started dropping wax on the tied tits. As each hit she muffled a cry out but refused t0 open her mouth. After several minutes of her tits being waxed the man walked over to a table and picked something up, silver and bright. Meat couldn’t see what it was but a few seconds later she felt it on the bottom side of one her tits. Something with sharp points rolling from back to front by her nipple then back again on a different track. Meat felt like screaming but knew if she opened her mouth it would remain opened. Then she felt it under the other tit, she wanted to just scream but she thought she knew better and didn’t.
After several passes under each tit there were tears running down her face but her mouth was still closed. She then felt that sharp point on the inside of her one thigh as it rolled up to her pussy then back down. A few more and then the same treatment on the other thigh. Meat was trying to struggle but couldn’t. She suddenly felt fingers on her pussy then the one of the lips being pulled down. Meat thought for second what is he going to do? The she felt the pain as the sharp point was pressed into the lip and run back and forth. She cried out loudly, tears running down her face. She started sobbing taking as much as she did. A gag of sorts was brought over and placed in her mouth. It looked liked something a dentist would use as it held her mouth open widely.
She was lowered to her knees, her tits still tied and hurting. She thought she would get sympathy but none came. The woman slave walked up and knelt down as the male slave walked over. “I told you it would not be good and it is not over yet, now watch and listen as I explain this.” The slave started to explain how she sucked cock but added each woman is a bit different on how they do it. The male slave walked up and without her hands to move anything the slave started licking his balls, around them. Meat could see him starting to get hard but her tongue hadn’t even touched his cock yet. As the cock started to stand straight out the slave ran the tongue along the under side of it. This caused almost an immediate reaction of the cock stiffing to it full length. The slave went up and down the cock a few more times on various sides.
The slave looked at her “Are you seeing what I am doing and understanding?” Meat shook her head. The slave said the “I won’t be able to talk but here is what I am going to do, I am first going to take the head of the cock in my mouth an swirl my tongue around it, the slowly start to take more of the cock into my mouth and only my mouth, then I will start a fucking motion with it slowly pausing when just the head is in and let my t0ngue run over it.” The slave started at what she said, Meat could see her tongue moving in her mouth over the head of the cock. The watch intently as she moved down the cock taking it in her mouth and then back up. She saw now that the cock was shining like a shiny rod, she saw the pause and then the descent of her head again.
Suddenly after several minutes the man said “Face fuck her.:” The female slave released the cock from her mouth and moved to the slave behind him and started on him. The male slave stepped up to her and grabbed her hair and shoved his cock in her gagged open mouth and started fucking it like it was a piece of ass. She could feel the balls slapping against her chin. After a few minutes she felt the swell of the head and cock then the spasm and gush of cum into mouth and throat. She swallowed what she could to stop the gagging and the rest ran out of her mouth down on the her tits. She actually didn’t have much choice on the swallowing as it was so far back in her mouth that she had no choice.
That slave move off and then the next one stepped up he just put roughly put his hand behind her head and starting fucking her mouth. She was crying as he did it tears dripping onto the now cum covered tits. He only took a few minutes and the she felt his balls move up then the sudden explosion of his cock spewing cum deep into her mouth as he held is cock farther in than the last one. She swallowed more cum and less went out her mouth onto her tits. He releases her head and walks off. A third one walks up and takes to hand fulls of hair and holds her head steady as he rubs his cock over her tongue and around her mouth before he starts to fuck her face.
The slave starts a slow motion in and out, burying it as deep as he can. As he does this he starts to pick up speed. Though he always buries it all the way to her throat. After a what felt like an eternity to her she could feel him about to cum. When he does cum he buries his manhood deep into her mouth and cums into her throat for the most part and very little in her mouth. After him the man walks up and says “Are you ready for your training now?” Meat knew that if she said no then it would continue. If she said yes then she would have to learn and now to do it. All she could do was cry. Another slave stepped up, his cock hard, she lifted her head to accept it into her mouth. Tears running down her face as he started to slam his cock into her mouth, she started to return the movements. Soon he was erupting cum into her mouth and down her throat.
The man walked up and removed the gag from her, the female slave walked over with a male slave, she knelt down next to her. Now remember what you were shown, lick the balls first, up and around, make sure the cock is getting stiff. When the cock is hard enough to stick out on it own then lick the bottom slowly from the balls to the tip. Meat listened and followed directions precisely. She took the cock into her mouth and felt it grow even more over the next several minutes as she sucked and licked it. After several minutes of this she felt as if it was going to explode in her mouth and it did. She kept the tip in as it did and twirled her tongue around it, then she started to swallow the cum in her mouth but not releasing the cock until she was completely finished. The woman slave said good job, now there are a few more to practice on then I have to show you another technique.
The male slave in front of her moved off and another one took his place. She remembered what she did last time and successfully swallowed that load of cum after what felt like an eternity to her but was only 25 to 30 min. After a couple more of the male slaves cumming in her mouth the attention was shifted to facials. Her hands were released.
Meat was beginning to realize that she was not going to get out of this easily and the punishments and humiliation she was going to have to endure until she did were just part of it.
The female slave was instructing her saying that it was much like a blow job but when he man reached a certain “No Return point” stroking them with a hand would make them cum. She was to take the cum on her face. She was told she could direct it a bit but for the most part men wanted t see it directly on the face, anywhere between the forehead and the chin, more in the middle. She also made a personal comment she liked watching as the cum came out of the cock because it told her that she did her job the right way.
A male slave stepped up, he was already semi hard, Meat took him into her mouth licking and sucking him to hardness. She continued for a bit then felt the indication that he was going to cum and released the cock. At the time she released the cock from her mouth someone grabbed her head from behind and held it so she couldn’t turn at the last second. The female slave stroked the cock up and down and with in a few seconds she saw the cum head for her face. Yes, Meat tried to dodge it but the hands held firm and the cum hit her forehead then her nose and finally at her mouth.
All Meat wanted to do was cry at that point, she felt so downgraded nothing more than a play thing.
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Library employees fired over censorship of graphic novel McClatchy Washington Bureau
Washington, DC
As to the charge about Cook’s concern that the library was in violation of the state obscenity laws? Deborah Caldwell-Stone, acting director of the ALA’s …
After years of going to kinky workshops and events, I’m starting to feel vaguely dissatisfied by most of the offerings today. A lot of them are 101s or cover topics I’ve already learned about or am not into. The most interesting part for me is often the discussion amongst participants, not the topic.
What can I do to continue to learn and grow?
(I think it may be out of chronological order, but I’ll answer the other one soon too!)
I find that a lot of people end up in this sort of headspace after a number of years in the leather/kink/BDSM community. It makes sense: as we get to know ourselves better as kinksters, for all that there’s still room for growth and diversification, many of us find ourselves “specializing,” or developing particular areas of interest that we’d really like to pursue in greater depth, more like following a personal path than enjoying a general experience of learning whatever we don’t know yet about kink. As a result, because event organizers and seminar leaders aren’t inside our heads and tailoring their offerings to us, we may find ourselves disenchanted with the standard line-up of educational opportunities in kink settings.
I can offer a few ideas about what to do here, but of course, your mileage may vary based on what “learning and growing” really means to you.
First, design an interview questionnaire for someone who’s facing this situation. Ask all sorts of open-ended questions. You might start with things like, How do you best learn new things – what’s your learning style? What topics are you interested in exploring? If you could design your very own kinky curriculum, what would be on it? What sort of growth would you like to experience? And what sort of people inspire you to do that growth? Where do you want to be challenged? What still scares you about or within kink? What sort of kinky person would you like to be in five years, or ten years? How do these desires and hopes tie into your other desires and hopes (in terms of relationships, career, health, etc.)? … and so forth. Then, answer all those questions yourself as the interview subject. See what comes up. See if you can list off two to five goals or desires.
From there, brainstorm all the ways those goals or desires might be attained – and don’t let “reality” limit you. For example, just because there’s no existing “kink 301″ university where you can do graduate-level classes in all the topics of your choosing doesn’t mean you shouldn’t write that down. And just because you don’t have a leather family right now doesn’t mean you couldn’t end up in one if you put the right vibes out into the Universe and created one for yourself. Just lay it all out. Entertain your wildest dreams.
Then, once the brainstorm part is totally finished, take each of those possibilities and evaluate how realistic it is. Each time you come across something you could do easily, that’s within reach for you – as in, you have the appropriate resources, time, energy and availability – highlight it in one colour. You can go back to that later and come up with plans to make ‘em happen. Each time you come to the conclusion that something is not realistic, put it aside, but don’t toss it.
For each item that’s not realistic, do a second brainstorm to generate ideas about how you might meet that same desire using means that are within your reach. No kinky grad school? Fair enough. But what programs are out there, somewhere else, that you could potentially use for inspiration? For example, the Journeymen program out in San Francisco is an 18-month commitment to one weekend a month of intensive work with a specially selected group of kinksters. Sure, you might not be able to commit to a full weekend in another country once a month for a year and a half, but you might be able to gather a group of people together to do intensive work around a specific topic for a full weekend once every two months close to home, in a less formal setting. Or hell, you might find yourself moving to San Francisco for a time! Granted, some possibilities might be more attainable than others, but there’s no reason not to think about them.
I’d encourage you to think outside the box. If you want a mentor and can’t find one, what ways could you go about looking for one that you haven’t tried yet? Perhaps a personal ad, a discussion group post, or an intensive inquiry among your kinky connections might work; perhaps you could ask for temporary or trial mentorships of a month each with three or four older leatherfolks who might have something to offer. If you want to do advanced readings in a given area and you don’t know where to start, perhaps you could make a list of who you could ask or what discussion boards you could post to for suggestions. If you’d like specialized training in a certain area, perhaps specialists do exist and you could make time to spend with one when you next take a vacation. If you want to do intensive spiritual work, you might be able to find a spiritual community to do that outside a kink-specific setting, but bring other leatherfolk with you and meet up after each community gathering to discuss how that work relates to kink. If you want to read and reflect about power exchange but you can’t find sufficiently advanced kink books to start with, perhaps you could look outside the relatively small field of leather publication and ask people for their recommendations to build a reading list sourced from more general fields of spirituality, self-help, psychology, history, world politics, philosophy and so forth. If you want to learn more on a given topic, you might consider starting to teach – it’s amazing how much teaching teaches the teacher, not to mention you are guaranteed to find a group of people who are interested in the same topic and might know of further resources that you don’t.
Similarly, I’d encourage you to think about the possibilities of creating the resources you don’t yet have. If you want the satisfaction of regular discussion with like-minded kinksters, you might found a discussion group like the D/s Salons in Vancouver, a regular informal dinner hosted by a local leatherdyke with a selected topic for each meeting. If there is no book about the topic you want to learn more about, perhaps you could put out a call for submissions and edit one! Same goes for lots of things – researching film databases and creating a list of films to see and then blogging about them so others can find out about them, making art when you can’t find images to your liking, starting an online discussion group, and so forth.
I’m certainly not accusing you or anyone else of being lazy, but I do find it unfortunate that some kinksters seem to think that all the knowledge we might want to acquire is out there and ready for the taking, if we can just find it. I would argue that the kink world is still very young and very marginalized, and we simply don’t have a rich enough literary canon or a sufficient number of solidly established institutions to provide all that knowledge. Not to mention that even if we did, kink is so much about individuality and personal pathways that I’m not sure we’ll ever have canons and institutions that will truly meet all our needs; so much of what we learn comes from relationship and life experience rather than any sort of activity that’s deliberately geared toward learning. Deeper knowledge and growth in leather really does need to be pursued one tiny little morsel at a time, from any number of sources, some of them very unlikely. Kink is the very epitome of independent learning, and if we can conceive of it as such, while the challenges are considerable, so are the opportunities to make amazing things happen.
1.) You are lying there, feeling fat from your recent surgery, no makeup, hair plastered to your head, trying not to sweat to death in the mugginess when out of nowhere he starts looking at you. You ask “What?” and he says “Nothing, I was just picturing you lying naked on a bed of rose petals.”
2.) He drops you off at work and you point out your “stalker” (the guy who comes in and hangs out for hours while you are trying to get your work done and who came into work everyday while you were out sick trying to find out if you were coming back anytime soon.) on the sly. When your man kisses you goodbye the “stalker” goes out and sits in his car but doesn’t leave. Your man’s hackles go up and he jots down the guys license plate number before he leaves. He then calls you from home an hour or so later and when you tell him the guy is still sitting in his car out front, tells you to tell one of the police officers when they come in. Then at 3am calls again to find out if you are still okay.
3.) He brags to near strangers that you could out-fry the Colonel when it comes to chicken, that your chocolate chip cookies are to die for and that nobody does fish fry better than you… hands down.
4.) You forget to put your new partials in before you run to the store and when you mention it halfway there says “Never mind, you look gorgeous anyway.”
5.) You mention the tortilla chips your are nibbling in bed while watching a movie would taste better with some chili and melted cheese. He hops up throws on his shoes and runs to the store for chili and mozzarella cheese.
6.) It’s 2 am and all you can think about is how nice a 7up would taste. Theres a blizzard going on but he crawls out of bed and drives 3 miles to the nearest open store and buys you the biggest 7up he can get.
7.) The taco bell close to your house is closed and you dont want burgers so he drives across town so you can have a taco salad at 10pm.
8.) You saw a guy using fish bells and mention that that would be fun to do to a couple of the poles. He shows up with fish bells for the next fishing trip.
9.) You usually get mosquito bit all over your butt (literally) everytime you go fishing. So the next time you go out fishing he brings bug dope and practically soaks your butt in it. Or he brings a thick blanket to cover your lawn chair so they wont bite you.
Tonight, during his workshop at Venus Envy Ottawa entitled “FTM Sexuality,” Patrick Califia said something that gave me a new insight:
“Masculinity is constructed as this thing you can never have. It’s all about striving, competition. If you can lift 50 pounds, you’re supposed to keep working until you can lift 500 pounds. (…) That takes its toll even on cisgendered men, and on women, who have to put up with it.”
Fascinating. Masculinity as something that by its very nature you can’t ever actually attain. That would likely explain a whole lot of the anxiety some people feel around their masculinity – that it’s not enough to be strong, they need to systematically eliminating all traces of vulnerability; it’s not enough to be financially secure, they need to be constantly scrambling for more money; it’s not enough to be successful, they have to be at the top of their field; and it’s certainly not enough to be straight, they have to utterly abhor any sign of gayness, spurn any affection between men, ridicule any possibility of erotic or even aesthetic appreciation of other guys.
The idea certainly brings with it some troubling thoughts about the fear of femininity. And we all know that fear is a very close cousin to hatred, i.e., in this case, misogyny. If this constant striving for masculinity is pursued in some cases with such intensity, it implies a pretty huge fear of what might happen if one were to stop striving. What is so terrifying about femininity? Julia Serano certainly covers a lot of this ground with great eloquence in her book Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity, and I don’t have it handy so I can’t quote her here, but I strongly recommend giving that book a read if you have a chance.
Leo Bersani takes a somewhat different angle on the same question in his essay “Is the Rectum a Grave?” in Douglas Crimp’s 1988 anthology AIDS: Cultural Analysis, Cultural Activism, in which he makes the simple but eloquent statement that, at least in terms of how society tends to view it, “to be penetrated is to abdicate power” (italics his). He places that statement in a much more complex context than I have room to describe here – do read the article if you’re interested, it’s very thought-provoking. And while I do have some pretty pointed critique about his essay, I also recognize that his points ring true – essentially, he’s saying that because penetration is constructed as being a loss of power, men who are invested in their own heterosexuality (and, I would add here, masculinity) are terrified of the idea of being penetrated, and this terror turns to hatred, and that hatred is homophobia.
This terror about the possible instability of masculine or male power would also explain the homophobia of the Religious Right, whose entire concept is built on a top-down structure in which God is at the head of things, men are the next best thing, and women and kids are at the bottom of the heap. If the inherent power of masculinity – expressed most eloquently in the exclusive power to penetrate and the impossibility of being penetrated (i.e. classic heterosexuality) – is shown, in the act of homosexual penetration, to be very easily shattered, then it would make sense that they’d be very invested in suppressing and decrying that act as unnatural and sinful. And they’d also be very invested in promoting and supporting heterosexuality through all sorts of weighty institutions and cultural propaganda. In a big-picture, Freudian sort of way, the existence of homosexuality blatantly challenges the most fundamental tenets of the entire power structure, and shows it to be exactly as flawed as it very much is.
I would argue that in somewhat different form the same concept rears its head in the kink community, particularly in the actions of dominants and tops (of all genders) with fragile egos and in the way the community does not always treat its bottoms and submissives with respect. If dominance = power = penetration = masculinity, and one element of that equation is challenged, then the whole thing falls apart. And the complementary equation is that submission = powerlessness = being penetrated = femininity, then the whole situation does bear an uncomfortable resemblance to the problems with everyday masculinity, the politics of homophobia, society’s tenacity when it comes to the institution of heterosexuality, and the structure of the Religious Right. Yup. Uncomfortable indeed.
I know I’m extending the concept to a rather extreme degree – from individual emotional experience of a trans man to the oppressive politics of a major worldwide institution – but this extension certainly does line up with what Patrick said tonight. If masculinity is something ever-elusive, never quite solidly gained, always up for question, always needing to be re-secured and re-proven both by what one does and what one would never do, and yet that masculinity intensely valuable, even essential, to the most basic forms of social functioning and to retaining power for oneself, then the stretch is not a big one except in terms of numbers. Of course Patrick was making his statement in service of a talk about FTM identity and sexuality, where the elusive character of masculinity as we construct it can be quite poignantly discouraging in a personal sense, and can leave trans guys feeling like they’re never going to quite measure up. But they’re just the latest people to find themselves trapped in a structure – emotional, psychic, societal, religious, and more – that has trapped all of us for millennia.
I still can’t quite wrap my head around the feeling this creates in me and the intense desire I have to be near him in this way. Friday night, I was performing fellatio and jerking him off with my hands while he sat on the sofa and I knelt naked before him. I had been looking forward to this immensely – working my hardest to make him come using only my mouth and hands and was rewarded when he came in my mouth. I was still sitting on the floor, rubbing my face against his cock and looking up at him, feeling so proud that I did it without any help from him. I’m not sure where the impulse came from, but I was overcome with the need to lay at his feet, wrapping my arms around his leg and gently kissing and licking his foot. I felt so happy to give him such pleasure, that I had worked hard to improve it seemed the perfect thing to do, to offer myself up to him so completely.
He was incredibly moved my this and we’ve been talking about it a lot since. While power play and control are a lot of fun, it’s not something either of us really wants to do 24/7. Many of our discussions come back to the fact that I have opened up to him completely and that that openness requires much from him. I need to know he’s there to catch me, that he cherishes me and will protect me as best he is able. I also need to let him in – to tell him when I need his support and care, to show him my feelings. It’s still scary as hell sometimes.
We are coming off of an incredibly stressful weekend for me – Halloween costumes and sick kids do not a relaxed woman make. He has been taking extra steps to make sure that I am cared for because I am so bad at doing it myself. Some of this care has been difficult to accept. I have a tendency to do for others and push all of my needs to the back until I get that half-step away from my breaking point and my own needs have to be addressed right then and there. Last night he decided that I needed to sleep, so he took care of our youngest all night. This morning he told me that the baby fell asleep on the floor next to the sofa and my response was, “Why didn’t you come and get me to switch with you? I would have slept on the sofa and you could have slept in bed.” His response was an almost stern, “No, you needed your sleep.”
I have been thinking about this all day. My knee jerk reaction was a, “but I’m supposed to take care of you!” My second reaction was a bit more confusing and I’m still not sure what to make of it on a couple of levels. As I mentioned before, I have issues with authority figures – lots of issues. His response to something that was not directly bedroom related (yeah, I know in the broadest sense it *is* related to the bedroom) kind of threw me for a loop. I am his submissive, and the form that submission is taking sometimes looks like the popular notion of BDSM, but for the most part involves me opening myself up completely to him and pleasing him to the best of my ability while he takes care of me. I’m having a little bit of trouble reconciling our reality with what I think submissives are *supposed* to do.
I can separate out the knee-jerk authority figure fear, but letting go of this next level of control is going to be a bit harder. I’ve always craved this kind of care and devotion – mainly because I’ve never had it. Now I do and once again I am scared by it for all the usual reasons – that it’s going to prove to be too much for him and he’ll decided I’m too much work and want to leave me. He, on the other hand is thriving. I have never seen him so confident, so self-assured. I know this is right, that this is the way we both want our dynamic to manifest itself and I have to work on letting go of these fears, knowing that this is what he wants more than anything right now.
Man, is it ever hard to submit sometimes and I have a job ahead of me getting my inner task master to step down and let my husband (who is far more gentle and way less of a sadist) take over. At least there isn’t much pressing going on right now and I can sit at his feet tonight so we can reconnect.
The National Blog Posting Month, or NaBloPoMo, started November 1, and now it’s November … well, 3, but only because I haven’t gone to bed yet. Really it’s the 4th. So I’m getting a late start. But I’m gonna do it! I was invited by the folks behind Queer Canada Blogs. The idea is to get queer Canadian bloggers to post every day for a full month. I’m already a complete fail on that count, but I’m starting now. This means that for the month of November, I’ll be posting daily. They’ll likely be little and they likely won’t be all that exciting, most of the time, but I figure if I can keep this up for a month then I’ll up my chances of managing to post a little more often than once every two or three weeks in future months. Consider it a self-motivation technique.
Today’s post is short and sweet. I will simply use it to direct your attention to a new section on my Kink Resources page: recommended readings and other resources on D/s and protocol. Scroll down past the 101 reading list. For those of you who are interested, this might prove valuable – I gotta tell ya, it’s taken me years to put one together, and even now there is an unfortunate dearth of quality reading material on D/s relationships. There’s not even much out there of crappy quality, for that matter! So if D/s is your bent, enjoy. And if not, well, perhaps something else’ll tickle your fancy in the next few days.
That is all. See you tomorrow, when I’ll be writing to you from the sunny (?) shores of Halifax!
Madam P was so sweet to me this weekend. Sometimes I don’t know what comes over me, but I have a tendency to be very jealous of anyone touching Madam P in a familiar way, past, present or future. And, well, you know, Madam has lived a long, full life; she’s had lovers before me. And intellectually I understand the beauty of that. I get it that Madam is the woman I know and love because of all those experiences of her past, both good and bad. In my more lucid moments, I can feel appreciation and gratitude towards all those people who have been intimate with Madam before she met me; they’ve helped Madam to grow and evolve each in their own way, and they helped keep her from feeling lonely and unloved while she waited for me to find her. But if I allow myself to think about it too much, I’m just so quick to get moody, jealous and withdrawn over these thoughts.
Why I respond this way to thoughts of Madam P’s sexual history seems irrelevant. What is relevant is why at times I feel drawn to think these thoughts that I find so unsettling (much like a moth flying into a lit candle), and what can I do to stop thinking these thoughts so that I can avoid turning moody.
Madam has decided that I don’t need to deal with this issue by myself anymore. This past Saturday I allowed myself to get into that old crazy thought cycle, dwelling on Madam’s past sexual adventures. I could see myself doing it inside my head, and yet I felt powerless to stop it. (Maybe it’s the masochist in me drawn to emotional pain.) Madam does not like to be around me when I get like this. So rather than getting angry with me this weekend, Madam took me in hand and helped me to stop thinking unsettling thoughts.
Early in the day, Madam had to take a trip to the grocery store; before she left, she put me in my cage and locked the door. I stayed in there for about an hour, waiting for Madam to get back from the grocery store. (Madam doesn’t know that I was just waiting for her to leave so that I could guzzle a beer and numb out a little bit; cage time was much healthier for me, body and soul… thank you Madam P!) For a while after Madam let me out, I was my sweet, submissive, doting self with Madam. But I wasn’t done yet.
Later in the evening, residual thoughts came up again, turning me dark and moody one more time. Madam didn’t wait long before she took action.
As I was preoccupied, in my own little moody world, working on my art, Madam came into the room and told me to put everything down and come to her. I was feeling cranky. I was in no mood to play, but I’ve surrendered my will to Madam and I’ve pledged to obey her commands, so I did what was demanded of me. Madam had me place my hands behind my back so that she could snap on a pair of handcuffs. I was then led to the bedroom, where Madam had me kneel beside the bed. She removed her underwear, stuffing them into my mouth, and told me to place my head on the bed face down. She then turned off the lights, closed the door, and left me to stew in the fullness of my submission, restrained, gagged, and in the dark.
A little while later Madam came back into the bedroom, removed her panties from my mouth, gave me a mild spanking, pulled my hair back, and let me know that the moody attitude had to stop immediately. Madam had me say out loud that I’m her slave, that she owns me outright, and that I will obey as I’ve agreed to do. She had me kiss and lick her feet for a little while, grabbed a handful of my hair and asked if I was ready to behave if she uncuffed me. I agreed to be Madam’s good girl for the rest of the evening. Madam uncuffed me, gave me a long, warm hug and let me know that she loves me with all her heart.
Madam P is no bully. She isn’t the kind of Madam that enjoys doling out a lot of physical pain to her slave just for the fun of it. Madam P is always fair, wise and just. Her method of getting my attention and interrupting my crazy thoughts proved to be extremely effective. For the rest of the weekend, I was Madam’s good girl, sweet, submissive and very affectionate towards Madam.
I like myself so much better when I’m sweet and submissive, showering my love and affection all over Madam. I’m so grateful to Madam P for taking me in hand and helping to bring my thoughts back into alignment with who I most want to be: Madam’s sweet slave girl. On Sunday, at an “erotic humiliation” workshop that Madam took me to, the presenter said to me after I shared about how Madam P trains me, “You’re a very lucky girl.” Yes I am; he has no idea!
Madam made it very clear to me today that I need to be very mindful about what I write in this blog. There was an entry up for about 30 minutes this afternoon… I’ll just say that I got into a LOT of trouble for that entry. My heart was in the right place when I wrote it. My heart, however, belongs to Madam, and I want desperately to be Madam’s good girl.
It was very hard for me today when Madam was angry with me. No punishment I can imagine could have been worse than Madam’s disapproval; it hurt me very much. I’m extremely grateful that Madam had calmed down by the time I came home from work. We had a very useful conversation; Madam was firm but understanding. Madam calmed and soothed me my distressed heart.
I love Madam P very much. I never want to do anything to make her that angry at me again. For so long as Madam will allow me to serve her, I want to serve perfectly to her liking. I will gladly take any punishment that Madam deems necessary whenever she deems it necessary in order to never forget Madam’s instructions and guidance. I welcome Madam’s mindfulness training…. I so want to be Madam’s perfect slave girl.
Thank you Madam for allowing me to perform my bedtime ritual of turning down your bed, heating up you bed warmer, undressing you, brushing you hair, and kissing and licking your feet before tucking you in. I feel blessed to serve one so beautiful. And thank you, Madam, for humbling me and putting me firmly in my place. I feel at peace with my lips pressed to your feet; I know of no greater reward than to be allowed to serve you and pamper you.
Yes Madam, I’m for real. If you ask it of me I’m prepared to renew our contract for an additional 8 weeks beyond our current contract even though it doesn’t expire for another 10 days.
Approximately one hour ago, one of my dearest of dear people on this earth, the incomparable Cappy, who I consider a brother, a counselor, and a friend with the depth and nuances that only come from years and years of real conversation, turned the big 3-0.
In a perfect world, I would have insisted that he call in sick to work today, and he’d swoop over to my house to spend the birthday in style. We’d gorge ourselves on baked goods and guzzle bottles of beer while playing cards, maybe ogle some movies.
Then we’d bounce over to Outback (I associate that place with the Cappy and only the Cappy from way back … like, over a decade) to do some damage to fat steak and even taller glasses of booze. We’d laugh at the out-of-work-supermodel waiters and waitresses and repeat many times that they got no use for spoons there.
But, that’s not the case. It’s not a perfect world even at all. It happens that he is in Iraq right now. Second time, no less. If it was me, I’d be down. It’s not me and I’m down. I think that’s why I went all nuts with Makery Monday. I needed to do something because this day was important to him (10/27, not the 26th, to be clear; it’s already tomorrow where he is cause he’s from the future and stuff, being in Iraq), which makes it important to me. My friends are the family I choose for myself. I’ve chosen Captain Jerrid Kyle Allen to be a confidante and counselor for the last decade and a half, plus, and I continue to choose him every day. He’s the Man. You don’t even know! I can’t believe we are not together this day!
“Birthday” by DasPenre on deviantart.
So let’s all turn to the east and blow booze and kisses, okay? I miss you and I love you and I can’t wait to see you, brotha-from-anotha-motha and dearest old friendoh. Happy birthday, JKA.
“Basement Kitchen Cake” by vivavanstory on deviantart.
This one caputed my imagination – how I would love to be dressed up and bound like that!
Her body language is completely accepting of her position as sub and slave. Sometimes I think it would be fun to be a slave for a weekend, just to see how it differs from being a sub!
Don’t know why I felt drawn to this one – but seeing it the first time, I actually gasped out loud – and my hands shook as I saved the image.
I honestly don’t know what I like about this picture the most – the double penetration, the rough way her breasts are being handled, the way her hair being pulled forces her body to arch…or the expression on her face. All I do know for certain is this – I am immensely jealous of her!
I had dreamed for so many years of being bound and ravaged – but those dreams never fully came true until I met Mad Baker. I well remember the first time he showed me an image of tit bondage and I was emphatic that I could never enjoy such a thing *smirks* I was wrong – I love it! – and this picture reminds me of Mad Baker the most.
I never thought of mud as erotic before – until I met Viktor. His descriptions of playing in the mud – being forced to be dirty – both terrified and aroused me. Of all the pictures I have, this one reminds me the most of him.