Saturday, October 21, 2017

Star Talker: Part 17: Morning Ablutions

The other side of the bed was empty when I woke. I was keenly aware of the missing pressure of his arms around my waist. I rolled over and sat up, hissing at the ache in my backside. My movement must have triggered the lights, as a white glow appeared around the perimeter of the ceiling and intensified to mimic the effect of natural light. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, noting the heavy metal cuffs still adorned my wrists. I slid off the bed, even the softness of the sheets scraping against my raw skin.

A small note sat on the beside table next to a cobalt blue ring. The note simply said "Your key" in a surprisingly delicate script. I slipped it on my finger and shuffled off to the corner of the suite where another lavatory appeared to be. It was much smaller than the bathroom from last night, but it was appointed with a toilet and a generously sized shower. I poked around in the cabinets until I found a stack of enormous, plush white towels. I quietly relieved myself and proceeded to figure out the switches that operated the shower. A strong spray erupted from three different shower heads, converging in the center of the stall.

I walked into the spray, moaning with pleasure as the hot water ran over my aching flesh. The water pressure was delightfully strong, almost massaging me from all directions. I pulled a bottle of soap from the shelf of toiletries on the shower wall and proceeded to scrub away the dried sweat and the sticky remnants of the rather intense coupling of the night before. My shoulders were sore from the weight of the chains and from being strung up, but the hot water beating down on me was easing the stiffness in my muscles.

I turned my head, noting the far wall of the shower was a wall length mirror. I rolled my eyes, wondering if the mirror was a result of severe narcissism or simple lechery. I stepped out of the spray and turned to examine my ass. Splotches of deep purple decorated my skin low on my buttocks, and a few had bloomed on my thighs. I touched the colorful spots, finding them tender to the touch.

I returned to the water, washing my hair with the fruit-scented soap, which I now realized was scented with maasi berries. I wasn't sure how I felt about the night before. The sex had been fantastic, but my ass hurt like hell. Aside from the bruises, I was no worse for wear, but that shock wand had fried my brain and that fucking paddle needed to die in a fire. All in all, it wasn't an insurmountable situation. Rha'han, despite his...sternness, seemed a decent sort of man. He had done very well with my needling so far.

I just needed to figure out what I was going to do. Centauri Prime would be expecting our monthly research notes, inventories, and status reports in a few weeks. Investigations would be launched when no response was given. Once they realized what had happened, Lo'Rah's global IP would be blocked from accessing Centauri satellites and any of us still in possession of our Arkivs would also be blocked from accessing the Centauri data banks. The only data files we would be able to access would be those already on our tablets and those on Arkivs still on Lo'Rah. The situation was a diplomatic nightmare. I wasn't above wanting the Lo'Rahni to pay for the unprovoked attack on our facility, but I didn't really want to be stuck on a banned planet.

I turned the water off and wrung the excess from my hair. I stepped out into the cool air of the room, wrapping myself in the fluffy towel, using the ends to dry off the cuffs. Daesha was standing near the bed when I came back into the bedroom. Another tray sat on a small table beside the bed with some fluffy eggs, a few pieces of fruit, and a piece of toasted bread on a plate. A smaller tray sat beside it with bandages and two jars sitting on it.

"Good morning, Mistress, " Daesha said with a small curtsy. "I see you already found the shower. I have brought you breakfast."

I tucked the towel so it would stay in place and took a seat at the little table, gingerly eating the proffered fair. "Thank you. This tastes wonderful," I said, taking a bite of the airy eggs.

She smiled, fins billowing happily. "If you will permit me, Mistress, I can brush your hair for you."

"Um...okay," I said, slightly uncomfortable. I had vague memories of slaves brushing my hair when I was living on the Lo'Rahni ship as a child, but no one had done so since.

Daesha was infinitely gentle, drying and combing until my hair fell in a smooth sable sheet. She then began weaving it into a complex braided knot similar to what Rha'han had done to my hair. I guessed it was some sort of popular style here. By the time she had finished, I had finished my meal.

"Master has bid me to change your bandage and treat your bruises. If you'll permit me, it shouldn't take more than a few minutes." She clasped her hands demurely before her, her voice pleasant, but I  could hear the uncertainty in her tone.

"You can change the bandage, but the other is unnecessary."

Her eyes shifted, then dropped. "Ah...may I speak freely, Mistress?"

I sighed. "I'm not from a planet with slaves. You can always speak freely with me. Please do, actually. And you can call me Selena."

She opened her mouth slightly and closed it a few times. "I'm not sure Master would approve."

"Well, he's not here, so who gives a shit?"

Daesha's eyes widened.

I sighed. "Sorry. If it makes you more comfortable, you can just do it when he's not home and do whatever it is he prefers when he's here."

She looked off to the side, contemplating my request. "I suppose I can do that." She then busied herself with stripping my bandage and cleaning the brand. "I strongly advise you allow me to treat the bruises as well. Master wishes it done and will be displeased if it is not."

"Surely he wouldn't blame you for my refusal."

Daesha arched a scaled brow. "It won't be me he's upset with. Trust me, it would behoove you to acquiesce. It's just a simple ointment. It will make them heal faster." She pressed the edges of the bandage down, forming a seal against my skin.

I gritted my teeth. "Fine."

She let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you...Selena."

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

Friday, October 20, 2017

e[Lust] #99

Elust99 Exhibit A Header

Photo courtesy of Exhibit Unadorned

Welcome to Elust 99-

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


~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Private Eyes
Lust Highway


~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

I love a man in a suit
Church Smells, Beliefs and Fornication

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

The House Next Door


*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

Feelings about bisexuality
On scheduling sex
Reasons I Didn't Orgasm That Aren't About You

Erotic Non-Fiction

Wet on the Washer
Alice Takes a Spanking
The GP - Part Two

Erotic Fiction

Rope Tattoo
Taking the Lead
Rites of Passage ~ Part 4
Spanking Desires
How Could I Resist
Summer Smoke
Angel on My Shoulder

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Marks are Memories on the Skin
Him. His cane
Being Naked
A Prickly Situation
Collars in bdsm: Where did they come from?



Sex News ,Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

“What Were You Wearing?”


Elust 88

Wednesday, October 18, 2017

Pain Sluts and Brain Squirrels

One thing I see come up a lot online in regards to kink is the subject of mental illness. Whether it's safe to play with someone who has one, or how BDSM doesn't replace an actual therapist, or how you shouldn't use BDSM like therapy.

I, personally, have OCD with a social phobia and periodic depression. I've had them for all of my post-pubescent life. Due to my brother's disastrous history with the local mental healthcare, I didn't see a psychiatrist until I was in college. It was a shit psychiatrist too. Charged $300 for a 10 minute appointment to promote a therapy I couldn't possibly afford. I finally started getting my meds from a physician, but it wasn't until last year that I found a doctor that finally put me on the right medications.

But, I've been in the lifestyle since 2010. I've been in the scene since early 2011.  And, I have to say, BDSM has done way more for me psychologically than doctors ever have.

Prior to entering the scene, I was an antisocial virgin with acute physical paranoia. I only had a handful of friends and I didn't like anyone touching me who wasn't a close family member. When I was still going to church, my preacher once touched me under the chin and I had to fight real hard not to instinctively take a swing at him. I was terrified of people. Well, I still kinda am sometimes. And, Lord knows, I didn't touch anyone if I could help it.

Discovering masochism and the community was a Godsend, honestly. And it makes sense, because I used to cut as a teenager to help deal with the untreated depression. But that first flogging? Everything just clicked. The nausea subsided, my brain finally stopped screaming at me, the tension headache I'd been nursing just bled away. It was bliss.

I have always been my happiest when I'm getting beaten regularly. Even during my long distance relationship, I had play partners in the scene who took care of my masochistic needs and I was happy. I wasn't depressed. I still had my OCD, but I wasn't laying around staring at the ceiling all day with no energy for anything.

For the last 8 months or so, I've been without regular play, and its been a rough go of it, I assure you. Probably some of my lowest months, well, ever. Major life events have triggered it, sure, but I was without what I now realize was self-medication. The best kind, really. Forcing my brain to produce its own chemicals without drugs.

Now, I am medicated, but even so, the last two parties I've attended, I've gotten a beating. And I noticed, after that first one in a long time, my mood jumped way up. I still wasn't as energetic as I used to be, but things definitely improved. I cleaned out my car for the first time in months. (It was pretty gross in there, by the way). I cleaned my room for the first time since I'd moved. Things were just...better.

This weekend was great. I had a friend stay over, we went to another kink party. I beat her. I got a great beating from someone I'd never played with before. I had an orgasmic piece of chocolate cheesecake yesterday at lunch. I am riding high.

I also started a new medication this week, but I haven't been taking it long enough for it to take effect, so this is all the masochist fix working.

People say not to use BDSM as therapy. But honestly, why not? Finding this community has done more for me than the medical profession ever has. And there are so many with similar issues in the scene. We can talk about different medications and psych issues without fear of judgement or stigma. There are others here that know the row you hoe.

I'm not saying eschew therapists entirely. For many issues, that's obviously not a good idea. But, honestly, kink is my therapy. I don't have panic attacks when people touch me anymore. I have more than 4 friends. I actually leave my house and do things with other humans. I'm still awkward as fuck, but I'm always going to be that way. I still don't have the best self-esteem, but I'm way better than I was when I came into all of this.

I have my pills, but honestly, BDSM, masochism, this community. This is my wonder drug.

Saturday, October 14, 2017

Star Talker: Part 16: Feral Passions

There was an oddly alluring combination of fear and fury in her expression as she looked down at his improvised rigging. She tried to draw her knees together, but the few centimeters she managed weren't enough to shield herself. Rha'han tilted his head, considering her, watching the trickles of fear being swallowed up by the anger. He plucked a midnight blue sash from a drawer and tied it around her head, taking away her sight. Every muscle in her body tensed as if readying for battle.

She jumped slightly as he drew the tongue of the crop gently up the length of her thigh. He whispered calming nonsense as he continued the trail of the leather across her body, as if speaking to a spooked animal. Her breathing slowly returned to a somewhat normal rhythm, although her chest still heaved with long deep breaths. He circled her, using the crop like a paintbrush to draw the letters of his name in Klotharan calligraphy all over her body. She stretched her fingers in the chains, curling them into fists, and releasing them. Slowly, she relaxed, shivering occasionally when he trailed over a sensitive spot.

He snapped it up between her legs to strike her damp and swollen lips. Selena cried out, squirming in her bonds. Rha'han smiled at the sound. She sounded startled, but not pained. He landed a few more pops, just hard enough to sting a bit, but nothing too hard. Her breath quickened. He snapped the leather across each delicate nipple, watching the small globes bounce with the impact. She gasped. He did it again and capped it off with another slap of her sex. She was panting again, fidgeting restlessly. He flicked the crop low on her ass several times, watching the skin there blush pink to match the bruises forming from the paddle.

Her hushed whimpers filled the silence around them, meshing with the snaps of the leather to create a rather enticing melody. He kept a steady rhythm, striking with varying intensity, always in a different place, always returning to the heat at her core. She was panting now, muscles flexing and straining, reaching for something she couldn't quite grasp. He drew the leather gently up the length of her slit, stopping just over the bundle of nerves nestled beneath the lips.

She sucked in a breath. "Please," she said, the plea barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, laying two of his large hands on each of her hips. "Please what, miiyah?"

Her jaw tensed and ticced. She let out a long, slow breath. "If you make me say it, I promise I will murder you in your sleep."

He barked a laugh and detached her cuffs from the chains. She groaned as he eased her arms back down to her sides, massaging her upper arms to restore blood flow. Tossing the crop aside, he knelt and released her ankles. He scooped her up into his arms as he stood and carried her to the bed. He tossed her onto it. She bounced a bit, flailing as she fell. He climbed atop her, forced her thighs open with two of his hands and plunged into her heat.

She moaned as he moved within her, turning her head back and forth, still blinded by the sash. She lifted her arms, reaching out for him. He grabbed her arms below cuffs and pinned them firmly to the bed, continuing his wild thrusting. She pushed against his arms, but her efforts were weak. He could feel her hips rocking with him, the muscles of her sheath contracting around his cock. Her slightly parted lips caught his attention. He captured her mouth with his, devouring those lips, plundering her with his tongue. She responded enthusiastically, biting his lower lip sharply, sucking it into her mouth, scraping it with her teeth as he pulled free of her. He growled, kissing her more forcefully. She met him stroke for stroke, ravaging his mouth as he ravaged hers. He released one of her wrists to get better leverage. Her arm shot up and she wrapped his hair around her fist, yanking hard as she bit his lip again.

He lifted up to shove the sash off her face. Her eyes were glowing galaxies awash with feral passion. She pulled at her other hand. He released it, and it joined the other to tangle itself in his braids, pulling his head back down so she could swallow him up once again. He reached down between them and found that bead of flesh that drove women crazy. She moaned into his mouth as his fingers danced around it. He could feel her abs twitching, her thighs straining, the movement of her hips becoming more erratic as she chased the high which he was pushing her into. She came with a long, loud moan, muffled by the press of his lips. Her body convulsed around his squeezing around his length, her body brushing against every bit of him. He slipped a hand around her throat and lifted up to look her in the eyes as he moved faster, chasing his own high. She clawed at his hand, but her gaze never wavered from his, the black holes of her pupils nearly consuming the entirety of her galactic pools.

He grunted his release, milking himself with her body with slow strokes. He rolled off of her, wiping the sweat from his brow. She gulped in air, panting, sinking into the bed. She grabbed the sash and wiped beads of sweat from her own face.

She turned to look at him, eyes still dark. "That was interesting."

He jerked his head toward her, eyes narrowing. "Impudent little she-beast."

He dragged them both up to the nest of pillows at the head of the bed and pulled her against his chest, wrapping his lower set of arms firmly around her middle, preventing any escape. "Go to sleep. If you don't try to kill me in my sleep, I might let Daesha treat those bruises in the morning." 

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

Masturbation Monday

Sinful Sunday

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

30 Days of Kink: 3&4: The Masochism Tango

Day 3: How did you discover you were kinky?
Day 4: Any early experiences that, in retrospect, hint at your kinks?

I've always been a masochist. Back when I was knee-high to a grasshopper, it manifested itself exclusively in oddly fucked up fantasies inspired by scenes in movies or strangely spanking-filled vintage cartoons. Seriously, there are a lot of old cartoons with spanking. Merry Melodies, you are some kinky bastards.

As I aged, I ran into my first bout with depression and I started exploring physical masochism in the form of minor cutting. Well, I say cutting, it was more like thin line abrasion. I would basically scratch lines in my skin with sewing needles, straight pins, or whatever small sharp things that were available and then swipe it with alcohol. I only used a knife once, the very first time. I still have a small scar from that one. I think that's the only scar that's still visible.

I'm sure that particular choice was inspired by my brother, who engaged in self-mutilation for attention when he was a teenager. He even got himself intentionally kicked out of a detention facility because they weren't equipped to deal with self-harm.

But I found it to be a way to relieve the mental shitstorm I was dealing with. I've always been a silent seether. I'm largely non-confrontational, often to a fault. It most situations, I'm flight, unless it's a physical altercation and I hit primal space, then I'm solidly fight and I will attack whatever limb I can reach.

I remember my first flogging, my first beating of any kind really. That weekend was awkward as hell. I was anxious and nauseated pretty much the entire time, but the two beatings I got were the brief moments of peace in that. The nausea faded. The headache disappeared. Everything relaxed. It was absolutely wonderful. I was instantly addicted, although it would be a good while before I was able to do that sort of thing regularly.

I know tops often lament when a bottom is stoic or doesn't make enough noise. I've always been a quiet one, but pain is relaxing to me. I want to lose myself in the sensation, give into the peace of the impact. Now, if it's a more relaxed, casual scene, I'll happily tell you to go fuck yourself if you land a good hit. I'm nice like that. But the more intense or connected scenes I have, the more I slip into the silence of just experiencing the sensations. I'm much the same way with sex, too. I've had to work on making noises, because it doesn't come naturally to me.

I don't know that I would call it subspace. I'm still fully conscious of my surroundings. But I do tend to be very focused on the sensation or lost in thought amidst it. So I find it insanely distracting and mildly irritating to get asked questions in the middle. It's why I hate counting strokes. It ruins the experience for me. I can't go anywhere if I gotta think.

I need a beating right now in the worst way. If I could get a daily dose of it, I'd be all over that shit. The pills aren't doing a great job right now. I haven't gotten a chance to flex my masochistic muscles much at all in the last several months. I can feel the tension in my neck and shoulders, the tightness in my chest. I need to go until I've cried it all out and need to slip into that exhausted coma, preferably in someone's arms.

Wednesday, October 4, 2017

30 Days of Kink: Day 2: The Big List

Day 2: List your kinks.
This list certainly isn't comprehensive, but it is extensive, I think. And in alphabetical order! You're welcome.


belly dancing
brat play
breast spanking/whipping, nipple play
breath play
butt plugs
candle wax play
consensual nonconcent
corporal punishment
device bondage
domestic servitude
face slapping
gags (cloth, bit)
glass dildos/plugs
gloves (leather, work)
hair play
hair pulling
kitten play
leather toys
mind fucks
OTK spanking
paddles (some)
power exchange
primal play
rape play
remote control devices
riding crops
sensation play
sensory deprivation
slave bells
temperature play

Curious About:

fucking machines
vampire gloves
hair bondage
water bondage
abduction play
anal hooks
extended captive role play

Sunday, October 1, 2017

Under the Sea

Under the sea
Under the sea
Darling it's better
Down where it's wetter
Take it from me!

A bit of an abstract interpretation of the theme, but I was super excited about my new mermaid Pusheen. So enjoy some mermaid hair with a cute little Mewmaid. And obviously, I'm not taking part in the competition, but I hope you enjoy it just the same. Good luck to the rest of you sexy folks!
Sinful Sunday