Dec 122012
 

The number of articles written about the insipid and unfortunate trilogy, 50 Shades, is staggering. But at least most of them are better written than the actual books. Just look at the 1/2 star reviews on Amazon to see what I mean if you’ve managed to miss out on that aspect. This article I stumbled across today points out that while the actual sex is indeed a ridiculous fairy tale, the relationship is a tale of caution.

Much of the media attention thus far has focused on the BDSM relationship between the two main characters. What’s missing, though — in the media, probably in our book clubs and certainly in our conversations with our teenage daughters — is a discussion of a serious and dangerous aspect of their relationship.

Let’s be clear: We’re not talking about BDSM. Our concern is that the interaction between the characters outside the bedroom has been ignored.

From the beginning of the series, Christian Grey’s need to control Ana Steele is unmistakable. He gives her a laptop and BlackBerry so she can be instantly available and shows up at her house when she doesn’t respond quickly enough. He flies thousands of miles to her mother’s house, unexpected and uninvited. The examples go on and on. These events are explained away as romantic, as products of Christian’s intensity, his wealth, his need to control, his childhood abuse. But they are not romantic, nor are they justifiable. They are hallmarks of intimate partner violence (IPV).

And it touches on the stalker aspects of Mr. Grey:

Intimate partner stalking includes repeated and unwanted contact or attention that causes the victim to fear her own safety or the safety of others. Over 16 percent of women have experienced stalking during their lifetimes, and two-thirds of those have been stalked by an intimate partner, such as a boyfriend, spouse or girlfriend. Although alarming, these rates likely underestimate the actual prevalence, as most instances of IPV are not reported to the police. The most common form of stalking is repeated and unwanted phone calls or text messages; Christian’s first gifts of a laptop and BlackBerry may not be coincidental.

Millions of women are romanticizing the entire book series, skimming over the IPV and focusing on the unrealistic sex and the “romance”. Women who are in the position of Ana Steele likely do not recognize it at first. Even when they do recognize it, they feel that there is nothing that can be done. After all, what will the cops do about phone and email stalking and harassing? Not much until the perpetrator threatens harm or shows up in person. Yet to live with that kind of stalking is terrifying, sickening and is a life filled with despair.

What’s worse though is reading the comments on this article. There are a few people who are still unable to see Christian’s actions as “stalkerish” and still see it as “romantic”. Too many people are going to think that because “oh he had good reason”. There is never good reason to behave this way.

’50 Shades of Grey’: Expanding the Conversation from Sexy to Safety by Peggy Andover, PhD and Colleen Jacobson

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~

This great post, written well before the 50 Shades bullshit, is very useful for not just kinksters but anyone who is dating. Remove the BDSM aspects and you still have a creepy, unhealthy person: A Field Guide to Creepy Dom.

The Creepy Dom isn’t just a character in a Dungeon or sex club, he (or she) can be the predator next door, the sweet person you develop an online relationship with, or the guy you meet through the vanilla dating site. Sadly, the ability to recognize and run away isn’t something gained with age. The writer of the post linked does talk about the propensity for young girls in the kink scene to be fooled by “Doms” older than their father but I assure you the ability to be conned and believe the con is not bound by age. It can happen to anyone, be they 18, 34 or 52. I wish I had seen this post years ago and memorized it like a doctrine. 

The anatomy of a Creepy Dom, according to Asher (explanations available in the post, so read it):

1. He comes on too strong, too fast

2. He’s consensually challenged

3. He has “connections” and is “experienced”

4. He “essentializes” dominance and submissions

5. He manipulates your desire to be a good bottom

6. He’s usually doing something wrong

I’d like to add in one of my own:

7. He seeks out submissives who have little to no real life experience, for they are easier to manipulate

Read it. Memorize it. Live it. And be careful out there.

Do you have any to add to the list, after reading Asher’s post?

Sep 052012
 

When I recently visited my longtime friend, the topic turned of course to sex at one or two points. Clinical, theoretical, opinionated talks. One topic, after numerous drinks by the couple, turned to how much noise my friend makes in bed. Or, rather, doesn’t make.

My bold, outspoken, ballsy, loud-mouthed friend is the exact opposite in the bedroom. That’s not to say she’s “frigid” (I hate that word). She loves sex. Her sex drive is crazy high. She especially loves sucking cock and freely, openly admits this in most cases. It turns her on immensely. Unfortunately, this is the only real thing that her boyfriend knows for sure arouses her. When it comes to sex she literally tightens up. He will see glimpses of her arousal and pleasure bursting at the seams but the moment a sigh escapes her lips she unknowingly clams up.

The discussion about this was basically him openly, and lovingly, telling her what she does/doesn’t do and telling her why he’d like her to be more free. To wake the neighbors. Not just for him, but for her, as well. He reasons that because she’s not at all vocal, be it in voice or body language, to his ministrations, he’s never really sure what or if she is enjoying. After a while, my friend started to take it all the wrong way and assume that he and I were saying that there was something wrong with her and that she wasn’t good enough in bed. He insisted that the sex is phenomenal, he loves it, but he knows that she could enjoy it even more and therefore so could he. That getting her off gets him off. Seeing that he is indeed giving her great pleasure is the best thing for him. I would have to agree with him on that…I absolutely need that feedback, I thrive off of it. I know my husband does, too.

We know why she’s like this. She was married to the first and only guy she ever slept with for a long time. Her and her ex had been together for something like 15 years. Her ex wasn’t much into sex. He never, not even on their wedding day, told her he thought she was beautiful. Sex was always brief, perfunctory and very infrequent. Quiet was encourage. Experimentation was not. So the boyfriend of less than a year has a LOT of “damage” to undo. My friend just feels weird making noise. Or saying anything. And then the circle goes right back.

Another topic in this long conversation came around to how rough each of them likes their sex because somehow my friend and I got to talking about BDSM a little bit. She wanted to know what it all stood for, what the words meant. She liked the sound of both masochist and sadist. Rough sex was discussed between the two of them….a little spanking, a little throwing around, etc. They’re both in great shape and she’s got the most incredible pain tolerance. Yet he’s not quite comfortable with being rough enough to spank her. He’s afraid he’ll hurt her. She’s afraid of hurting him. Despite both of them sitting there telling the other “It won’t hurt that much, don’t worry about me”, they kept insisting the same thing. It was like a huge circle talk of frustration. I’d like to think that some good came out of it all though. I’m hoping it did, since last week she texted me for recommendations on ball gags and wrist restraints. Yay!

So what do you think?

Does making noise mean better sex, if it’s genuine and not re-enacting the scene from When Harry Met Sally? Are there better ways for people like my friend to convey what is working and what isn’t, when they’re not comfortable saying a peep?

May 222012
 

A Twitter friend pointed us to HuffPo’s article on this past weekend’s BDSM-angled con, DomConLA. She was specifically pointing out that RedemptionsGirl is in a few of the photos, but what I took notice of was actually some curious wording.

“…..who is a willing submissive at a dungeon party during the DomConLA convention”

I cocked my head and thought it a bit strange. And then when I flipped through the slideshow more, I saw that that “disclaimer” was on every. single. photo.

Except for three. The three that featured a submissive male being whipped.

” Domina beats a submissive man at a dungeon party during the DomConLA convention”

There is no distinctive wording here to emphasize that he is a willing submissive. Why? Why is there a need to state the obvious for the female subs but not the male? Why state the obvious at all? The article is about DomConLA – a highly respected kinky conference that has visitors from all levels of kink & fetish.Taking bets on how many times Consent was reference, inferred or discussed at length would be like guessing how many M&Ms are in that 5 gallon jug at the bridal shower.

Then again….the comments on the article are filled with ignorant trolls. It’s fairly clear to me that the aspect of ‘Fifty Shades of Gray’ that is “sweeping the nation” isn’t the BDSM aspect at all. It’s the “saving the man” aspect; it’s the Cinderella-twist aspect; it’s the “she orgasms on command over and over and over and over” aspect. The majority of the general American public is just way too judgmental to even tolerate a mere article on DomConLA.

“People often abuse their bodies because they feel ugly inside.”

“these people didnt get enough hugs growing up…”

“or they got way too many!”

“Maybe that’s the only way ugly people can get attention…?”

Not all comments are negative like this. But enough are to make me never go back and read anything else “sexually progressive” at HuffPo. Anyways these jerks aren’t my point. My point is that I fail to understand on any level why apologies, excuses and special words are needed to make sure the intolerant jerks don’t flip out even more about these “willing submissive women”.

Please weigh in with your opinion. Enlighten me. Because I’m not going to understand this all on my own.

“Please, Sir: Erotic Stories of Female Submission”

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May 042010
 

There was a point in time when I wanted to devour all BDSM erotica books. To glean knowledge, to gather ideas for us.

When things ended with R, I went to the opposite side of the spectrum. I removed those books from my wishlist. I’d skip over male D / female s stories in other anthologies. For awhile I even stopped reading the blogs of submissive women. But I’ve gotten better, I’d gotten over it mostly…..

Or so I thought.

By the third story, I was getting that little ache inside. Except that this time, it wasn’t a good ache for me. It was an empty ache. Acknowledging what I’d tried so hard to bury for months.

I missed having someone to call Sir.

I missed pleasing someone. I missed the power exchange. I ached for the physical domination. The hair pull. The throat grab.

By page 37, I had to put the book down. My cunt was thrumming and wet, but my chest was aching and raw. “Another day, I’ll try again on another day when my mental status is a little more firm….when I don’t miss it quite so badly”, I thought. Take this as a testament, then, as to the quality of these first stories.

As with any anthology there is a wide variety of writing styles, topics, angles and more. You’re bound to have a few favorites and a few you couldn’t even finish reading in amongst all the stories contained within. While a few stories in this book didn’t fully trip my switch, I must say they were all good stories. And some? Some are shining stars that kept me riveted for those few moments, lost in the imagery and thought and words. I was left wanting. If you are in a D/s relationship already then perhaps this book can serve for excellent imagination-fodder to fuel your current explorations.

I think one of my favorites was about a woman who has been taking a self-defense class from a martial arts instructor. She comes in on a Saturday for a make-up class, they’re alone and tick tock the moves get more sexual as the minutes go on. Power fighting against power. Her angry power to his calm power. Hmm I think I might develop a thing for guys who study martial arts after reading this one.

My other favorites include a couple about semi-public concealed foreplay and sex. Is that really a surprise to you, though? I didn’t think so. I, too, could possibly enjoy the opera if I had a calculating and controlling Master making me squirm.

Check out the book trailer and then go buy the book! If you’re at all into female submission…you’re going to want to read this book. Also at the book’s WordPress site you should check out this post where Rachel reads the story she had in this anthology about a topic I’ve fantasized about yet never experienced……erotic choking and face-slapping.

Jun 072009
 

I told her I wanted her to come for me. Not just for me but for ME. What I had in mind was risky but the high erotic factor of it was clouding my brain and I just wanted it. Hadda have it. I felt my greed take over.

But first….the torture.

Off and on throughout the day.

……and what if Barry, the guy across the aisle and down one, can smell your wet cunt as you…..

……i would do it if you told me to but please….please don’t make me go to……

…..Sarah, don’t you want to show off that body? I know I do, I want to show you off while…..

…..i am torn with your words and torn between wanting and not wanting….

Little bits and what-if’s peppered into the day. I grew more sadistic and suggestive as the afternoon wore on, my mix of humiliation and erotic sensual scenarios had her begging for respite. Just begging for me to allow my slut to escape to the 8th floor restroom for a quick wank. I denied her time and again and told her she needed to wait until 5pm. I wouldn’t tell her why. But oh can you just imagine…a horny girl, skirt and no panties? Hard to resist, isn’t it….

I went to her desk to get her promptly at 5. The majority of people in the office, in the building in fact, worked earlier shifts. Very few people were left and they all tended to practically run for the elevators at 4:58. I leaned down and whispered “Sarah….spread your legs for me…” She glanced around, as if I hadn’t already checked on this, and as she spread her legs I reached up her skirt. I ran my hand up the inside of her thigh and pushed it out to spread her further for me. I let my fingers trail over her mound before I slipped one finger past her lips to find that she was, quite literally, dripping wet. Thick and sticky. I roughly rubbed a finger over and around her clit for a few seconds before I pulled away. She was biting her lip to prevent herself from making a sound.

“Gather your things, Sarah, and follow me. Now.”

I took her to our favorite out-of-the-way restroom and headed to the back stall, the large handicapped one. As I entered it, she hesitated, until it was obvious that I was holding the door waiting for her to come in as well. She looked at me with such uncertainty but didn’t say anything. I hung our two bags on the back of the stall door; I stood just in front of the toilet and I had her stand facing me, her back to the door. I yanked her shirt up over her head, just the front of it, hooking it behind her neck. Her chest exposed but the shirt was still “on”.

Next, I shoved the cups of her bra down and under her tits. I couldn’t help myself, I couldn’t resist giving a firm hard pinch and pull to one nipple, just to watch her struggle with staying silent despite the pain and pleasure that caught her by surprise. I then lifted the front of her full knee-length skirt and shoved the material of it up and through the band of her bra. Her cunt and tits fully exposed for me but her clothes were still on. Depraved and beautiful.

As I kept an ear out for the telltale squeak of the door (I pray they never fix that loud squeak) I sat down on the toilet and whispered her instructions with my lips to her ear, threatening to graze her sensitive neck. She was to sit on my lap. Facing me. Bring her legs up off the floor if she could manage it. I lifted my own skirt up my body so that she would be sitting on my bare skin – there was purpose in this beyond the need to feel skin to skin.

My sweet girl complied and I stared at this gorgeous filthy girl who was mine and just inches away. We had never been quite this close before, this intimate.

“Come for me, slut. Right here, and hurry up.”

The warmth radiated from her cunt, her musky scent filled my nostrils and the decadent wet sloshy sounds nearly drove me insane with lust as she furiously rubbed her clit. Her chest broke out in redness, her brow furrowed in concentration – concentrating on coming for me but also being silent. I just could not help myself as I leaned my head forward and my mouth latched onto her nipple. A small, surprised squeak slipped past her lips as I roughly sucked and bit her. Suddenly her breathing was more erratic and quick; I stopped, leaned back and watched the show about to happen.

She clenched her eyes shut, tucked her chin and bit her lower lip. Then she held her breath for a few seconds and I knew she was climaxing when her eyes opened, her head tipped back and her mouth opened wide, lips forming a big “O”. I watched her cunt and I could partially see the spasms and contractions; my favorite sight. Her feet touched the ground and she put a hand on the stall wall to steady herself as her body came down from the high of climaxing.

I waved her off me and motioned for her to fix her clothing as I fixed my own and cleaned up (the damn slut left quite a mess on my thighs!). She then made a move to reach for the toilet paper to wipe away the wetness that was no doubt running down her thighs but I stopped her. I opened the stall door, peeked around and saw no one. I shoved her out ahead of me and finally was able to speak.

“You’re going to walk to your car like that, all sodden and slutty. The breeze will dry you while also carrying your scent to those around you. Don’t hide your face; act as if nothing is amiss and see if you can tell who notices. Report back to me tomorrow morning.”

I kissed her then, hard and crazed and full of lust.

We walked out together; I wanted to make sure she didn’t secretly detour to a bathroom before exiting the building. We walked our separate ways, while I practically ran for my car. I absolutely HAD to orgasm before I was fit for driving.


Part Two

Part One

Jun 052009
 

 

 

 

015

 

There were two reasons I requested this paddle to review. The first being the novelty factor of having something “imprint” the word SLUT on my ass. The second being that it was an affordable leather paddle of smaller length (only 12″).

The Slut paddle is made by Sportsheets. It’s basically made from two shapes of leather – they are stitched together with a metal flat rod running through for the handle (making it nice and solid) and then left “open” for the paddle part employing a “double slapper” type of paddle. In between the two pieces is a piece of red paper – that’s the red you see in the photograph. It’s sewn in there but for what purpose, I’m not sure. Aesthetics?

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