Tag Archives: kink

Consent, Kink and Community

♦ I mentioned recently that I’d been to the Bristol Alternative and Burlesque Fair and had a few qualms with the compering of the event. Now (especially as the compère himself left a comment and seems like a really nice guy), I don’t want to badmouth what must be a very hard job that I likely couldn’t do, but I want to set out what it was I had a problem with and why.

Because (although I didn’t like his style anyway) it isn’t about personal taste, though it may be about personal ethics. It’s about something which I feel has big implications for the kink community and the people, whether part of that community or not, who were there. And because, though not everyone may agree with me, hopefully raising these qualms might get people to examine these issues.

The compère had what seemed like a pretty tough job to get the crowd going (I myself am practically allergic to audience participation), but I wasn’t that impressed. I mentioned “cheap “saucy” humour, being patronising, and displaying a seeming ignorance of informed consent” in my earlier post and it seems I even cleverly put them in order of importance too!

Though I didn’t like the humour and tone, that’s just my taste. Just because I don’t really like the “Phwoar! I love a bit of cock!” sort of attitude to sex, doesn’t mean much (though I do wonder to what extent the “saucy postcard” mentality might hold back wider acceptance of sexuality, but that’s a topic for another time) and no-one need pander to me more than anyone else. I also personally don’t think than audience really needs to be told to applaud when a woman takes her clothes off. Isn’t that second nature? But again, it’s likely a rhetorical trick that just didn’t land well with me.

No, it’s the consent stuff that really bothers me.

The early parts involved saying hello to people you didn’t know next to you and paying them a forced compliment (already too un-British for me). The problems, though, started with getting everyone to stand up (I was hovering near the seating area at the time) and turn to face to their right. Then the compère instructed the audience to give the person in front of them a small spank. Now, from my poor vantage point (and the fact I was quite busy cringing), I couldn’t tell you how many people did this, but that’s not the point. Did anyone know what they were getting into when they stood up?

Look, I’m not trying to sound the prude here. Nothing wrong with spanking, nothing wrong with public spanking. I like both myself (and got a twinge just writing the latter). But none of these people consented (or rather communicated consent: for all I know they were fine with it, but consent has to be communicated somehow) to even being touched, let alone being spanked. As I said to Crush at the time, my response to the person behind me would have been “You fucking touch me…”.

Later (by this time my friends and I were at a table), we were told that each table should get someone up onto it on hands and knees. No-one at our table, even the hardened kinksters, were having any of it and it’s at least good to see that, general cajoling to everyone aside, when only about three tables produced participants, no issue was made of it. We were then told that the aim was to spank the volunteers as a table and whichever table produced the most moaning (oh, so hard to fake) would get a prize.  Again, none of the volunteers OR the people supposed to spank them knew this when they were called to be involved. Sure, I suspect no fuss would have been made of anyone backing out, but that’s not really how healthy consent works.

Now, this might not seem like a lot to get angry about, but consent is paramount in all things, especially in the realm of kink. And consent isn’t just volunteering. No. To be true consent, consent must be informed. To be good kink, kink must be negotiated. It doesn’t have to be long and involved and stuffy, but people (whether being done to or doing to or both) should know what they’re getting into, boundaries should be made clear and consent should be given enthusiastically with clear ways to withdraw that consent (such as safe words).

A hypothetical person in that line of unknowing spankees had no way in the circumstances to be informed, give enthusiastic consent to what could be a complete stranger, or indeed withdraw that consent in the time between the instruction and the incoming spank. Am I the only one that thinks this dodgy?

Not only this, but this was a mixed fetish and non-fetish event. They carefully made sure to split the fetish stalls off from the alternative/burlesque ones, so some concern for the muggles must have been in the planning somewhere. But there was no mention of any fetish play, no matter how light and innocent, in the programme of events as far as I saw. Surely it’s people’s right to decide what they see and don’t see?

What sort of message are we giving off to non-kinksters, who thanks to bad press and bad books might have a warped idea of BDSM anyway, of public play among complete strangers with no communication and no consent? These spaces are a perhaps rare opportunity for our kinky community to speak for itself to people who might otherwise not get to hear us (and to teach good kink practice), shouldn’t we be a little more careful about how we use that voice?

I’d certainly love to know your thoughts on this, kinky or not. ♦

Tools of the Trade

♦ Today, Crush and I had a lot of fun. I’m not going to go into a lot of details, I think I might leave those to your imagination. But what I will show you this Sinful Sunday are the tools of the trade I used to inflict such deliciousness on both him and myself. The black handcuffs (very similar to these) were there to restrain him, the key to set him free. The ceramic dildo, the Lovemoiselle Aveline which you can see covered in my slickness here, was used on myself to great effect. It’s such a fantastic dildo and I’m always impressed at the sheer speed with which it gets me off. I teased Crush by using it on myself while all he could do was lie there tied up and pawing at my nipples.

Tools of the Trade: handcuffs and ceramic dildo

I used the Tantus C-ring cock ring (in gorgeous cherry) over his cock, more to pull him about than to really keep him hard and begging as he was already very good at both of those. The Leather Delights soft ballgag was placed gently in his mouth under my full-face hood (not shown), which was used with a blindfold to keep Crush in the dark while I tormented him. As for my very favourite vibrator, the We-Vibe Tango, well, Crush again got to hear me moan and come, both with and without his hungry, lustful input.

Tools of the Trade: ball gag, vibrator and cock ring

I also used various other, not-pictured sensation tools such as a feather stick, a strip of vintage fur, my seven-pinwheel Wartenberg wheel, the edge of a credit card to give him various sensations all over his filthy, sexy body while he was at my mercy. Not only that, but I even managed to give my new Tantus Cush a trial-run to kickstart my testing of it for an upcoming review, so the session was practical as well as just absolutely orgasmically erotic.

I teased him, tortured him, told him what to do, denied him my body, made him beg, made him plead, made him fuck me until I was done. I ordered him around and we both loved it. The tools of the trade pictured here were all immensely helpful in achieving what I wanted, but I think that what really made it all work is that deep inside this sub, there is a dom waiting to get out. And deep inside Crush’s dom heart there is a sub who likes, if not pain and punishment like I do, then being told what to do and not always getting what he wants. The tools of the trade give me, well, the tools, but it’s me that has the power, not my equipment.

What are your favourite tools of the trade? Which do you love most to use on someone or have used on you? Would you feel complete without them? ♦

Sinful Sunday

Earning My Wings

♦ Some time ago, Crush and I (along with Alt) went to one of London’s fine fetish fairs for a bit of a shufty around. We came away with a few interesting items:  a fluffy-backed riding crop and a metal ball-chain flogger (ouch).

But perhaps the best thing we found was this vintage RAF jacket.

Vintage RAF Jacket

It was bought for Crush. I like old military uniforms and the RAF by far are the coolest, and sexiest, ones. It fitted him well and he looked very handsome and hot in it. He still does whenever he wears it.

But I have to admit, I’ve taken quite a liking to it myself. So I pinch it now and then. Men from the era being slim and me being plump, it doesn’t quite close, though…

Naked Boobs in Vintage RAF Jacket

I don’t know, do you think that’s a problem? Have I earned my wings? ♦

Wicked Wednesday

Review – Love Bites Chenille Vampire Gloves

Love Bites Chenille Vampire Gloves

Disclaimer: I was provided with a free pair of Love Bites chenille vampire gloves by creator Phyllis Serene in return for my honest review. Click any picture to embiggen.

Love Bites vampire gloves, created by Phyllis Serene, appear at first to be ordinary chenille gloves. However, on closer inspection the underside of the gloves are covered in tiny, spiky, metal protrusions on the palm and fingers.

Love Bites chenille vampire gloves InteriorThey are actually constructed using brass-coloured studs, each with four spikes, pressed into the fabric of the glove from the inside and then carefully glued into place.

You can feel these stud backs when wearing the gloves, which may be annoying for some, but neither I or Crush actually minded that at all.

They also easily and comfortably fit both me (a girl with quite small hands, so I’m constantly told) and Crush (a guy with very long hands).

Love Bites chenille vampire gloves Fit

Top: My hand. Bottom: Crush’s hands.

So, appearance-wise my Love Bites are a pair of black chenille gloves with spikes you won’t necessarily notice at first glance. I honestly have not touched chenille since I was about 14 and it seriously brings back childhood memories. I remember brightly-coloured chenille jumpers really being the rage for about a year. I had two chunky blue ones.

It was, now that I think back, pretty terrible. But this is a more subtle colour (plus, not a jumper) and the fabric choice is actually great for sensation play. More on that later. For those who don’t get on with chenille, Love Bites vampire gloves also come in “basic knit”, “fuzzy yarn knit”, velour and lace.

The vampire gloves also feature an adorable heart button near the cuff. Despite this, I’d say the gloves are fairly unisex (and also if you’re put off by them not being manly or girly enough for you, I think you’re probably an idiot anyway). Personally I think they are a bit less sexy and fashionable than leather vampire gloves, but that doesn’t really rate as an issue for me. They’re definitely discreet and pretty inoffensive in look.

Speaking of inoffensive, Love Bites are also completely suitable for vegans, unlike leather vampire gloves. I’m not a vegan, but I know vegan-friendly kink can be difficult, so it’s lucky these exist!

Love Bites chenille vampire gloves Label

The Love Bites came with a label attached and in a sealed clear plastic bag. The label serves to market the toy, but also comes with a lot of useful information. The back contains care instructions, the type and price, some key info and a link for further details.

I’ve wanted to own my very own vampire gloves for quite some time now as they look amazing.

I’ve seen and handled leather vampire gloves (such as those by KinkLab) before, but they’ve always put me off for two reasons: one, they’re difficult to clean and, two, they’re very pricey. These are gloves that get swished around hot skin a lot, you’re going to want to clean them easily and well. But Love Bites can be easily hand-washed or even put into the washing machine (inside out to avoid destroying other items) on cold and left to air dry (heat will destroy the glue).

More importantly, the chenille version are also only $22 a pair (around £14.50, with about £6.50 shipping to the UK), which is much, much cheaper than the harder-to-care-for leather gloves made by big companies (KinkLab’s are from £35). And you’re supporting a great little company and business woman making these by hand. If you want something even lower in price, the basic knit version is $2 cheaper than the chenille.

In yet another triumph over leather vampire gloves, Love Bites have vampire spikes on both the fingers and the palm, unlike the measly KinkLab gloves which cover just the fingers. I mean, really. All that money for a few pesky finger points? Seriously? The Love Bites chenille vampire gloves are much more generous with their (cheaper) bitey, spiky goodness.

Love Bites chenille vampire gloves Spikes


Love Bites chenille vampire gloves are a fantastic pair of vampire gloves with a variety of both kinky and not-so-kinky uses. The spiky side can be used sensuously for sensation play, a light tickling of the spikes is lovely and teasing, or more roughly for tapping, scratching, spanking and a bit of welcome pain. The unspiked chenille side is fantastically soft and sensuous in itself and feels great alternated with the spikes, used to wake up the nerves of the skin before bringing in the vampire side or used as a spanking cool-down. The fact that you can alternate sides as you wish makes the gloves very versatile and it’s great fun to switch from furry to grr-y play.

The spiked studs themselves are pretty sharp and pointy if you press down on them with your thumb, for example, but with them evenly placed all over the surface of the vampire glove, the pressure is easily spread so that you actually have to try very hard to break the skin. In fact, we only really managed to break any skin and draw the mildest amount of blood by having Crush spank my arse nearly as hard as he could with them. Which, incidentally, quite hurt! I definitely recommend Love Bites for adding something a bit different and intense to your spanking sessions.

But worry not, with light play, it’s very likely that you won’t leave any marks at all. At worst, you could come away with  the red lines you can get from scratching hard with sharp fingernails and those should soon fade. Indeed, you really can scratch and scrape the skin quite happily with these vampire gloves, as well as being softer and brushing or tickling or caressing.

Love Bites feel absolutely amazing in use. My particular favourite areas to have “vamped” are the base of my neck and the small of my back, which, when stroked with the Love Bites, produce the most wonderful, unique fizzing and tingling sensations. They are glorious and hard to describe, but they make me wriggle and giggle and purr like a kitten. Other fantastic areas for these are the bum cheeks, other parts of my back and shoulders, the breasts (take care around the sensitive nipples, for good or ill), arms and thighs. With sensations from outright pain to soft tingle, there’s bound to be something you’ll like.

They also really, really work on completely obliterating any pesky itches you many have. Seriously. They destroy them. In my eyes, that makes them a damn utility item!

For the wielder (yes), we both found the Love Bites vampire gloves fairly easy to put on and take off, comfy to wear and easy to use. Sometimes the difference between “just right” and “too much” is subtle, so you do have to be quite careful and precise unless you have a resilient victim, but precision movements are surprisingly possible and the feedback pressure is great. They’re not an “advanced” bit of kit.

Vegan Vampire Gloves with a Bite


Love Bites chenille vampire gloves are, to come to a point (heh), wonderful. They’re cheaper, easier to clean, easier to fit, more vegan-friendly, softer, fluffier and yet still far, far more spiky than the usual leather KinkLab vampire gloves. They have spikes on both the fingers and the palm of each glove and each of the spikes is lovely and pointy and scratchy.

They look and feel good both to wear and be subjected to; never mind the nostalgia value of the chenille for me, it’s a great fabric for sensation and textured soft strokes to complement the spikes. The Love Bites’ spikes can give sensation ranging from tickling and tingling up to pain and some breaking of the skin, but you have to be quite purposeful to achieve the latter, so it’s a very safe toy. All in all, I highly recommend the chenille Love Bites vampire gloves, so go buy yours! ♦

Collar Me

♦ There’s something about a collar. Restraint and ownership delicately balanced with a fizzing freedom. An intimate act displayed in public. Leather wrapped around your neck can bring feelings of danger and security all at once.

I’d wanted a collar for a long time. Now I own several. A black PVC one, a plain black leather one, a red rubber one, a black rubber one with a blue gem, two black leather ones with poppers that say SLUT and BAD KITTY respectively. But I’ve never really had anything that I consider “my collar”. I don’t want to be literally labelled “slut or “bad kitty” all the time, the plain one is the one I use on the men in my life and the other three are too impractical for most occasions.

I wanted something to be My Collar. Something high-quality, something beautiful.

Monochrome Leather Collar

Then I encountered Leather Delights at a kink fair. I ummed and ahhed over exactly which of their many, many gorgeous collars I wanted. Not too thin, not too thick, not too plain but not too over-the-top. Soon I was holding an incredibly sexy 1.5″ wide collar with a soft black lining and a lovely white outside.

It smelt intoxicatingly of leather. It was comfortable and fit well and, importantly, I loved the way it looked. White is by no means the usual choice for collar colour and it suited me.

But of course it did. Everything about it is searingly beautiful, don’t you think? ♦

Toy with me Tuesday

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Review – Leather Delights Soft Ball Gag

Disclaimer: I was provided with a free Soft Ball Gag by Leather Delights in return for my honest review. YMMV.

Leather Delights are a family business specialising in fetish leatherwork for the kinky community. Although their online shop is pretty small compared to the wide and fantastic-looking range they bring to alternative markets (I suggest looking at their FetLife gallery to be blown away), they have a great basic range available.

I chose to review the Soft Ball Gag and it arrived very swiftly indeed and in the most discreet packing envelope. The Soft Ball Gag, available with a black or red ball (mine is red), is different from the sort of ball gag you might be used to seeing. While I’ve only seen balls made of hard rubber or plastic before, the ball here is made from what seems to be a sort of foam ball covered in durable fetish rubber.

The Soft Ball Gag, because it is soft and giving, is designed to allow the wearer to bite into the ball. And that’s exactly why I chose to review it! I hoped it would be better for me than my previous hard plastic ball gag, which I barely use because it’s so uncomfortable. Despite being apparently for beginners, my plastic one is just too big and hard for me (shut up) and my small mouth (shut up) and it makes my jaw really ache after barely any time at all. Maybe some people like that, but I don’t; it’s not the kinky sort of pain for me, it’s the other kind. Ow.

So, the Leather Delights Soft Ball Gag seemed like an absolute Godsend to me. I love to be gagged with Crush’s hand and I’ve kinked for what little ball gag fun I’ve had too, so gags are really something I want to experiment with. Was this the magic ingredient to finally make it possible?

Well, there was one thing which definitely had me enchanted.

The smell, oh, the smell! I think I’ve become a leather fetishist. As soon as I got it out of the package, I was sniffing it. Then I spent a good day with it basically clamped to my face at all opportunities just so I could keep smelling that gorgeous smell.

It’s divine! Never have I reacted to another review product this way. I was actually it carrying around with me just because I was obsessed with the thing. I’m sure I’ve had leather kink gear before (or has it been fakery?), but it’s never smelt like this before. I don’t know a lot about leather in the grand scheme of things, but it just smells like quality (and deliciousness!) to me. And it’s not just the smell either, the leather feels great to the touch. I found myself just sat there typing Tweets with the strap held in my mouth!

Seriously, if I didn’t kink for gags before, I do now. The smell and feel and look and the overall sexiness of the Soft Ball Gag turns me on even before I get it into any kind of play scenario. Now that’s a good bit of fetish gear!

The gag is made of 1″ black leather straps that go around the back and side of the head, which attach securely to metal O-rings. These then attach via poppers to a rubber strap that passes through the ball. This allows the gag to be removed quickly in case of emergency, when a buckle might be too fiddly for clumsy fingers.The gag is fastened with a buckle that can use any of the 24 holes in the strap, which is adjustable between 16″ and 22″ and will fit a variety of head sizes.

Straps-wise, I found the Soft Ball Gag incredibly comfortable, with a good, snug fit and a nice level of restraint that didn’t cut in anywhere or press too hard in the wrong place. I’ve worn it for quite a while and it’s been nothing but a delight on my face.

Ball-wise, the Leather Delights Soft Ball Gag answers my prayers. It fills up the opening of your mouth nicely, gagging you as you hope from a ball gag, but it’s flexible and durable too. The ball is firm but very giving, allowing you to move your mouth when it aches, adjust your position and, indeed, bite down in the heat of the moment or in sheer defiance. And by crikey, you can really bite into that thing hard! I bit as hard as I possibly could to give a good test and didn’t leave a single tooth mark or any damage whatsoever. The rubber cover of the ball wasn’t even scuffed or dented, it stayed as smooth and flawless as it was when it arrived.

If you have a small mouth, weak jaw or are liable to aches caused by hard ball gags, I’m confident in saying that this product is for you. The ball of the gag is small at 1.67″, and the squishy-yet-firm material restrains and gags, but gives when pressure is applied, meaning you don’t feel uncomfortably wedged open. If uncomfortably wedged open is what you’re after, this probably isn’t for you.


The Leather Delights Soft Ball Gag is fantastic bit of kink kit which I can thoroughly recommend, especially if you’ve always found hard ball gags to be a bit big or unyielding. The leatherwork is very good quality and the leather itself smells divine, particularly if you kink that way. It’s strong and durable and you can bite into that rubber ball like there’s no tomorrow with nary a scratch left to show for it. It’s comfortable to wear and does a fantastic job of gagging the wearer whilst leaving them room to bite down or manoeuvre their mouth a bit. As someone who’s always suffered jaw ache with hard ball gags, this soft one was a dream: comfy and firm but flexible. If you’ve a small mouth, achy jaw or just fancy a damned brilliant ball gag with a bit of a difference, pick one up from Leather Delights now for only £20 with £3.30 postage. ♦

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Family Planning

♦ My sister will be visiting me tomorrow and staying for about a week or so. I’m telling you this for two reasons: A) to let you know that the blog may well be on hiatus for the next week or so as I’ll be too busy having fun and B) I fancy having a bit of a ramble about it.

I’ve been tidying my room ready for her to stay in it (since I sleep with Crush in his room) and that got me thinking about my attitude to my family regarding this blog and sex in general.

Now, my family (by which I mean my dad and my sister) don’t know about my blog (heck, neither do my friends). They don’t know I review sex toys (one friend, my housemate Alt, knows that) and they don’t even know I use them (some of my friends tell legendary tales of parties involving items from The Drawer, even if it is actually now two drawers plus lingerie). They don’t know I’m kinky and they don’t know I’m bi. Or rather, I haven’t told them.

They basically know nothing about my sex life except who I’m dating, who I have dated and that we sleep in the same bed. Except my sister, who knows about the whole Fractal break-up thing and therefore knows I was in an open relationship then.  She knows it’s how Crush and I started, she had to, to help me through the whole messy business. She was shocked, a bit, but took it in her stride, bless her.

And that’s all.

I moved house just recently and my dad came to help with his car because he is an angel. But I made very sure to pack all of my sex toys and my few kinky porn mags into a massive hold-all (man, that thing really can hold all!) and put my sex books in a separate box and let him touch neither of those containers in any way. Just like the last time I moved, in fact.

He’s a bit of a fuddy-duddy, my dad, and we don’t talk about that kind of thing. I’m not an idiot, I’m aware my parents must’ve had sex, maybe even – gasp – for pleasure, but there’s no hint of that at all in his personality. You know how people tend to give off cues that they’re OK talking or even thinking about sex, that they’re open about that sort of thing? Nothing. So, I hide it all because I really can’t imagine him reacting in a “cool dad” way about it. I’d expect bemusement at best.

So, what am I going to do about my sister living in my room for a week or so? My sex books (visual and not) are happily in my bookshelf, my sex toys (whilst supposedly living in The Drawers) are strewn about my desk, my lubes are lined up on the chest of drawers, my handcuffs are fixed to the radiator (classic), my hitty things are stood in the corner and my blog is the very first link on my Opera speed dial if she uses my computer. It’s all right there.

I’m sure that last time she stayed with me, which was ages ago now, I hid it all very carefully, but this time, things have changed. She’s really matured over the years, she accepts my casual hints towards liking women without comment and she’s a strong advocate in her own right of equality in sex and gender. I think she might have even known what “cissexual” meant before I did. She’s an awesome girl and I’m actually certain, despite worrying when I was younger, that she’ll accept me no matter my sexuality or kinks or what have you. I’m not scared of exposing an “innocent young thing” like her any more because I’m proud of who I am and, frankly, treating her like a child would be insulting.

So I’ll tidy my room to make it nicer for her, I’ll put those stray dildos back in their drawers, but the books will stay where they are, the lubes will be lined up neatly because that’s where they live, the toys will be there if she looks for them and the blog will be on that speed dial if she’s curious enough to click it.

And I’m OK with that.

And if she does click the blog and does read this, I’m OK with that too. If you’re reading this, sister, hi! I hope you don’t mind. If you want to pretend you didn’t find this, that’s totally fine, it’s your choice and I understand. And if you want to talk about it, hell, I’d love that. It’d be awesome and I’m happy to explain whatever you’d like. Don’t be afraid to ask me anything. Always.

So, that’s my family planning, really. My sister’s earned a peek into the ‘adult’ side of me if she cares to look for it. I’m proud of her. My dad, weirdly enough, is now the one I care about corrupting or confusing. I doubt that’ll change, but that’s OK.

Anyway, I thought it was interesting to look at how I change aspects of my personality and sexuality to suit two different members of my family, to talk about how much of myself I’ll hide or show and why. And I hope you thought so too! What about you? What do you hide or show to your loved ones?

See you next week! ♦


This is another post from perhaps a month back that I’ve been waiting for the right time to post, so excuse me if some of the timeframes are a little off. Hope you enjoy it!

♦ “How many pounds is it?” he said, his hand hovering over my exposed rump, his voice tinged with an unusual quality that rippled on it like oil on water.

He was talking about spanking me, of course, but any other meaning than that escaped me. How many? I hadn’t done anything! We still hadn’t settled on a daily number that fit us both and I couldn’t think of anything else of significance. Why did he think I ought to know how many I should get?

“I don’t know.” I said, perhaps more petulantly than I should. Horny though I’d been all day and despite a little idle fantasising about whips earlier, I wasn’t in the mood to be spanked.

He asked again, but with context. “How many pounds is it you’ve lost?”

I understood.

I’ve been counting my calories since the end of September in an effort to lose weight. I didn’t really bother over Christmas, because I’m not that much of a masochist, and since then it’d been hard to get into a routine. I hadn’t weighed myself since the end of December, over five weeks ago. I was sure I’d gained weight.

He promised to give me a spank for each pound I was over my last weight.

But I was under by seven pounds. In fact, I’d lost 24.8lbs since I started.

So that’s what I told him. It didn’t let me off.

“How am I going to do 0.8 of a spank?” He said.
“You could round up,” I replied.
“OK,” he said, adjusting his grip to hold me firmly, “248 spanks…”
“What?!” I replied, but they started nonetheless.

That bastard, that delicious bastard. He’s a mathematician, so he knows damn well that’s not how you round up. He just thought he’d play cleverpants and move the decimal point.


But, oh, they were stingy and they were thuddy and he counted each of them out in a glorious measured metre. Slow enough for each pound of his palm to register, fast enough to leave me breathless.

By one hundred I had asked for harder, by two hundred I was screaming with each stroke for harder and faster and stronger and MORE.

I was counting too now and I found that saying the numbers out loud with him was adding to my wriggling, raging excitement. I made a mental note to count along from the beginning next time.

He finished with a flourish. 248 pounds of skin upon skin, 248 strikes of his will into my flesh. 248 individual kisses from him to me.

He turned me over and towered above me grinning as I lay with my clothes all askew and my body flushed.

“I think you’re starting to like this.”
“What gave you that impression?” He smiled.  ♦

Disney for Deviants – Part 1

Or, Defiant Men in Distress

♦ If there’s one thing I learned fairly quickly and with great certainty as I became a sexual being: I love kink. I get off on BDSM and specifically I’m a subby little slut. I love being tied up, I love being used and abused. And, of course, I love seeing this sort of thing in films and books and so on too. The thing is, even before I got into BDSM or even sex or even had masturbated for the first time, I knew what I liked to see. It’s strange. I hadn’t even really started to think about sex yet except perhaps in vague terms, but still, seeing certain things resonated strongly with me in a thrilling half-romantic, half-something else way.

I didn’t know quite what I liked about it, but I knew what I liked. And one thing I liked big time, with the benefit of some added hindsight, is the delicious, gooey, defiant manliness of a guy in distress. And you know what? Disney, of all people, is really good at this. I mean really, surprisingly good. Hey, tell you what, at this point I’ll come clean and say that this post was really sparked off by my memories of one film in particular and all the rest of the references are going to be shuffled in around it.

That film? Sleeping Beauty. (Other, lesser examples of this kink: the capture of Robin Hood in Robin Hood, Phoebus’s defiance against Frollo and his capture by Clopin in the Hunchback of Notre Dame.)

My abiding memory of that film, the one that overrules everything else even after watching it in subsequent years, is of the wicked (and awesome, in both ways) Maleficent with our hero Prince Phillip at her mercy. Specifically, I’m talking about two fairly short scenes here (pictures below are links to the scenes in question, as long as YouTube plays ball).

What does it for me? In the first scene, the rope, the gag, the strong and masculine figure bound and helpless and, most importantly of all, the small amount of wriggling to get free. The second is similar, oh, sure, the chains help, but what I really like about it is the defiance in him as he struggles in vain against his bonds, the masculine force, the rebellion.

It turns out that I really like to see heroes (and if they weren’t before, this makes them a hero for me) captured and almost powerless. I say almost, because the only power they really have left is to defy their captors and rail against their captivity. To defy them, in fact, often beyond all reason. Because what Disney films generally won’t show you is the cost of their defiance. The hero is bound or held somehow, the villain gloats and makes threats, the hero recklessly struggles half-free or spits at his captor or gives a witty and defiant retort and he is struck hard by the villain or their henchmen for their insolence (I think the closest Disney ever got to this was a rare female example where Jafar threatens to backhand Jasmine for throwing wine in his face, causing her to fall to the floor. (Incidentally, I’ve seen a fair few things with the hitting part of it added, I just can’t recall any examples now. If anyone would like to recommend any, that’d be awesome. And I should clarify here that when I say the guy gets a smack for his rebellion, I don’t mean he gets the crap beaten out of him. No horrendous violence, just a wee bit of acceptable pain and a show of power.) What’s important here is that the hero doesn’t cringe or repent or acquiesce, but remains defiant, though maybe silently so, and stoic. Or perhaps he continues to struggle angrily as he’s carted away.

Either way, I love that. It’s fucking hot.

And the thing is, I’m not quite sure why. What does that make me? I’m a sub mostly, I’m supposed to enjoy me being tied up and so on. Actually, I think I’d find that scenario pretty hot with me as the plucky captive, but that’s not what I’m looking at. He’s the one being tied up, not me. And whilst I’d enjoy myself in that scenario (seriously), I don’t think that’s why I get turned on watching it. I’m pretty sure I don’t put myself in his shoes. Sure, I’m a bit into androgyny and genderfuck, I’ve been a ‘boy’ in sexplay before, I have a packing cock, but I don’t think I’m identifying with that strong masculine presence on screen. And weirdly, I’m equally sure that I’m not identifying with the evil captor either. Sure, although I sub mostly I think I’d really like to dom a strong male who was into it, but again, I don’t think that’s how I’m watching it. So, is this submissive? Dominating? Neither?

Seems like I just get turned on by watching hot guys full of bravado in captivity (I’d also love to hear from anyone else who thinks this is hot, there’s safety in numbers!). At the time I wasn’t fully aware of it, but these moments, notably in Disney’s Sleeping Beauty, were the first flickerings of being turned on by bondage, dominance and submission. Hell, probably the first flickerings of being turned on by anything, actually.

Of course, what I wonder is did I always like this somewhere deep down or did watching these scenes somehow incline me to kink to it? Was it these scenes that helped mould me into the little deviant I am today or was my love of them an early symptom of my love for BDSM? Either way, this was a big thing in my early proto-sexuality. I got turned on (at first romantically, admittedly, if that makes any sense) and thrilled by these surprisingly kink-filled themes before I even knew what turned on was. They’re an important part of my sexual make-up.

And guess what? You get to hear more about them! What, you thought this was it? Oh, no, my friends, in the next part of this little series we’ll discover yet more subtle and secret Disney depravity and how it has affected and reflected my proclivities. More men in pain, more masculine deliciousness, added genderfuck, a dash of plain-old eroticism and lust and a good dose of turbulent slap-slap-kiss! ♦

Androgyny – Part 1

Y Fronts and Braces

♦ So. Thursday was interesting.

It might take a bit of explaining, too. Hell, it sounds a little weird even to me and I’m the one who’s kinking on it.

Where to start?

It doesn’t help that I’ve missed blogging about pretty much any of the preludes to this, again because I wasn’t sure where to start with the explanations.

There’s a reason my avatar is a picture of me in braces. Early on in our relationship Fractal told me how he found women in men’s clothing hot. Certain aspects of women crossdressing to men. Androgyny. Obvious feminine features poorly covered in masculine trappings.

Braces pressing into the soft flesh of breasts, skimming the nipples.

I mean, I’m a fair bit of tomboy anyway (to the point that, despite obvious bosoms and so on, friends have remarked that I’m ‘not a girl’) so I certainly didn’t mind dressing up in braces. Buying them was my idea anyway, Fractal just cashed in on it.

In fact, I realised I found them pretty hot too.  Not just because I knew I was dressing up equivalent to sexy lingerie. Not just because of the reaction it got me. But also because, dammit, it actually does look and feel pretty hot. Constant nipple pressure is not to be sniffed at.

Either way, it wasn’t long before Fractal intimated to me that he liked the thought of me in men’s underwear too. Not just any men’s underwear either. His.

Getting them all filthy as I got wet. The smell of my come on his pants.

It made sense.

Then, in London, he explained to me that he’d find it ‘kinda hot’ to refer to me as a ‘dirty boy’. To mess around with the gender roles. He was so cute as he told me, too. So shy and afraid I’d find him weird and his little fantasy disgusting.

Very, very sweet.

And entirely unnecessary.

It was a surprise to me too, but I felt a thrill run through my pussy as he told me. I was already dressed in my tomboy gear. White shirt, braces, manly trousers, black tie.

At the time I remember being confused as to what I found more hot: the idea of him fucking a boy or the idea of being fucked as a boy. I still don’t know. They’re both pretty sexy.

That afternoon turned me on so much. The sex was amazing. He called me his dirty boy, pressed against me, took me.


He fucked his filthy boy and she loved it. I was pretty hooked.

I’m going to leave it there for now. The explanation is a little long and I want to publish something soon, but not to rush. So here’s the first little chunk of my tale.

I promise more deviance soon….