Wednesday, December 21, 2016

e[Lust] - #89

Photo courtesy of Sex is My New Hobby

Welcome to Elust 89-

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you're looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it'll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #90 Start with the rules, come back January 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

When the Tears Finally Came

The pure and simple truth

One Down

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Disabilities & Submission, Part 2: I Say No

UnRepentant Darkness

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Hoar Frost…

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Hold me down
Keeping me chaste
Say My Name
The Little Things
Learning To Truss
A New Use
My Mania is My Drug
Life as a Laissez-Faire Domme

Erotic Fiction

Candy, Caned
Jax and Rickie’s First Kiss
New Collar

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Why You Should Make a Sex Tape
And the winner is...doggy style!
Pleasantville: The Promise of Trump's America
Bdsm reasons for not hitting children
An Open Letter to

Erotic Non-Fiction

The Fun Of Being Stripped Of Wet Running Kit!
I want to lick your pussy some more
KIDNAP - a story of fear, pain and sex
Well, that's new...
Objectionable Hair - A Lady's Taboo

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

The Cub
I still have hope
A Baker’s Dozen #fucketlist



Elust 88

Wednesday, December 14, 2016

Thief in the Night: Part 3: Mischief

"Wonderful," Professor Raycraft said, continuing to scribble away at the papers on his desk. "We have reached a bargain." He blew the ink dry and folded the paper, slipping it into an envelope from this desk drawer. He plucked the signet ring from the pile in front of him and a stick of sealing wax from another drawer.

"Fetch me a candle, Miss Kraus." He sat back in his chair, watching her steadily to see if she would obey.

Diebin hesitated a moment, gauging the look in his eyes. There was amusement glittering in the lamplight, perhaps smug satisfaction at having caught the spider in her own web, but there was steel also. Hard, unyielding steel. She let out a shuddering breath, from what emotion she could not place, and rose from her seat to collect the candle with which he'd lighted the lamps. He continued to stare at her as she brought it back and set it lightly on the desk.

Raycraft held the wax over the flame for a moment or two before dripping it onto the envelope. He slipped the ring on and pressed his seal into the wax, leaving a perfect impression of the spires and scrolls in crimson relief. He took up the envelope and stood, looking down at her.

"You will stay here until I come to fetch you. Do endeavor to restrain your kleptomania. I will know if you take something else." He left the room and locked the door behind him.

Diebin continued to glare at the door after he left. What had she gotten herself into? It was perhaps too late to renege, but she might always find her escape another night. In the mean time, she might as well appreciate dwelling in a fine house. It was no lord's manor, but it was certainly finer than to that which she was accustomed.

She wandered around the room, taking in the contents now that it was illuminated by the lamps. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with numerous tomes and foreign curiosities. One shelf was dedicated entirely to tiny models of famous buildings from around Europe. The Parthenon, the Colosseum, St. Basil's Cathedral, the Arc de Triomphe, all sat in miniature splendor on the slightly dusty shelves. They were beautifully intricate. She smirked a bit and switched the places of a few of the figurines.

She moved down the line of books, dragging her finger along the spines. They appeared to be arranged in alphabetical order by author. She snickered and moved several of those as well, careful to match the height of each book with its replacement. Diebin wondered how long it would take him to notice, and how long it would take him to blame her. To her credit, she hadn't stolen anything.

Mischief managed, she returned to her seat, awaiting the return of her would-be jailer.

He soon strode back into the room, two articles in his hand. One appeared to be a thin linen shift, the other a thick leather hound's collar with a silver plate upon it. He held them out to her.

"Your livery, Miss Kraus."

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

Tuesday, December 13, 2016

Elements of Control: What is Control?

1. The power to influence or direct people's behavior or the course of events
2. The ability to manage a machine, vehicle, or other moving object:
3. The restriction of an activity, tendency, or phenomenon:
4. The ability to restrain one's own emotions or actions
1. Determine the behavior or supervise the running of
2. Maintain influence or authority over
3. Remain calm and reasonable despite provocation - Source

Recently I came across a supposition on Fetlife that asserted the equation Ritual + Protocol = Control. I instinctively disagreed with this idea, as neither of those things are high priorities within my relationship. It got me thinking about what control is and what comprises this concept of control we use within authority/power dynamics. Because, while the proposed equation is simple, control is certainly not. I thought perhaps I might explore the idea of control and subsequently the elements that can combine to form this idea.

But first, I think it's helpful to figure out what control is, at least within the context of authority dynamics before delving into its atomic structure, so to speak. After perusing a few different dictionaries, I settled on the OED, which provided those listed above, among other less relevant choices. Of these, the following seem most applicable to the concept we refer to when discussing power relationships.

1. The power to influence or direct people's behavior or the course of events
1. Determine the behavior or supervise the running of
2. Maintain influence or authority over

The key concepts in these definitions are directing behavior and influence. I would hazard to say that these represent the two major facets of control, active and passive. Determining or directing behavior involves active control, whereas influence is not always so overt.

For example, active control would involve things such as establishing rules, issuing commands, physical manipulation/restriction, restriction of access, etc. Influence is a more subtle beast, in which the burden falls more on the side of the controlled. Planting ideas rather than mandating them, expressions of preference, displays of pleasure or displeasure.

So, I would perhaps say that Directing Behavior + Influencing Behavior = Control. Everything else, including ritual and protocol would fall under those parameters. And perhaps I am wrong in my use of the term "elements" in referring to the aspects of control. As I would say that things like rituals and protocols are manifestations of control rather than components of it. Control can exist absent specific manifestations such as protocol, ritual, rules, physical restriction, etc.

Even so, I'd like to explore these ideas, and how they apply within my own relationship and I hope you'll join me in my rampant navel-gazing as I go through this series on control.

Monday, December 5, 2016

Thief in the Night: Part 2: An Offer

Diebin threw her elbow back into his gut and was sprinting toward the door before the grunt of pain hit her ears. She took the stairs two at a time, landing with an indelicate thump on each step. At the foot of the staircase, she caught the newel post at the cap and swung about, propelling herself towards the main door. Much heavier footfalls thundered behind her, echoing on the hollow floors. She flung her hand out toward the knob, only to have her fingers just brush against the idea of freedom as her pursuer snatched up her braid and yanked her backward. The entryway rug slipped from beneath her, spilling her onto her rump.

Air rushed from her lungs and pain ran up her spine at the impact. She shook her head, dazed. The man caught her by the scruff of her coat and shook her roughly, making her pockets jingle with the bits and bobs she'd already pilfered from the study.

"A busy little thief, I see," he grumbled, a hint of amusement in his tone. He lifted her bodily from the ground by her coat before switching his grip back to the thick base of her braid and guided her back into study in which she'd found the signet ring nestled over her left breast.

"Sit." he commanded, thrusting her toward a chaise lounge upholstered in forest green velvet which sat across from a great cherry wood desk.

She eyed him warily as she moved to obey, her heart racing as he took a key from the pocket of his trousers and locked the doors. He then took one of the withering candles from a sconce and lit a few of the lanterns about the room to illuminate them both. He turned to her finally, dropping the key into is left pocket. He was tall, as she had imagined from the expanse of the bed which he consumed. He was broad at the shoulder and narrow at the hip, but with the slight protrusion of the belly common among men of comfortable means. The dark gold of his head also dusted his torso and arms, and bedecked his face in a neatly trimmed Van Dyke fashion. He was neither old nor young, but it is hard to tell the age of a man when freshly woken. He narrowed sky-colored eyes at her as he made his way leisurely to the other side of the desk, but the look was somewhat diminished by the disheveled state of his hair.

He took a seat in a leather-backed swivel chair and produced a sheaf of paper and a pen from a drawer to his right. The desk was otherwise clear of clutter, save for a capped inkwell, a tin of tobacco, and an oil lamp with a small flame flickering occasionally behind the glass. He uncapped the inkwell and dipped his pen a few times before casting her a brief glance.

"Your name, Miss?" He said.

A nervous laugh escaped her. "Why would I tell you that?"

He looked up at her and arched an imperious brow. "Miss, I will remind you that you are currently locked in a room with me. I've a good foot on you and easily a few stone. My questions will be answered. How I attain those answers is singularly up to you. Now, your name, if you would be so kind. First and last."

"Diebin Kraus," she bit out with a frustrated snort.

He gave her a hard stare. "That is not your name."

Diebin bristled, returning his gaze with an indignant glare. "It's my name. Who are you to say otherwise?"

"I do not believe for an instant that your parents named you 'thief'."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Perhaps they did. Perhaps they didn't. You're welcome to sod off across the country to the cemetery they happen to be buried in and ask 'em, but I very much doubt you'll get a satisfactory answer."

He lifted his brow again and jotted something down on his paper.

"What are you doing?"

"Making a note," he said absently. "All right then, Miss Kraus, please produce everything you have purloined from my house."

Diebin tightened her grip around herself and remained defiantly silent.

He huffed a short sigh and scribbled another note on his paper. "Miss Kraus, I might always forcibly strip you and search your clothing in any case. It would behoove you to comply."

Diebin huffed and started plucking the treasures from her pockets: a handful of gold coins, a silver pocket watch with pearl settings, a few pieces of silver cutlery, and, reluctantly, the gold signet ring. She laid them before him on the desk and watched as he recorded each item on a piece of paper separate from his "notes."

"Come now with the rest of it. That's not all that was in your pockets," he said, gesturing with his hand.

Diebin plopped back onto the couch, crossing her arms again. "You only requested the things which I had taken from your house. You're not my first stop tonight."

He lifted both brows at that. "No, but I am your last. My name is Coleman Raycraft. I am a professor of history at the Barryman Institute, the second son of a minor lord. I find myself desirous, if not so much of need, of a servant. Thus far, I have not been able to justify the expense of a staff given my relatively modest accommodations, but since there would be no need to pay you..." He trailed off, appraising her silently. "I shall offer you two options for how we might handle this incident. I can summon the authorities and give an account of the items you have both stolen and attempted to steal from me, and given that you have already admitted that you have additional evidence of your thievery on your person, I very much doubt that would go well for you."

He sat the pen down. "Your other choice is to bind yourself to this house and to the whims of myself. You will perform whatever duties I see fit to assign you, suffer whatever disciplines you might incur in the failure of such. Essentially, you will be the property of this estate and of myself."

Diebin narrowed her eyes. "For how long?"

Coleman Raycraft chuckled, a low, almost seductive sound. "My dear little bird, you aren't exactly in the position to be attempting negotiations."

"And what makes you a better choice than prison?"

He pondered her carefully, stroking his short beard between his thumb and forefinger. "My dear, I could regale you with the fates of women in prisons historically speaking, but I think you already know that pretty little birds like you do not fare well in such conditions. That is to say, if they do not decide to hang you, which, given your history and aptitude for your...craft, is a very likely outcome."

Diebin slumped in her seat. He was right. They would likely hang her. That might be the most merciful option of those available to her.  If she were honest with herself, she didn't want to die. She didn't want to go to prison either, but she also didn't know what she was agreeing to with this Professor Raycraft. But what choice did she have?

She sighed, resignation heavy in her chest. "All right."

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

Wednesday, November 30, 2016

Thief in the Night: Part 1: Curiosity

Diebin was by all accounts an exquisite thief. She could slink silently through a house in the dead of night, sneaking small treasures into her copious pockets before slipping out like a phantom in a dream. In theory, a perfect pilferer in most regards. Her ability to spot the shimmer of precious metals or the flicker of gems in dim candlelight was unparalleled. Her one flaw, perhaps, was her curiosity. She liked to see the faces of those from whom she stole. Sometimes, if she found the owner of a jewel particularly intriguing, rather than sell the piece, she might keep it as a token memory.

She frowned as she held the large signet ring up to the flame of a dying candle. It was gold, dark with age but still possessed of that familiar glimmer. Wide and masculine, the seal was comprised of castle spires and two scrolls crossed in the center. The tallest spire in the center of the seal was capped with a small diamond, sparkling with brilliant clarity. It was a fascinating seal. She'd not seen another like it. She wondered at the man who possessed it.

Dropping the ring into her breast pocket, Diebin crept up the stairs, which were lined with cases filled with books. The crackle of the fire in the hearth that could be barely heard throughout the otherwise silent house grew louder as she drew nearer to its source.  The soft rumble of snoring distinguished itself above the crackling wood. Her eyes fell upon the slumbering man lying on his belly in a rather modest bed.

He spanned the length of bed, which was wide enough for two, but not as grand as she might have otherwise imagined. The vague silhouette of his feet could be seen beneath the furs that covered him almost touching the cherry wood foot board. The furs had fallen away from him revealing broad shoulders blanketed in freckles. Diebin drew closer. Dark gold hair lay in disarray about his head he slept. He looked peaceful, lying there. She couldn't make out much of his face, shrouded in the shadows cast by the fire, half hidden by the pillow he clutched in seemingly strong arms.

She reached out and tentatively touched the smooth expanse of his back. It was surprisingly cool to the touch. He thankfully did not stir. Yes, she would keep the ring. A glint of metal caught her eye. She looked to a display cabinet near a curtained window. The doors were mostly glass and behind it, she could see a number of beautiful things within.

She sneaked to the cabinet and carefully opened the doors. A collection of ornate tobacco pipes filled the shelves. Some were of intricately carved wood, others cast of metals polished to a high sheen. Some were even made of colored glass or had ivory carvings on the bowls. They would certainly fetch a good price.

As she reached for a silvery pipe, hot breath fell upon her ear.

"Ah, ah, ah. I wouldn't touch that if I were you."

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

Saturday, November 26, 2016

Holiday Treats

Playing around with digital art. This is a collaboration between Daddy and I. Since this is the beginning of the holiday season, I figured I'd start it off with a bang.

Sinful Sunday

Thursday, November 24, 2016

The Little Things

Siggy, my kitten
About a year and a half ago I first mentioned my conflict with the label of "little" in The Word "Daddy". My relationship with the term has changed somewhat, having begun a relationship with an actual daddy dom rather than a dom I simply called Daddy, although I can't say that it's become less confusing for me. In the past two months, I've had two labels added to my rather formidable list of identifications by this man: little and kitty. I can't say kitty is terribly surprising. I mean, I'm a cat lady. But the other...the other I still struggle with.

He constantly tells me I'm a little. After examining the evidence, I can't disagree, but it's still a murky place for me. There's still a part of me that wants to wrinkle my nose at the idea of it. So many of the stereotypical aspects are distasteful to me. I have no desire to wear little girl dresses (not that I could fit into one...). Baby talk annoys the ever loving shit out of me, particularly in written form. The whole whiny spoiled brat thing bothers me (mind you, I'm not talking about the BDSM definition of brat which I have addressed multiple times in the past).

I don't really have a concrete idea of what a little is anymore than I did last year. I have never dared to attach the label to myself due to the stigma attached to the more annoying traits. I also don't regress like so many littles seem to do. I don't have a "little space" or a "middle space." Whatever part of me is a little is always a part of me.

I find that the longer I am with him, the more prominent that aspect becomes. I can't tell yet if the little part is manifesting itself because I'm finally with someone who recognizes it and appreciates or because I know it's something that he enjoys. I've always been naturally inclined to magnify certain behaviors in order to be more pleasing. So, at this point I don't know if it's coming from me or coming out for him.

I often play the "why" game now, in which I will respond to a series of things with "why/because why/etc." until he starts repeating himself or starts laughing. I told him recently that "this" was his fault, but I don't think he really understood what I meant.

I express it constantly around him, but there's still that hint of hesitation or discomfort in the back of my brain. I'm not completely comfortable with the idea yet. I can't see myself doing "little" things in public, even at parties. I'm not going to carry a stuffy around, or sit around coloring with others, although I do enjoy coloring. I'll watch animated movies with others, because who doesn't love a good cartoon?

I imagine part of it is some subconscious awareness of the significant age difference between us. I brought up in The Word "Daddy" that I was self-conscious about being mistaken for my ex's daughter. I'd say that concern would be more legitimate now. It's also just self-consciousness in general about how I'm perceived.

Yep, my disorder hasn't gone anywhere. I'm still pretty keen about not feeling like a weirdo in public. Sure, I can get away with a lot based on my appearance and being female. Sexism is alive and well, ladies and gents, particularly in the Southern U.S. I will still make the argument that women are expected to retain certain youthful traits into adulthood that are considered less acceptable or generally unacceptable in men.

I'm still contemplating this new label. I'm sure as I ponder, I'll post more about it here. I still default to owner in non-DD/lg forums and dom in public. I still think about stuff like that. 'Cause I'm still neurotic as fuck.

Tuesday, November 22, 2016

e[Lust] #88

Photo courtesy of Miss Scarlet Writes

Welcome to Elust 88-

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you're looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it'll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #89 Start with the rules, come back December 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Heart stabbing

Redemption: The Sex Goddess Project


~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

An Open Letter To That Cunnilingus Post

I Found Myself Over His Knee

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Writing Sex Scenes With Less Cissexism, Pt 1

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Erotic Fiction

The Haunting of Iris Day
MERMAID??? Wicked Wednesday #229
Fear, Scents and Sounds
Lady Amore
love is love
Her Struggle
The New Principal

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Evolving Landscapes
Trust in Me
15 BEST Things About Giving Blowjobs!
With a rebel yell
What lie do you need to hear so we can Fuck?

Erotic Non-Fiction

The Brush
Tasked with asking for what I need
How Old Is Too Old For Wild Lovemaking?
Brass In Pocket
An Unstated Predicament
California Cuisine
Krystal's First Pegging

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

That Adult Bookstore Just Outside Town
Creature of the night
MISTRESS IN A DRESS - or out of it
Come Here. I want to Taste You
Terror of the cane! How to make caning sexy

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

11 Signs You Might Be a Side Guy

Writing About Writing

Writing Sex Scenes With Less Cissexism, Pt 1

ELust Site Badge

Sunday, November 20, 2016

Briar Rose

Photo by Daddy, Editing by me

"Then round about that place there grew a hedge of thorns thicker every year, until at last the whole castle was hidden from view, and nothing could be seen but the vane on the roof. And a rumor went abroad in all that country of the beautiful sleeping Rosamond, for so was the Princess called: And from time to time many Kings' sons came and tried to force their way through the hedge; but it was impossible for them to do so, for the thorns held fast together like strong hands and the young men were caught by them, and not being able to get free, there died a miserable death..."
" the hundred years were at an end, and the day had come when Rosamond should be awakened. When the Prince drew near the hedge of thorns, it was changed to a hedge of beautiful large flowers, which parted and bent aside to let him pass, and then closed behind him in a thick hedge..."   
"...he mounted higher, and all was so quiet that he could hear his own breathing; and at last he came to the tower, and went up the winding stair, and opened the door of the little room where Rosamond lay.
 And when he saw her looking so lovely in her sleep, he could not turn away his eyes; and presently he stooped and kissed her, and she awaked..." -- "The Sleeping Beauty" - The Brothers Grimm from Grimm's Complete Fairy Tales (p. 671-673)
Sinful Sunday

Friday, November 18, 2016

Monday, November 14, 2016


I assumed my drought of inspiration these past several months came from being alone. Not much to draw from an endless parade of inane messages and two failed dates, really. But now that I've been in a new relationship for about 7 weeks, I still find it difficult to put words down. I find it difficult to write about him or us, and I'm not sure why. I should have a font of material. This is by far the most engaged relationship I've ever been in.

Perhaps that's it. I've never been this entangled with a man before. As you know, if you've been following me for a while, my previous owner did not ask much of me. The lack of physical contact left me with a lot of time for contemplation. The whole of relationship was mental, so I could spend countless hours navel gazing and cranking out page after page of BDSM rhetoric.

Here there is no distance to sit around and contemplate. I'm either with him or anticipating being with him. I spend the week trying to complete the list of weekly tasks I've been given. Sometimes I manage it. Sometimes things pop up and I can't, and then I kind of panic. I wouldn't say that is caused by fear of his reaction, but that I have OCD and I hate when things don't go as planned. I'm either with him, talking to him, or doing things for him and that doesn't leave a ton of room for general theorizing.

As I said in my previous piece, he's pretty damned enthralling. I tend to get wrapped up in my owners, but not to this degree. But then, I've spent more time with this man than either of my previous two partners and it hasn't even been two months.

It's strangely perfect. Everything fits together rather nicely. I can't pick out a single thing that bothers me.

I've never really done a ton of negotiating. I attribute that mostly to my default slave mode. I can't say we've done a ton of it here either. We've just naturally fallen into the M/s category, some flavor of TPE. At least, as much as you can this early in the relationship whilst living apart.

If I stay with him, he cooks for me. If he stays with me, he decides whether I am permitted to cook for him or if we will go out. In either case, he decides where and when we go somewhere. He drives. Always. He opens all the doors. Always. At restaurants, he decides either what we eat or if I am allowed to order for myself. He often decides what I will wear, as well, if I get to wear anything at all. He decides if we play, how we play, when it starts, when it stops.

He takes my physical limitations and emotional states into consideration, of course. He is a Daddy, after all. He tells me he's a Daddy, not a Master, but I think he sells himself short on that front. They aren't mutually exclusive and he fits into both categories nicely in my opinion.

He told me the first weekend we spent together that regardless, he will get his way. I think that's probably one of the hottest things a man has ever said to me.

I find it difficult to write about him, about us. Not only because I know he will read it, but because I find it damn near impossible to untangle my thoughts. He literally breaks my brain.

Monday, October 31, 2016


A shot captured while complying with some orders from my new Daddy.
Sinful Sunday

Wednesday, October 26, 2016

Trust in Me

He is Kaa. He speaks, and I feel myself slipping. He looks into my eyes and I am lost. Silence echoes in the eternity during which our eyes are locked. Sometimes I feel like I should say something, like these seemingly endless gazes should be strange. But he just continues smiling softly down at me, and I continue to stare, entranced.

Is this what it is to be hypnotized? I wonder, sometimes, when I'm tumbling into this blue depths, marking the myriad freckles dusting his cheeks, or counting the silver and gold shimmering in his beard. It's a bit frightening to be so enthralled.

Then he chuckles and points out how my pupils have all but swallowed the blue surrounding them. This pleases him. He said if I actually got high, it would probably just make them shrink back to normal size.

I've never taken any recreational drug aside from alcohol. I've had the occasional opiate, but only when prescribed by a doctor. My addictions tend to walk...or swagger, speak in low timbres, and stare with an intensity that bleeds its way into your gut and pulls at places you didn't know existed.

He misses nothing, which is both hot and potentially annoying. He comments on something when it seems he hasn't been looking at me. Sometimes he says things without looking at me at all. He says he's always one step ahead. That could get frustrating.

I am possessed. New elements are clawing their way out of my personality. Are they me? Were they always me? Or am I simply responding to pieces of him?

It's interesting that this image should come to me. I created a character in my novel named for a sweet serpent, a blond haired, blue eyed man, tall and freckled. While that character has since morphed into something less appetizing than his original incarnation, the similarities are not lost on me.


He has called me Kavee, a Persian word meaning "curiosity."

If I am Kavee, he is Kaa.

Trust in me, just in me
Shut your eyes and trust in me
You can sleep safe and sound
Knowing I am around

Slip into silent slumber
Sailing on a silver mist
Slowly and surely your senses
Will cease to resist

Trust in me, just in me
Shut your eyes and trust in me

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

Thursday, July 21, 2016

e[Lust] #84

Elust 84 header
Photo courtesy of A to sub-Bee

Welcome to Elust #84 -

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you're looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it'll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #85 Start with the rules, come back August 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

About Those "Apple Thighs"
Why the Hell Haven't I Rebelled Yet?

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

IDENTITY – hiding the evidence
friday flash--service

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Good In Bed

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Erotic Fiction

Pubic Disturbance
Colds and Lust
Sex Machine
A Dirty Bathroom Floor
I'm Sorry I'm So Silent
S’il Vous PlaĆ®t
Edge of Morning
Dancin’ (Most) of the Night Away
Airport Arrivals

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

42 Kinds of Casual Sex
Living in Fear – An Essay on Male Entitlement

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

How To Give A Bare Handed Spanking
Reconciling dominance and love
She's a Very Kinky Gor

Body Talk and Sexual Health

Run the good race

Erotic Non-Fiction

We Made A Resolution To Make Love Everyday
The 20 Minute Orgasm
More on cunt, corridors & Schroedinger's cock
Stoned Birthday Sex
Room with a View
I’m Not Done With Your Throat Yet
It's a strange path to trust.

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Poly and Pets

Writing about Writing

Why Write Erotic Fiction?
ELust Site Badge

Sunday, July 10, 2016


The girl wore Gorean dancing silk. It hung low upon her bared hips, and fell to her ankles. It was scarlet, diaphanous. A front corner of the silk was taken behind her and thrust, loose and draped, into the rolled silk knotted about her hips; a back corner of the silk was drawn before her and thrust loosely, draped, into the rolled silk of her right hip. Low on her hips, she wore a belt of small denomination, threaded, overlapping gold coins. A veil concealed her muchly from us, it thrust into the strap of the coined halter at her left shoulder, and into the coined belt at her right hip. On her arms she wore numerous armlets and bracelets. On the thumb and first finger of both her left and right hand were golden finger cymbals. On her throat was a collar. - Tribesmen of Gor, p. 8

Sinful Sunday

Thursday, July 7, 2016

She's a Very Kinky Gor

Perhaps one of the most unpopular arguments among online Gorean circles is whether or not there is BDSM in Gor. Most Goreans insist that there isn't. Many insist BDSM is wholly separate from Gor, doesn't exist in the books, and are often openly disdainful or mocking toward practitioners of BDSM. Every time I even so much as mention my opinions on the subject in a Gorean lifestyle group, I get attacked from all sides.

I'll say right now, I'm not Gorean. I don't identify with the Gorean lifestyle. What I am is a bibliophile with degrees in writing and English, and enjoy reading, analyzing, and discussing the Gor novels. They are, to me, among the staple tomes of kinky fiction, regardless of how they are viewed by the community or by their followers. When asked about kink fiction, the top three answers are usually Story of O (which I hate), the Marketplace series, and Gor.

The author, John Norman, supposedly denies the incorporation of BDSM themes in Gor. I've not seen the actual interview where he states this, but Goreans have told me that he has said "If it is not beautiful it is not Gorean. BDSM is not beautiful." Or something to that effect.

I would wager that this is largely a misunderstanding of what BDSM is on the whole. It seems to me that there is a confusion of terms, wherein those who practice Gor and openly ridicule BDSM, seem to think that BDSM is synonymous with S&M and that sadomasochism does not exist within the Gorean library.

I would disagree with this notion, but even separating that pairing from the three pairings that comprise the acronym of BDSM, Gor certainly contains enough elements to be considered BDSM literature. Bondage and discipline abound in the books. Norman might spend more time going on about these things than any other plot element in the book. And the main character, Tarl, goes on endlessly about dominance and submission, albeit in a heteronormative patriarchal fashion.


Physical bondage is a primary element of Gorean slavery. Upon capture, slaves are kept in "slave bracelets" which appear to be a more elaborate version of handcuffs or manacles. Slaves are kept in coffles of rope or chain through their collars or around their necks. At night, they are kept bound hand and foot, or kept in slave pens (cages). There's even a special ankle cuff attached to the Master's couch to which the slave is tethered when being "used in the furs." Gor, frankly, is a bondage lover's dream with all the chains and bindings going on with these hapless, buxom slaves.


Discipline is a very prominent element within the various novels. Tarl the Tautological is ever generous with his descriptions of punishments and mentions them several times throughout the course of a single story. We are regaled with the wonders of the five-tailed Gorean slave whip, which, honestly, sounds to me like a flogger with five belt straps for falls, and admittedly sounds really fucking fun. Slaves are constantly being switched by overseeing slaves for punishment or incentive to do whatever task they might have been assigned more enthusiastically (Assassin, Captive, Hunters).

We are treated with scenes of slave girls being punished, or descriptions of potential punishments, such as one where a slave girl is tied to an oar of a ship and left there to be submerged and lifted for hours until she complies or drowns (Marauders). There is a scene where the main character, a slave named Elinor, is punished by being bound and left in a small box for nearly three weeks after being whipped, only seeing the light of day when she is fed (Captive).


It seems that in nearly every book (at least up to Marauders - #9, the one I'm currently reading) Tarl manages to sneak (hamfist) in a pages long lecture about the natural dominance of men and the natural submissiveness of the female and her desire to be overpowered and dominated by a true Master. Even after yielding in the collar, he says slave girls enjoy being forced occasionally, to remind them of their submission and their position as a slave (Marauders).

Some cities even have slave houses, where slaves go under elaborate training where they learn how to serve, obey, learn protocols, proper positions, dances, and other services under the instruction of a well-trained slave.

There are protocols to follow, regarding forms of address. A slave is required to address all Free Persons as Master or Mistress or whatever equivalents there might be within other cultures of Gor, such as "my Jarl" or "lady" in the North.

All slaves are collared as a sign of their slavery. Might we not attribute some of the popularity of the collar in regards to BDSM to the prevalence of them within the Gor novels? One of the most popular styles of collar in either BDSM or Gorean circles is that crafted by Vad Farkas of Ring of Steel, which is a Turian collar first mentioned in Nomads of Gor.

Slaves are branded to mark their slavery. A fairly horrific act of domination, yes, but not something we are unfamiliar with in BDSM, although we generally don't accomplish branding with hot branding irons.

Slaves serve in numerous ways, both domestic and sexual. A phrase within the books that indicates is a slave serves both as pleasure and in menial duties is known as "kettle and mat." Domestic and sexual service are often tenets of a power exchange arrangement.


No, the dividing issue regarding BDSM's presence in the Gorean literature seems to be the presence of sadism and masochism, two elements which many Goreans vehemently deny the existence of in their chosen philosophies.

Well, Horatio, there are more things in Heaven and Gor than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

I would wager sadism abounds among Gorean men and women, both slave and free. Masters revel in the degradation of a new slave. They enjoy the breaking of a new slave, in bringing her to heel. They will happily employ their magic penis to awaken the wanton sexuality and love of a newly conquered kajira. They even play games of sport that involve the punishment of kajirae.

I once brought up a scene in Captive of Gor wherein Elinor and a few other slave girls were given to the service of a few guards of the slave caravan for an evening. One of their entertainments was chasing the girls with their sword belts in hand, laying stinging blows on the laughing girls as they ran. They play another game, where the girls are bound, kneeling, whilst the guards toss morsels of meat at them to catch. This is one of the most glaring examples of S&M within the Gor novels, but when I tried to assert this, I was informed that no, they didn't do it for pleasure. It was to benefit the slaves.

Bosk shit.

One of the principle features of a Gorean Master is that they do what they please with their property. They derive pleasure from their property. Why would a Master do something he finds displeasing to benefit property he regards on the same level as an animal, a beast? Also, why is it, that there must only be one motivation for a thing? Can a Master not do something that he both finds pleasurable and beneficial to the training of a slave? Does he not find pleasure in an act simply because you insist they don't have sadism? I found the argument fairly preposterous, to be honest.

As to masochism, I believe that to be more subtly described. Sure, we don't see women begging for sexy spankings or floggings, or things like that, but kajirae, on the whole, seem well-pleased with their slavery. They vie for the attentions of their masters. They relish their games and strive to please. And, going back, to the example of force from Marauders, they wish to be physically dominated. Olga, a slave in Ivar Forkbeard's camp, begs Tarl to force her to his furs.

"Deep in the belly, too, of every female is a desire, more ancient than the caves, to be forced to yield to the ruthless domination of a magnificent uncompromising male, a master; deep within them they all wish to submit, vulnerably and completely, nude to such a beast." - Marauders of Gor, p. 136

 So, are Gor and BDSM two incompatible entities? Not to my estimation. Many, if not most, Goreans will disagree with me, but I believe Gor is abundant in its BDSM elements. Hell, that's part of the reason I find the series so intriguing. It's the type of kinky fantasy I want to read. I believe the Gor novels, regardless of how you feel about the quality of writing, deserves a place among the cultural works of BDSM alongside the likes of Story of O and the Marketplace series.

Whether we like it or not, Gor has had its influence on BDSM, and sometimes there needs to be a non-Leather option for kinky story time. But, perhaps I'm biased.

What think you?

Sunday, July 3, 2016

Collarfails #2 - Musical Rejection

My name is no. My sign is no. My number is no.

No, I don't want your number. No, I don't wanna give you mine.

Blah blah blah.
Think you'll be gettin' this
Nah nah nah
Not in the back of my
Car car car
If you keep talkin that
Blah blah blah blah blah

Ask me for my number, yeah you put me on the spot
You think that we should hook-up, but I think that we should not
You had me at hello, then you opened up your mouth
And that is when it started going south

Sunday, June 12, 2016

A Little Tease

I've been focusing a lot on dance training lately, so I figured I'd play around with some of my newer costume pieces for you.

Sinful Sunday

Friday, June 10, 2016

Collarfails #1: My Milkshake Brings all the Serial Killers to the Yard

As promised, I present you with some of the fail messages from this week on Collarspace. I'd say it's been a successful week as no one has messaged me to tell me I'm fat. Woohoo!

Okay? Why are you asking me? Also your profile says you're 23. He subsequently asked if I had kik or Skype. When I said no, he asked if I had unlimited text. I told him I wasn't giving him my phone number. I'm cool with prefabricated children, but this baby factory is closed for business. Also, not a cow, bro. 

*barfs* Also, how am I a gold digging bitch?

*Instablock* All of my no. All of it. Plus some of yours.

Tuesday, June 7, 2016

Health and Dating Bullshit

I've been officially single for a month now, and I'll tell you right now, online dating is the worst. Collarspace remains the cesspit of the BDSM dating scene. I've already been told I'm untwue and been offered to be swept off to Finland for the slave life of my dreams. OkCupid isn't proving any more fruitful. It's full of guilt trips, sexual solicitations, and red herrings. I've discovered, however, that I'm apparently more attractive than I think. I just wish men would read a bit better.

On a positive note, for you guys, I'm going to start posting my fail messages for your viewing enjoyment. Collarspace is known for its gems and it's only fair that I share them with you. 

I realize I've been neglectful of late. I'm getting the depression stuff under a bit better control, but I've been concentrating heavily on improving my health. My lipid levels dropped, but not enough, so I'm doing my best to bring it down naturally without the help of medication. I'm also attempting to build core strength to be able to do a belly dance workshop in October with the fabulous Ruby Beh on floor work. 

I've met my primary weight goal, so now it's time to move to the next stage. I've lost about 35 lbs and am shooting to lose 40 more. I'll see how I feel then, but right now, that's my end goal. To help me along with this, I've taken up Pilates and bought myself a Fitbit. I was doing pretty well just calculating on my own, but I really like the calorie calculation on this thing, as it feels more accurate than the standardized numbers on MyFitnessPal. I can sync it with MFP as well, so I no longer have to manually log exercises there. 

I've also started a fitness group on Fetlife to help with motivation and such. If you're interested in joining, I'd welcome any new members. It's woefully small right now. 

I really hate looking for a partner. Searching is exhausting and so disappointing most of the time, but I have to have faith that the right one is out there for me. Maybe God just wants me to improve myself a little bit first. I'm trying to make better choices, and not make bad decisions in the dating arena. 

I think I'll post my collarfails on Fridays. Stay tuned for that!

Also, I planted potatoes! Send my potato babies good thoughts!

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