Porn is good! Erotica is ok, I guess

Way back in the late 20th century, there was a time when good liberals all agreed that pornography was bad.

What Pandora Blake, feminist spanko porn-maker, won in 2015. Honestly, they should just call it The Pandora Blake Award, from now on

Last year Pandora Blake, feminist spanko porn-maker took on anti-porn bigots and won. (Or they took her on and lost.) Honestly, they should just call this The Pandora Blake Award, from now on

The politics of that, and the weird alliance it involved between Christian right activists, feminists who claimed they opposed sex if it had men in it (plus the men they had sex with) is sad and hilarious, but that’s a topic for another day.

The movement still exists, but it’ll never wield the same social or even political power again. However, a by-product of that movement was a passionate debate over the difference between erotica and pornography.

That’s because we – meaning pretty well all humans – like looking at movies and images of sexy people, and sexy people doing sexy things. This is something we share with the other higher primates, as it turns out.

Anyway, it became necessary to say that some sexy movies or images weren’t pornography, so they’d escape any blanket condemnation or ban.

It became one of those irregular verbs:

  • he faps to horrible women-hating filth;
  • you fap to pornography;
  • I fap to erotica. 

Anyway, no-one ever managed a useful way of distinguishing these three terms. Which, for example, is this?

gretel spanked

It’s a picture of a woman glowing red from recent cruel treatment. The model’s head has been removed from the image, and the photograph invites the viewer to focus only on her ass.

Andrea Dworkin, weeping bitter tears, would have said the image steals her personhood: she’s just a body, a woman beaten. That’s the argument for it being porn.

On the other hand, the red is from a hand spanking desired and enjoyed by both parties, and her head was edited out (and her cunt obscured) to respect the model’s wishes. The spanking was given, and the photo taken, by her lover, your humble narrator and servant. It’s a record of love.

So is it erotic, or pornographic? I think it’s both, because to me there’s little difference between the words except for their rhetorical overtones. 

Aristotle, oddly enough, sorted this issue out in the 4th Century BCE, when he said that the difference between a king and a tyrant is that a tyrant is a king of whom the speaker disapproves. Following Aristotle, horrible woman-hating filthy pornography is erotica that someone disapproves of, while erotica is pornography (etc) that someone approves of.

Anyway, I think it’s a sexy image. I hope you like it.

images-8One other suggested distinction is that erotica is indirect, subtle, symbolic, and therefore good, while pornography is blatant and blunt, and therefore bad.

There’s more to be said about that. But I’m out of time.

Also space.


Note: This is my first ever Sinful Sunday post!


Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 123: Raylene says sorry 4

It had puzzled me that Dorabella approved of my squeezing Lynette’s ass. From her point of view I should be paying attention to her. Or to her sister, considering that I was Raylene’s lover and she was naked over her own desk, waiting for the next cane stroke to fall.

But Lynette had been chasing her ass for days, at least, and Dorabella didn’t do girls. So she was relieved that Raylene and I were keeping Lynette occupied. Raylene, meanwhile, knew that the better I entertained Lynette, the more likely Lynette was to come to her bedroom that night and join us. And if Lynette was sexually open to me as well as her, then Raylene would have a better time.

But I let go of Lynette’s ass reluctantly, and held up the phone I’d been smacking her with. She’d tucked the cane awkwardly under her left arm, perhaps because she’d noted how ungainly Dorabella’s strategy of holding it between her thighs had made her. So she had her right hand free, and she took the phone. I said, “Can you take over as camerawoman? Dorabella’s got her hands full, now.”

Now you see it...

Now you see it…

Dorabella looked at me, exasperated, and poked her tongue out. I was still speaking to Lynette. “That’d be the Dorabella who wants a spanking.” The tongue disappeared.

I’d meant to stir up more unconvincing defiance from Dorabella, with that remark. Her sudden compliance was a surprise. I expected it would set some of the agenda for Dorabella and me, when we were together tomorrow. A conversation-starter, at least.

Lynette was facing me, so she hadn’t seen the appearance and sudden withdrawal of Dorabella’s sweetly pink tongue. She kissed me again, then leaned back to study my face, as if it were a strange new plant, or insect. “You just think everybody wants a spanking.” She whispered that. We were still conspirators.

I didn’t whisper. “No. It’s a little bit evidence-based. For example I’m not sure that you do. I don’t have any data from you, either way. But statistically the odds are that you don’t.”


Not quite safe emotional ground, for Lynette. But she wasn't going to stop watching.

Not quite safe emotional ground, for Lynette. But she wasn’t going to blink, while Raylene was getting the cane 

“Though you like watching. When the girl’s gorgeous enough.” That, to my amazement, made her blush. She was embarrassed by her reaction to Raylene, or at least to Raylene being caned. That, in turn, gave me a moment of shame. I’d seen Lynette as super-humanly self-possessed. I hadn’t expected her to be feeling out of her depth, and so I hadn’t seen it.

I moved us to safer ground. “And the girl is gorgeous. Unbelievably.” 

“Oh yeah.” She sounded enthusiastic, and happier again.

“And she thinks you’re gorgeous. Raylene? You can speak.” 

More familiar ground. Very emotionally safe.

More familiar ground. Very emotionally safe. (As modelled by Catherine Cornelius and Una Persson.)

“Thank you, master. Lynette, the girl thinks you’re hot as fuck. And gorgeous.”

“Good girl.” I looked at Lynette. She was smiling, back on territory she knew. “And that ass is definitely worth watching. Under any circumstances.”

I picked up the lighter cane again. “Got the camera ready?” 

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 122: Raylene says sorry 3

Lynette swallowed. She’d had her hands on Raylene’s ass earlier that morning, but this was different. Now Raylene was being caned, there was colour there, and corrugations, and cunt: the smell of arousal.

But after a second she frowned, then her face lightened. “All right.” She got up and came to my side of the desk where Raylene waited, bent over, head down. She traced her finger-tips down Raylene’s marks. “They’re raised,” she said, surprised.

“And hot?”

“Oh, very hot.” 

I said, “Dorabella.” 

“Yes?” Dorabella had been filming Lynette’s hand, stroking her sister, the finger-tips straying into the tender, sensitive valley between her buttocks. But she looked over at me. 

“Give me the phone.” Dorabella held it out, a little puzzled. Did I think she’d done a bad job? But I held her hand and squeezed reassuringly as I took the phone from her. “And pass me the cane.”

caneheldShe reached between her thighs, where she’d been holding it by keeping her legs tight together. Our eyes met as I took it from her. “I want you to go round to the front of the desk now, love. Put your hands on Raylene’s shoulders, and hold her down. I don’t want her upper body to lose contact with the desk, is that understood?”

Dorabella nodded. She looked awed, wondering. I said, “She’ll can’t hold herself down, and that’s only going to get her into trouble. It’s up to you.”

Dorabella shrugged. Life was full of puzzles, like why I would care if Raylene got herself into more trouble. But she did as I’d asked, crossing in front of me, then bending down to kiss Raylene’s forehead. She straightened up and rested her hands on Raylene’s shoulders.

I didn’t say, “Good girl.” She knew she was being obedient, and there was no need to rub it in. Instead I said, “Hold her down hard, Dorabella. If she has to get extra punishment because you let her get up, you’ll get the same.”

2 4 cane“I bloody well will not!” Dorabella tried to sound defiant, but she pressed more firmly down on Raylene’s shoulders. She didn’t trust herself, I thought, to say ‘no’ if I gave Raylene an extra couple of strokes and then told her to take her place beside her sister. Best to make sure that choice didn’t have to be made.

I approved. I didn’t want to give Raylene extra strokes, so Dorabella’s blushing compliance was perfect. 

Lynette still had one hand idly stroking Raylene’s left set of lines and welts, but she was watching Dorabella, now. The robe was nearly open to Dorabella’s waist, though her breasts somehow managed to stay inside its material. 

“Lynette?” I touched her shoulder, and she turned to face me. I picked up the cane, and held it out. After a pause she took it. “Thanks. If Raylene behaves, you’ll only need to hold on to it for the next six strokes.”

Lynette quirked her mouth. “Oh, ‘if’. So it might be for eight strokes. Or ten. Or 20.”

She was getting the hang of this thing, doing no good at all for Raylene’s peace of mind. I smiled at her, and she smiled back. We were still conspirators. I took her shoulder, and stepped towards her.

If she’d been Raylene or Dorabella, I’d have pulled her to me. But I paused just before kissing her, and she kissed me. She put her arms around me, holding the cane awkwardly in the middle, as Dorabella had.

Then I stepped back and she followed me, and I slid my hands down her back, to stroke, then cup, her little ass. I smacked her lightly with the phone, and tightened my grip. Delicious muscles, smooth under a slight layer of girl plumpness. She sighed and leaned her body forward.

I said, “Muh!” when her belly suddenly pressed against my cock. She grinned lazily, satisfied, knowing the effect she was having. I caught Dorabella’s eye. She was amused again. I was funny. 

E[lust] 85: electronic forms of lust


                                  Photo courtesy of Cheeky Minx

Welcome to Elust 85 –

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~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

The Case of the Purloined Panties

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

The Inspection Zone
Date with prey

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~


Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 116: Raylene’s caning 3


Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 117: Raylene’s caning 4

Erotic Fiction

After Dark
Night World Flash Fiction
Temper temper
How to Start Super Sex
Nobody Comes Looking For Me
it was time to play

Erotic Non-Fiction

Cunnilingus. The Most Special Intimate Kiss
Nastya is nasty
“Do you want to cum in my mouth?” A Memoir
Humiliation: Raylene’s caning 2

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Come as you are…
A Case for Good Men
Changing Labels
10 Commandments of Courteous Casual Sex
The Aftermath
I miss you

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Formative Kink: “Tanya, the Lotus Eater”
At his feet
Consent In Gorean Culture

Body Talk and Sexual Health



Gretel in flight

I saw the beautiful and ethically based Gretel to the airport today. Me, I’m not beautiful, and I’m ethically base. Anyway, she’s now in the air over Antarctica, and I’m home, which is now Gretel-less.

I’ll be writing more often soon, about Gretel, and then getting back to the Raylene story.

For now, please indulge me in my current obsession for images of Leda and Zeus, the swan.

leda swan

The elegance of whipped cream

This blog, and this blogger, have pretty much turned into the Gretel fan club. If it’s not about Gretel, her cleverness, wit, ethical base and, oh, also hotness, I don’t currently want to write it or think about it. 

The photo below was taken before we went out for dinner last night. So it’s just a playful belt spanking you can see glowing so very prettily there. Nothing brutal. Add very stylish knickers, skin the colour of cream, at least in the unwhipped areas, and you have a really elegant image.

She wore a “spank me and fuck me” little kilt to the restaurant, with fishnets, and attracted a bit of attention. The proprietor even came out and did all the things that gauchos do instead of kissing a lady’s hand, when they want to show off to a hot girl.

So I had that thing men get when they’re squiring the hottest girl in the room around. Not mature, I guess, but fun.     

Anyway, here’s Gretel being elegant.

gretel elegant

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 121: Raylene says sorry 2

t-shirt offRaylene looked at me. Her t-shirt hadn’t been much protection or cover, but it had been something. It had meant she wasn’t quite naked. Losing it made her feel more vulnerable. She turned to face Lynette, and coughed again. Then there were tears welling in her eyes.

There was no way she could, or should, be especially sorry about mildly winding up Lynette last night. The punishment I was giving her was so obviously disproportionate that she had to know that her caning had nothing to do with any fault on her part.

But a tear spilled, and began its tracking down her left cheek. 

She was in the scene and setting, and she was a sorry girl saying her apologies and hoping to be forgiven. So long as the forgiveness wasn’t the boring kind that would mean that her caning was over. She said, “Lyneck”.

crybabyShe coughed yet again and said, less hoarsely, “Lynette, I’m so sorry I was rude to you at dinner last night. I was a silly – ” she glanced at me – “rude little girl. And I’m learning my lesson now. I hope you forgive me. Please.”

Two more tears spilled. One on each cheek. It had to be a hard appeal to resist.

But Lynette looked at me. It seemed she was going to wait to take my cue. 

I softened my voice. “That was good, Raylene. You’re a good girl. Now turn round. Show Lynette your marks. And remember you’ve got another dozen and a half to come. And a penalty stroke. Whether she forgives you or not.”

Raylene said, “yes, master.” She’d found her voice again. She turned her back to present her arse to Lynette, who looked, fascinated but no longer horrified, at the red-splotched and striped state of that arse. Then, without me having to tell her, Raylene put her hands on her head.

I said, again, “Good girl.” She nodded but didn’t speak.

Lynette looked at me, questioningly. I smiled at her, and she smiled back. We had a moment of complicity, deciding Raylene’s short-term fate. She formed the word, “forgive?” silently.

I shook my head. Lynette smiled, nodded and said, “Raylene?”

Raylene didn’t answer or turn to look back at Lynette. She stood still, naked, her ass striped and glowing, her hands on her head. She was showing me that she only did what I said. Lynette said, “Raylene. You’re getting punished. Rightly. And I hope you’re learning from it.” Raylene’s shoulders dropped. She’d hoped for the comfort of female sympathy. 

Lynette took a deep breath. It was hard work, being cruel. “But if you want my forgiveness, you’ll have to ask me again. Later. After you’ve had your caning.”

Lynette frowned then, looked at me and silently mouthed, “ok?”

I was grinning like a wolf prepared to share a lamb. I nodded. I hadn’t expected Lynette to know so well what Raylene would like to hear. I wanted Lynette closer to me, I realised. Where she sat I couldn’t kiss her, and I wanted very much to do that.

hand on assI said, “Lynette?”


“Would you like to touch those marks? Across that stupid little girl’s ass? She earned them for you; you can run your hand over them now. If you like.”  

There was a moment’s silence. Raylene’s shoulders rose. She’d liked that idea. But Lynette sat for a moment, thinking. 

She pursed her lips. 

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 120: Raylene says sorry 1

assuprayleneRaylene bent herself back over the desk, getting her ass up, knowing the effect that would have on me, and keeping her face turned to Lynette, knowing the effect that was having on her. I could see the side of her face. She was smiling peacefully.

She was nearly naked, showing off fresh stripes across her arse. She was the centre of attention.

She was enjoying her caning both for the cane-induced spikes of arousal and for the notion that she was a girl under discipline, being properly submissive. And – it just can’t be said too often – she was near-naked and the centre of attention. 

So I made the seventh stroke hard, aiming low, meaning it to hurt. I could feel, as the cane landed across Raylene’s arse, something of the softness and firmness of her flesh, transmitted by the feel of the cane in my hand at the moment of impact. I loved that sensation.

stripedrayleneRaylene’s sensations were less subtle. She howled and shook while the red stripe formed and raised itself into a welt. But though her face was anguished, stricken with sudden pain, she fought to keep her breasts touching the desktop and her face turned to Lynette.

We watched in silence, broken only by Raylene’s gasps as she struggled to ride the pain out without losing her position. I felt proud of her, and of myself. The seven stripes were well spaced, three of them much brighter and darker then the others, and likely to remain clearly visible, I expected, for the next three or four days. That seemed about right for a first experience, even for a girl with a high pain tolerance.

Eventually Raylene was still, and breathing normally. The room smelled of sex, or more specifically of female sexual arousal. That would be mostly Raylene, but Lynette and Dorabella were both making their own contributions. This will always effect my judgment. I felt light and elated, elevated: sex-drunk. Fortunately, most of the important decisions had already been made. 

“Right. You’re a good girl, Raylene. Now get up. Off the table, stand straight.” 

Raylene muttered a quiet, “Yes, master.” I didn’t make her repeat it louder: she was nearly beyond words. She complied, straightening a little stiffly. 

I said, “Good. Hot girl.” I meant that her arse must be burning, and also that she looked utterly, unutterably fuckable. Raylene only smiled. She had no words. “Now turn and face Lynette.”

Raylene whispered something; I assume it was an even quieter “yes master”. She stopped smiling when she faced Lynette. What was coming was serious.

tshirtoff“Get that t-shirt off.” Raylene obeyed. Orders were good. They kept her focussed. “Now tell Lynette you’re sorry for being a silly, rude little girl, and that you’re learning your lesson now.”

Raylene made a little sound. It was lust. Her pain, her humiliation and her consciousness of her own obedience had delivered a sudden lightning blow, direct to her cunt. She opened her mouth, and no sound came. She coughed.

Lynette waited, expectant. 

Taking my Leda: the Swan’s tale

Leda lay face down over a pillow, ass upraised,

Fresh and pinkly paddled, human, dangerously beautiful.

(Danger? I could get lost in there.) My talons scratch

Down the backs of her thighs, slapping brutally,

Then tightening to possess her athlete’s relaxed

Softness. I pull her thigh closer, to open her,

Hard cock yearning at the soft, sweet, sea-shelled clasp

Of her cunt. I knead my human girl.


leda from behindShe makes that short, low moan that drives me to hold

And hurt her, and I must put my knees between hers,

A feathered god mounting his mortal. My bone-like need

Thrusts forward. She engulfs me in her universe.

I gasp amazed and wordless love, awed by unity,

Then I take my girl and she takes my divinity.