Monday, April 27, 2015

Wicked Wednesday: The Picky Prude


Gifted with the rare three-day weekend, I found myself spending a fuck load more money than I really should have. The local munch was Saturday night, and I spent my first Saturday morning off since October at the local Farmer's Market with Kitty, discussing photography for the blog. I have received consent from some local community members to use pictures of them from our parties in the blog, and I'm rather excited.

Look at them all...
Yesterday, planning to go to Lane Bryant with a friend, I ended up in a bookstore located in the same strip mall while waiting for her to get there. It was a bit of a mess, empty shelves sitting in odd places. The genres had been moved around since I was last there. Stuff was strewn about in some aisles. It was fairly sad looking.

I searched fruitlessly for a section that might have books on dancing, and ended up combing the Romance section for the one case of erotica that was usually tucked away in the middle.

Lo and behold, I stumbled upon two full cases of BDSM erotica. Needless to say, I was baffled. The last time I'd been in a bookstore, the erotica section was a single case with a handful of kinky ones scattered about. This appeared to be literally 2 cases of nothing but kink erotica.

At least is doesn't
say billionaire on
the cover. 
Although, they were in no logical order. I found Anne Rice in a few different spots and Fifty Shades was shoved in random places in both cases. I just kind of stared at it for a few minutes before I started taking pictures of covers and titles. At first, I was just snapping the 50 Shades ripoff titles until I started noticing they were all kink books.

Then I noticed that not a single one of these books was a standardized mass market paperback, leading to a litany of internal grumblings. I hate buying $16 books with 12 point font and double spacing. In fact, I don't. I refuse to spend that much on books like that. I grew up reading 800-page 8pt. font single spaced fantasy novels and bemoaning they weren't longer. My inner cheapskate hates the publishing market's habit of making books, fonts, and spacing bigger so they can sell you less content at a higher price.

12 Shades of I'm not
But, I found my way to the bargain shelves, equally as disheveled as the other cases, no rhyme or reason to the placement of the books. Sylvia Day and Shayla Black were littered about, shoved between mysteries and histories. I would pick up a book, flipping to a random page, looking for the dirty scenes. Mostly checking to see that they were actually kinky.

Now, I never developed a taste for vulgarity with my sex. I'm not a porn enthusiast. I actually find most porn repulsive. I end up watching subtitled hentai if I bother at all because I can't understand what they're actually saying. I grew up reading historical romance where the sex was described with a more poetic turn of phrase.

Except the word cock. The word cock appeared a lot. Cock doesn't bother me.

Cunt though? I hate even typing it. I find it extremely jarring to read, and tend to stop reading any sex scene where it appears. So I flipped open one of the Sylvia Day affairs...Bared to You, I think, saw "blah blah blah cunt" and slodged it back on the shelf. I also get a pang of distaste when I see the word "pussy," especially when it makes no sense for the character to be using it in the first place. Like coming from a rancher's daughter in 1870s Texas.

What? I have high expectations of my porn. And that includes language consistent with the time period and social status of the protagonists. So I typically pick up historical or fantasy titles to avoid words like cum, pre-cum, creaming (and variations thereof), and the words mentioned above.

Reviews coming
...I think I just made myself a little ill.

I did manage to pickup a couple of titles, and during the course of my explorations, I noticed that the 4th Beauty book by Anne Rice had released. I preordered it a few months ago and I've started reading it on my Kindle. Future Kink Lit posts on each of these titles.

I can't say that Anne Rice's porn is really to my tastes either, because I'm not into all of the fetishes evarrrr. However, I read the first three, so it only seems fitting to read the latest installment, even if the cover is hideously boring. I loved the Renaissance-esque paintings that were the covers of the trilogy.

I can't say as I'm ever going to be an erotica critic. I don't like porn enough for that, but I'll share with you what I manage to pick up. I figure if I'm going to write kinky fiction, I should read some of it.

Although, as you can see, I'm a bit of a relative prude. Then again, Puritans were excellent examples of masochists, no?

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Monday, April 20, 2015

A Horse Among Unicorns: Embracing my Straight

Prior to entering the scene as an anxiety-ridden 19 year old, I had never had cause to question my sexuality. Perhaps, that was because prior to that year, my only form of sexual expression occurred within the romance novels I read and the copious characters I roleplayed online. But, upon finding BDSM, I was suddenly bombarded with the vastness of female bisexuality. Even before I found FetLife, a writing partner I'd been exploring with was trying to pressure me into writing bisexual scenes with him and other female writers. At the time, the concept made me nauseated every time I even tried.

In July of that year, I was led to FetLife by another writer friend, a bisexual male switch. I was much like every dumbass virgin newbie that crawls onto Fet, unsure of what was cool. Doing what my friend said I should to find friends. Naked women are certainly in abundant supply on FetLife, as are bisexual women. I probably know more bisexual women in the lifestyle than any other sexuality. That fall, I also moved into a dorm with my best friend at the time, who was also bisexual.

I was naturally conflicted. I'd never been remotely curious about women before, but suddenly I was surrounded by tits and women expressing interest in me where men never had before. I developed a relationship with a married couple about an hour from where I went to school, although my primary connection was with the woman. I made the incredibly stupid decision to go stay with them for a weekend to have my first kinky experience.

It was fairly disastrous overall. I did get a kickass flogging one night and a spanking the next, but the experience was fraught with painfully long awkward silences. A submissive virgin with a severe anxiety disorder with a couple who tried to make me decide everything. I took away a new confusion, my first kiss having been with a woman and my first remotely sexual experience with a couple. I thought then that I was likely attracted to women, despite the mild boredom I experienced while kissing her. I know now that those feelings were simply the arousal I experienced from the impact play, my confirmation that my masochism was more than just fap fodder relegated to fantasy.

My first slave bracelet. Given to me by
my roommate before I introduced her
to BDSM.
I proceeded to engage in an amitie amoureuse with my roommate. It was admittedly relatively chaste. It mostly consisted of existing around each other in a comfortable state of nudity with occasional petting. I would also take boudoir pictures of her when she started dating the couple I had initially played with.

Then it happened, I finally came upon a man who'd expressed interest, and foolishly entered into a relationship almost immediately. He refused to go to parties with me, and would not permit me to bottom at parties. My ultimate solution was to learn to top, which he agreed to, but his stipulation was that I only top women. So that is what I did, and it opened up the new can of worms. He ultimately pressured me into a sort of threesome, which a close friend agreed to participate in. It was horrifically awkward. No one ended up having any sex beyond us giving him oral. He had us fondle and kiss each other, but nothing more happened.

My wings from my first night with
my ex-dom.
It was that night that I realized I wasn't bi after all. Despite my friend's skill, kissing her was tedious. I just kept thinking Are we done yet? I'm bored. I wasn't repulsed by women sexually, but I wasn't attracted either. There was no chemistry at all. No spark. Nothing about the encounter aroused me at all. I was just bored. It seemed silly then, to even foster the idea of being into women when I so clearly wasn't.

Not that they really stop pressuring you after that. But that relationship ended, thankfully.

After I got out of that dynamic, I entered into a primarily nonsexual D/s arrangement with a couple I was friends with. I served as a pet to both the guy and the girl, although the girl and I would take turns topping each other. I topped others of different genders during that time. Because of this, I got more pressure from the community to "admit" that I was really bisexual.

Kitty's rack whilst chained to a rack.
I even had someone say to me that I really am bisexual, I just haven't admitted it to myself yet. It pissed me off royally. I was annoyed that their need for me to bisexual was more important than my actual sexuality, that they felt that my general comfort and affection with my female friends meant that they knew my sexuality better than me.

For the longest time, I listed myself as heteroflexible, because I felt that I somehow had to because of my willingness to top women and to be topped by them. Somewhere between my pet dynamic and my current relationship, I abandoned that label entirely and embraced the fact that was completely straight regardless of who I choose to whack with a whip on occasion.

Of course, new conflicts abound even while secure in my relationship with Daddy. He is stereotypical in his heterosexual maleness in that he has a thing for lady sex. I am unusual acquisition for him, as, in the past, he has typically dated bisexual women and fully encouraged them to have female playmates. Some he shared, some he didn't, but orgies were a fairly common feature of his life.

So, imagine him snatching up straight, monogamous me.

He, like my first dom, permits me to play with cisgendered women, although he permits me to both top and bottom. The bottom part has been few and far between, as there are a dearth of female tops in my area. I often have to train my own tops. Which I have no problem with. Peach is my latest "mentee."
My butt after Peach's attentions.
I'm too pale for good photos. XD

Last night, she had her first solo session with me. I worked myself up with anticipation as I am wont to do when I have been reading copious amounts of smut, cranking up the horny into my more easily swayed state. She did wonderfully for her first solo top, but I come away with the same feeling I get every time I'm topped by a woman. I'm just so painfully straight. I mean, I experienced basic arousal from the play because I am a masochist and a knife whore and nothing will change that, but...

It's not the same. I often talk of how I can separate masochism from sex, but without the domination and the sex, it's just not the same.

Joking about lesbians doing things
to my butt. 
It's in these moments that I feel I have somehow failed at something. It's no fault of the tops I play with. It's not a reflection of their work in the slightest. I just can't sink into a feeling I can't experience in the first place. I feel bad about it. I feel bad that I can't please Daddy by liking women and wholeheartedly enjoying a female playmate.

I shouldn't. My straightness should not be a failing on my part. It shouldn't be a detriment to me. I shouldn't be ashamed of it. I shouldn't have my opinions discounted because I happen to be wired for heterosexuality, although I have had people on FetLife write off my responses because of it.

He's not a complete dick though.
I am moderately disappointed that Daddy places no limits on what I can do with another woman. He says "You just need to remember that I usually date bisexual girls and encourage them to have a playmate."

Well, you have to understand, that I am not simply heterosexual. I am what I clumsily term "monosexual." Even if I managed to be bisexual, I am utterly incapable of feeling sexual attraction for more than one person at a time. Theoretical acts? Yes. People? No.

Also, vaginas. I just can't with the vaginas.

Or the vulvas. 'Cause they're not the same thing.

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

KotW: Snicker-Snack

I am an unabashed knife whore, a lover of all things sharp and shiny and stabby that are not needles. Because needles can go fuck themselves. But knives? Daggers? Swords? Mmm. Glorious, beautiful things that feel so nice when drawn delicately across the skin.

My latest acquisition, from a local
Viking/Celtic festival.It's purple, 
to match my other toys!

Now, cutting? Meh. I mean, I might engage in a minor bit of slicing on a bad day, with Daddy's permission, of course. He's not overly fond of the habit, but since I ask so rarely, he's never said no. As for actual knife play? Yeah, no cutting. In fact, if I come away with scratches, I feel the top has been a bit too heavy handed with it. I did knife play once with a top I'd never played with before and came away looking I'd been mauled by a cat. Showering was a bitch the next day, for sure.

I just love the sensation of a sharp edge sliding across my skin. It has to be sharp too. Once you've grown used to a fine edge, a dull one is just disappointing.

A friend has labeled this my Batarang.
I enjoy a fair dose of fear play, and there are tops that like to hold the dull edge against slice quickly to make you panic.  I'm one of those annoying bottoms that can tell the difference between edges, so that trick just makes me mad. I'd rather deal with the distinct thrill of having that sharp edge sliding over more...delicate...bits of the anatomy.

Daddy was, shall we say, a bit resistant to the idea when I told him I was seriously into knives. He'd had an accident with a previous partner who had moved at the wrong time with a knife in the twatular vicinity. I've brought him back around though, if one of his purchases is anything to go by. He sent me a picture of this knife and told me he'd bought it for me. He was even considering engraving "Rabbit" into the blade. I was quite squeeful to say the least, which led to the lovely little quip:
So pretty. His arm is pretty hot too.

"I find it funny that you're more scared of my dick than the huge ass knife I just bought for you. Most women would look at the dick and say 'yay' and the knife and run, but you're the other way around." 

What can I say? I'm odd. But, in my defense, his dick is kind of huge.

The little ones are LotR sword replicas,
disappoingtingly dull. The one in the
top right is a dragon dagger with a
It's been a long time since I've done any bottoming. I typically spend most parties service topping, but the few times I have bottomed in the last year, it was knife play with my primary play partner, Kitty. She carries around a set of throwing knives in her bag and we've made great use of those. It's the only activity she's really topped, and she is brilliant at it. In certain positions, I can almost fall asleep, it's so relaxing.

Since December, I've acquired my own collection of knives and started adding them to my topping sessions. In fact, this weekend, I'm taking my shiny babies to my student, Peach's house, to give a lesson in knife topping. And, perhaps, to get the first beating I've gotten in a while. But, I suppose that's another post. I'm sure knives will be making their way into future posts as well, because omg, I can't walk past a knife case without drooling.

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Here Thar Be Spankos

I recently purchased a subscription of Kindle Unlimited to make my spankophile erotica habit a little less hard on my pocketbook. I typically have a hard time finding kink lit I like. One, because I've never been sure where to find it. Two, because BDSM smut tends to involve a lot of fetishes that I have no real interest in at all. Namely, same sex encounters and multiple partner stuff.

I was strangely excited when a list of DD (Domestic Discipline) posted on ADDS popped up in my twitter feed. I'm not sure why it hadn't occurred to me before to look up DD romance. I have a pretty big discipline fetish, not to mention being a spankophile. I also personally engage in monogamous M/f dynamics. DD romance is perfect smut for me.

Except "bottom" is starting to sound really damned stupid in my head. Spanko fiction really likes to employ this word over options like rump, backside, butt...or, you know, ass. I began to wonder at the idea of a bunch of grown ass women and men using the word bottom that much. I mean, it made sense in the Victorian-themed Disciplining the Duchess by Annabel Joseph. But in the Rod and Cane Society series, a bunch of contemporary women ranging in age from 23 to 45, the word bottom looks funny. Especially in sex scenes that use terms like pussy, cunt, cock, precum, and creaming.

Did I mention I have some linguistic hangups about my sex terminology? Lots of them, but I suppose me waxing rhetoric about imagery and emotion conjured by words just by their sound is probably a post for another time, if anyone is even interested in me nerding out on language in the first place.

Something I noticed in the various stories I read, is that most of the authors I read have a particular fascination for paddles and canes. I'm a belt whore myself, but only one of the DD stories, Rod and Cane 4 (Which doesn't even really count as book at 58 pages), used a belt. Two of the stories included figging, which terrifies the shit out of me.

I really enjoyed the Rod and Cane Society stories, despite how some of the sex scenes made me cringe because of the wording, but that's a matter of personal taste. They get a bit preachy about the benefits of DD in a marriage. It got to where I kept thinking "Do people actually think that hard about it all the damn time?" It sounds exhausting to be that navel-gazey. I also became skeptical of all these tall, buff alpha males in their 30s and their slender, large-breasted submissive ladies in heels and thongs.

I mean, I like tall buff alpha males in their 30s, but where's the love for the petite, squishy lady with a rather modest set of tatas and a tendency to be barefoot? I also don't own a thong. Butt floss just sounds uncomfy and I don't have the right kind of ass for it. Besides, I resent being charged the same amount or more for 1/6th of the fabric that goes into real panties.

'Sides, I got a big butt. Gimme a big lady DD book, mmkay?

You know, one that's not a "Billionaire Romance," because pretty much all the BBW BDSM books I've seen on Kindle have the word Billionaire in it.

Quit 50 Shadesing everything, kay?


Dat's a thing. Dunno why. But it is.

Any of you lovely folks got any recommendations for spanking smut? I'm always looking for new shit to read at work when I'm bored.