Monday, February 29, 2016

Starting from the Bottom?

I've written before on how being a dominant is not a job promotion and how it is unnecessary to be a sub or bottom before being a dom or top, but the topic recently came up again on FetLife. This one guy just couldn't take "yeah, it's helpful for some people but not for everyone."

This is not an idea I support. I don't think a dominant has to experience the other side any more than a submissive has to experience being dominant to be a good submissive. I think it's silly to expect the dominant to go through this process but not require the same of the submissive.

Now, I'm not saying that either party can't benefit from such an experience. Some people do. But others don't, and I don't think it's a good idea to make people think it's necessary to do something against their nature when it's really not.

I have never dominated, but I do consider myself a decent top when it comes to play. I have been both a bottom and a top and my experience as a bottom does inform my technique as a top. I think that I have a better understanding perhaps of how to please a bottom simply because I know what I personally enjoy. In this case, experiencing both sides is helpful to me. However, that is only because I actually enjoy being a bottom. I am a masochist. If I were not a masochist, I would not reap the same benefit from bottoming because I wouldn't enjoy it.

I don't think experiencing something you hate is remotely beneficial to learning how to perform it. I don't expect any tops I teach to let me top them first, especially if they are not masochists at all. I don't find that helpful. It would just upset the student. I do, however, let them practice on me, because I can then guide them from the proper perspective.

Peach is not a masochist at all. Pain makes her angry. Trying to have her bottom to the type of play I teach would probably just trigger her in a bad way. What I did do is make sure her first solo session was with me, so I could give her the perspective of the bottom that she would never have trying to bottom herself. She would gain no pleasure from the pain and thus have no frame of reference for judgement.

I hate it when people in the community try to say starting from the bottom is required or essential to being a good d-type, because it's not. I've met good doms who have subbed, I've met horrible doms who've subbed. I've met great doms who have never submitted a day in their life. It's a mixed bag.

The person who initiated this conversation on Fet said he felt that he should be willing to do anything he asks a submissive to do. I find this unrealistic and I said so.

I don't expect Daddy to do things he hates just because he wants them of me. I don't think the experience would improve his administration of them. One example I used was, I don't expect him to receive anal sex in order to give it well. The guy who wouldn't let it go took issue with my example and said you can still learn something from taking it up the ass. I'm sorry, but I don't see how him doing something he would find unpleasant would make the act any more pleasant for me.

Also, I can say from experience, receiving anal sex has taught me exactly nothing about giving it. I'd be completely freaked out by the idea of pegging anyone.

The thing is, certain experiences can be helpful for some people. They can be detrimental to others. Demanding that everyone learn the same way does more harm than good in the end. If it's something you want to do for yourself, then great. If you don't, don't think it's required for legitimacy. It's not.

Wednesday, February 24, 2016

Still Alive

Well, it's been a bit since I've posted anything of substance. I was doing so well with three updates a week, and I feel bad about not posting Unmasked updates. I really enjoy writing that series and I am kind of frustrated that I haven't really written any of it lately.

The thing is, I've kind of face-planted into the depression stage of grief where I kind of don't want to do anything besides sleep. I hurt physically and I can't tell if it's medical or mental. My doctor thinks it's the anxiety, so I've started Lexapro, and I'm limping along with Ativan to tide me over til the other starts working.

I'm being confronted with the need for dietary changes due to less than stellar blood work. I wonder if that has anything to do with my physical discomfort. However, even if I do change things, I have a genetic predisposition for this sort of thing, so I still might need even more medication. And, of course, there's always the part of my mind that's still afraid there's something wrong beyond the grief and the OCD I deal with on a regular basis.

On a positive note, I'm 10lbs away from my first weight loss goal. I've finally hit the 25 mark. I'm rather proud of this, even if the last 3 pounds were lost in a single week while I was sleeping on borrowed Ativan just to calm down enough to rest.

My cat was rather butthurt when I came home three days later.

I know many of you aren't religious, but I like to think I am. I'm not terribly good at it, but I'm attempting to improve that. At the very least, I've taken on the task of some independent religious study. One of my dad's final wishes was that I get back into the church. I don't know that the church I was baptized into feels like my home anymore, so this is my compromise for now. I have felt this conviction for a little while now, and I hope that along with knowledge, it brings me a bit of peace.

I go back to the doctor in about 6 weeks to see how I'm doing with the new medications. I hope to lose another 10 pounds by the time that appointment rolls around. I'm hoping the further weight loss will help with the blood issue as well.

I have a few days off this weekend. I'm supposed to go to the dungeon with Foxy, but I also hope to get a little bit of writing done. I'm sorry to any regular readers I might have that I haven't gotten anything out besides a picture or two. The last few weeks, it's been an effort to do much of anything besides sleep, cry, or panic. And I worry about my mom, who is down here in the hole with me, but doesn't seem terribly interested in climbing back out.

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

e[Lust] #79

Elust 79 header
Photo courtesy of Marie Opens Up

Welcome to Elust #79 -

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 #80? Start with the rules, come back March 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

The Joy of Sucking Cock

Making Porn

My Valentine

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

The One

Midweek Fantasizing – The Portrait

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*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 Sex & Relationships

A kiss is just a kiss
Turning Corners
Another Day, Another Planned Parenthood Visit
My first vanilla date
Want, Need the Power of your Masculinity!
I don't know how to date.

Erotic Fiction

Soft Lips
The Introduction
Erotic Fiction: "Words"
Darkness and the Rose
Be Careful What You Wish For
The Tube

Erotic Non-Fiction

For You, It's Always Yes
Gawan: Intro to Flogging
The Talker: An Introduction
My wildest fantasy: Ship slut
Time for something quick...
Spread Legs and Open Mouth
My Girl in Havana
Let's Watch some Porn

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

An Artist’s Story: Tails and Portholes
Sleeping With Our Future President
To Dude Who Was Offended By Lack of Escort
Try Love, Not Anger
Risky Sex
Why Cosmo is the worst (again!)

Writing about Writing

Condoms: fictional contraceptive of choice
Writing Fat Characters In Erotica

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Masochistic Mastermind
Take me to where I need to be.

ELust Site Badge

Sunday, February 14, 2016

Old Loves

I confess, you are not my first love. I have loved many. A thousand loves in a thousand lands over a thousand lifetimes dreamed by a thousand others. I may not remember all their names, but I can tell you a story or two.

Sinful Sunday

Wednesday, February 10, 2016

No Take Backsies: Sexual "Politeness"

It occurred to me while I was responding to a comment on a post about kissing that I have an unfortunate quality that is not entirely beneficial to my well-being. For whatever you might say about my peculiar vanilla manners (I am excessively awkward due to my anxiety disorder), I seem to be unfailingly polite when it comes to sexual liberties. The thing is, I am very bad at the word no. I can shut things down if I do a preemptive strike, but once I get past a certain point in proceedings, I feel like it would be rude to refuse or suddenly stop whatever is happening. Strange, isn't it?

I read posts about how consent should be enthusiastic, and how you can say no in the middle of an encounter if you don't like it, but I've never really felt that way. I've never relied on explicit consent. I figure, if I don't say no, then it's on me. Instead of if it's not a yes, it's a no, I operate more around if it's not a no, it's an okay whatever. Once I've given consent, or at least not explicitly denied it, I would feel bad about revoking it in the middle.

I realize this is bad. I'm not sure how I acquired this particular quirk. I don't know if it's a result of having a largely submissive personality or perhaps a result of my disorder. I don't like to upset people and I read too much into body language and tone. Because of this, I have allowed things to happen that I wasn't really okay with, but I didn't want to make the other person feel bad.

I mentioned Lizard Guy in A Handful of Kisses. I didn't really want to kiss him, and I certainly didn't want to continue after he turned out to be damned awful at it, but I couldn't make myself shove him away. Because that would be rude, right? I didn't want to have that almost-threesome with my ex and one of my play partners, but I'd teased him about it as a joke, so I suppose I felt obligated. There was one day shortly after our first Christmas together where we spent the day together and had sex. I didn't enjoy it. I was more bored than anything, which made no sense to me, because I thought it should at least hurt since it was only the second time. But I couldn't express my confusion or ask the questions I needed to ask, because it most certainly would have upset him.

I let a play partner top me when I didn't want to. We were dabbling in platonic power exchange at the time and when I said I didn't really want to, her dom said something about "service subbing" so I did it anyway. I just got angrier and angrier every time she hit me, but I didn't say no.

I'm just not good at no. I see it even in my everyday encounters. I am the queen of noncommittal answers. If someone asks my opinion, I might equivocate rather than be truthful to avoid hurt feelings. If someone asks me if I want to do something, and the answer is no, whatever I say won't be enthusiastic, but I almost never flat out say no. I think this is why I find Daddy's habit of not saying no to me so frustrating. I can't say no, so I need him to do it for me. I think if he knew just how permissive I really am, he wouldn't be so set on this "steering" technique he's got going.

I really do wish I were more assertive. I wish I weren't so permissive for the sake of politeness. It's not a terribly healthy habit. It's a wonder I haven't gotten myself into even more unpleasant situations.

Thinking of all of this, it begs the question. Can you violate your own consent? I'm not quite sure how it would work, but if you can, I would say I've done it. But then, I suppose we all do that at some point.

Monday, February 8, 2016

Unmasked: Part 16: Bad Advice

Conna stared at the bowl of grapes in her hands. She could have sworn that Kirsa had been holding them before. How did she end up with them? Kirsa vaulted onto a nearby wood pile to take a seat, draping herself over the logs with an easy grace, white hair swishing about her waist. Reaching out, she plucked a grape from the bowl and popped it in her mouth.

"You know, they really aren't so snarly once you get to know them."

Conna spared a look towards the tavern, a sturdy wooden structure with a steeply sloped roof to cast off rainwater. "Somehow I doubt that."

Kirsa smiled. "Trust me in this. Like you, I was a stranger here once, and not of my own choosing. I know what you're dealing with."

Conna blushed. "I don't think..."

"Brunhild and Rodrick are twins. They not only look alike, but they have very similar tastes in...certain areas."

Conna's blush deepened.

"It's not that unusual, really. I don't know what your kind are like, but alpha wolves tend to be rather domineering lovers. It was no different in my birth pack." She leaned in, hiding her words from all but Conna with her hand. "Horribly unfair laws too."

"What do you mean?"

She leaned back. "Well, men and alphas are subject to the typical penalties for breaking laws; flogging, combat, servitude. We women--those of us who aren't like Brunhild, that is--are apparently to fragile for such things. I've never met a fragile wolf in my life, but what can you do? Anyway, we are subject to the discipline of the alpha in our household. In your case, that would be Rodrick. Mine," she pursed her lips and looked sideways at the tavern, "is Brunhild. Of course, that's only to a certain point. Major crimes are handled by the Council." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "You might be an exception since you belong to Rodrick, but aren't pack."

"What does that mean? Not being pack?"

Kirsa looked off, thinking. "It has its benefits and disadvantages, I suppose. You aren't wholly subject to our laws, but, then, belonging to Rodrick, you have to deal with what he commands. You have no rank or status, so there is no real reason to challenge you. But you have no rank, so you are pretty much dependent on Rodrick for everything."

Conna looked around, nervously eyeing the women milling around the square. "Reiner said there would be women who might challenge me. Like his sister."

Kirsa wrinkled her nose. "Gunda? I can't imagine why. I mean, she's been trying to crawl into bed with Rodrick for years, but even without you, that would still never happen. As Brunhild so often tells me, the alpha needs an obedient mate with self-control. Gunda is neither of those things." She sat up straighter. "And now that I say that, perhaps there is something to worry about there."

Conna slumped with a frown.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry overmuch. Rodrick would never let anything happen to you."

Conna stuffed a grape in her mouth. No, he would just do things to her himself. She frowned at the tavern door.

Kirsa followed her gaze. "Look, I know being here among us must be terrifying, but I can assure you that Rodrick will do anything in his power to keep you from true harm."

Conna snapped back around, narrowing her eyes. "Why would he? What am I to him? He's known me for less than two days. What am I besides a piece of property tossed unceremoniously in his lap to be used?"

Kirsa had pulled back, surprise on her face. Her eyes fell slowly to Conna's shoulder. Brunhild had seemed rather preoccupied with that particular body part as well. Conna looked down at the offending shoulder, wondering if it might be dirty or something. A perfect impression of Rodrick's teeth was scabbing over on her skin. Her eyes widened. How had she not noticed that before? She poked at it with a finger. There was no soreness despite the clear presence of a wound. She looked back to Kirsa, finally seeing the set of small pink scars on her own right shoulder that fell in a similar pattern to Conna's scabs.

"What are these?"

Kirsa cast another sidelong glance at the tavern. "It's a mark of ownership. It tells everyone that you belong to him, and that it would be...unwise to molest you. Beyond that, you'll have to ask Rodrick."

Conna expelled a frustrated breath. "Why can't you tell me? You obviously know."

"Of course, I know, but that's something that should come from him." She leaned forward again, gripping the edge of the logs between her gently swinging legs. "Do you want my advice? It's terrible advice, mind you."

What could it hurt? Conna nodded.

"You came here unwillingly, right? And I will assume that Rodrick is very much like his sister and didn't even offer a choice?"


"Then make him work for it. There is no reason he should get willing obedient flesh without any effort on his part. Fight back."

Conna winced, remembering her first attempts at resistance. "I don't think that would go well for me."

"Oh no, you'll get whipped...a lot, but you'll feel better about yourself when he finally wins."

"This seems counter productive."

"It's a matter of pride, really. If you're going to surrender, best to go down with your claws out, no?"

Conna couldn't say she was wrong. She had yet to be wholly compliant, despite Rodrick's insistence that it would be easier in the long run. Kirsa couldn't know that, but she seemed to be encouraging her to go a step further. Part of her was afraid of what might result from that, but another part of her was also curious. Two days was not enough to know this man. Perhaps, if she heeded Kirsa's words, she would know exactly what sort of man he was.

"As I said, it's terrible advice, but useful, I think. At any rate, it makes the sex more interesting."

Heat flushed Conna's face.

"If you decide to take my advice, I'm always willing to help. I've spent enough time around Rodrick to know a few of his prickly spots," said Kirsa, flashing a seductively mischievous smile.

Conna laughed nervously. "I will keep that in mind."

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

Saturday, February 6, 2016


Let's pork!

I had kick-ass idea for the A prompt, but it will have to wait until I can get with Kitty later this month so she can shoot them. So, instead you get this pulchritudinous porcine princess I found at an outdoor art gallery. Alas, I found I could not resist her charms and had to capture her on film.

Sinful Sunday

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Masochistic Mastermind

I have always prided myself on my ability to compose a scene. I remember even before I was actively practicing BDSM in real life, I could write the hell of a BDSM sex scene in my role playing days. Perhaps back then they weren't as realistic or well-informed, or possessed elements as varied as I can manage now, but I felt my intimate literacy to be at the very least more creative than most of my role play partners.

I have always been a gifted sexual composer. I'm always composing elaborate kinky operas in my brain when I'm bored, aroused, or both. I remember being disappointed when I was younger in the lack of creativity from the older writers I wrote with. I was also disappointed in my first partner, who built the foundation of my sexual experience on reluctant blow jobs and quickie anal. I was so full of fantasies, but never once was I able to experience something that came close to them.

You might be thinking, well, that makes sense. Real BDSM rarely exists in reality in the same way we paint it in our minds. I understand that. My masturbatory material are comprised of the fantastic. Ridiculous situations that could never exist in reality. Sex slave harems. Demons with spiked phalli. Automated prisons designed for sexual torture. That's not what I'm speaking of. I can paint a realistic, achievable picture just as well as I can dream up the impossible. It's the practical scenarios that I have been disappointed in never seeing.

I draw inspiration from random elements I encounter every day. I see an MMA training kit, and think of all the bondage opportunities that might be had from it. I go to purchase plastic grass for an art piece and test it on myself as a flogger material while walking through the store. Peach told me she had a treadmill, and I went on for quite a while depicting what various tortures one might accomplish with such a thing. Particularly, attaching a pair of nipple clamps to an s-type and the treadmill and playing with the speed. Tying the s-type to the treadmill. Urging the s-type to keep going with calculated flicks of a cane. Or some sadistic combination of all three.

I often tell Peach the wonderful tortures that pop into my head. As a result, she insists that I have to be a sadist. Her evidence is my laughter when someone else is being beaten and my penchant for devising devious delights. I can see the validity in her confusion, especially since she lacks even a drop of masochism.

However, I readily deny her assertion. I'm not a sadist. I derive no pleasure from the infliction of pain. Sure, I have your basic emotional schadenfreude every humans possesses, but physical pain, while sometimes funny, is not arousing to me. I do not come up with these "scenes" for lack of a better term because I want to inflict them on someone else. The creativity stems from the desire to experience them.

I have tried to explain this to her, but lacking the comprehension of the masochistic mindset, it's not something she understands. I don't blame her. I really don't understand sadism. Well, I understand it on an intellectual level. They derive pleasure from the infliction of various forms of pain, but not having the capacity to experience that pleasure, my mind has a hard time understanding it. I find the practice of sadism and dominance to be utterly exhausting, so I fail to comprehend how the other side enjoys it.

As much as I seek to have an aggressor to enact my own creations upon me, in my lack of empathy for sadism, I can often feel selfish for wanting to be acted upon. I am the receiver of the sensations, and, in my need to reciprocate, I worry that the giver isn't getting enough out of it. I can't wrap my head around the sadistic nature or fully see the dominant mind.

And that is even more amusing to me, since I've been spending a lot of time writing from the aggressor's point of view in my recent forays into romantic fiction. Perhaps I understand more than I realize, or perhaps I'm simply projecting through the eyes of the masochist.

Monday, February 1, 2016

Unmasked: Part 15: Pot and Kettle

"Women!" Brunhild said with exasperation as she sank back to the floor.

"You are one too, you know," Rodrick said, grinning.

She took a drink from her tankard. "Not in the same way," she said, turning back to him. "I apologize for Kirsa's behavior. I will ensure that she regrets it."

Rodrick snorted. "I highly doubt she will regret anything, but I know you will exact a price for it just the same."

Brunhild took a bit of quail from a plate a buxom, black-haired wolf placed between them. "I have been too soft with her of late. It's time I took back control."

Rodrick rubbed his face with a sigh. "You never lost it. She is simply more comfortable here now. I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing," he said, taking a bit of quail for himself.

"Uh huh, I see you both believe I couldn't see her making those faces behind me earlier." She lifted a brow.

"If you simply want to ravage her, you don't have to make excuses to me. I almost thrashed mine this morning for the fun of it."

Brunhild sobered instantly, renewed anger darkening her brow. "What do you plan to do with her?"

He shrugged. "I'm going to keep her."

"As a mate."

"Does it matter?"

She slapped the table. "She doesn't know, does she? What you've done. What you've made her without her consent. I saw the fucking mark, Rodrick."

Rodrick leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table. "I know you saw it. You weren't terribly subtle in your noticing, but, as I expressed to her not two days ago, her consent was never necessary. And, frankly, neither is yours."

"This is not how we work!"

"This is exactly how we work. And of all people, you are least equipped to judge my actions in this."

Her eyebrows rose. "Excuse me?"

"I distinctly remember one of my Deltas kidnapped their mate from a neighboring pack, nearly plunging us into war. A woman, I might add, who wasn't particularly keen on being kidnapped at the time. Or is your memory so short?" He gave her a pointed look.

"She consented!" She crossed her arms over her chest.

"After you bit her. Weeks after. So, before you judge my methods of courtship, remember, at the very least, I didn't steal mine. She was given to me to do with as I please, which I fully intend to do. The wolf wants what it wants. We all act on the whims of the beast.  Even you. Especially you. Mine wanted to claim her, so I did. If it would appease you, look at it as a political union." He tore a piece of bread from a nearby loaf and took a bite.

Brunhild threw up her hands. "If you were always going to keep the girl, what is the damn council meeting for anyway?"

"The girl's fate was never in question. We will be discussing the mission and the Kin's proposal. My keeping the girl has no bearing on whether we accept the truce. However..."


"I would, of course, appreciate it if you refrained from expressing your distaste about my decision regarding the girl at the meeting."

Brunhild sat up straighter, taking a slow sip of her mead. "As your sister, I reserve the right to give you shit about whatever I deem appropriate, but you know me better than to think I would question your authority in public." She sat the cup down. "Really, I should be one of your Betas. I'm a much better choice than Jurgen."

"If you want Jurgen's position, you are welcome to challenge him for it. If you win, I'll consider it."

"You say that like you're sure I'll lose."

"Jurgen might be a cocky bastard, but I know how he fights. Personality flaws aside, he is Beta for a reason." Rodrick glanced out the door where he could see Kirsa lounging on a wood pile, speaking excitedly to Constantina. The Kin clutched the bowl of fruit before her as if it was the only thing anchoring her to this world. Kirsa's whispers were low enough that he couldn't pick out the words, but whatever they were had Constantina blushing fiercely.

"What do you think she's telling her?" he said.

Brunhild turned to look.  "Based on what she put me through in the early days? Nothing good. On the upside? You should have sufficient motivation for a thrashing tonight. I know how much that disappoints you."

Rodrick expelled a frustrated breath. "I would like Kirsa to help acclimate her to our ways, but I'd prefer she not make my job more difficult."

Brunhild chuckled. "I will impress that upon her, but I think you know as well as I do that it will be much too late."

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