What is this “hard, rough and unprotected” thing in women’s bdsm porn?

I’ve got a novel that I expect to have finished and on the market by the end of this month. One of my beta readers said it was “like Ben Elton, but with explicit sex”. I’m happy with that as a genre.

I don’t want it to be marketed as “erotica with comedy elements”. I’d rather it was “an extremely sexy comic novel”.

Though, of course, I want it published, and once I have a publisher I don’t care if they market it as “the best thing since Nigella in the Kitchen“, so long as they give me money. 

But I was looking through Kindle, checking out bdsm books, for the marketing and the prices. There are writers out there asking for $6.99 for a semi-literate 15-page wank fantasy, and I have to say that I think they’re dreaming. For all that I think writers should be paid in diamonds, rubies, oysters, champagne and free sex, I still think asking for about $1.50 a page, for 15 pages, is eye-wateringly lazy and greedy.

On the other hand, I expect that no one buys that stuff, so perhaps it doesn’t matter. Nice try, is all.

Anyway, the other thing that struck me was the amount of anti-condom messaging, where one of the hot bits for the intended reader (the target audience seems to be women) is the bit where the male lust object tells the heroine that he’s going to fuck her hard, without a condom. 

I wondered what the hell that was about. Here are my three guesses.

  1. Maybe it’s some kind of cultural side-effect of the resurgence of the religious right. Anti-birth control measures are not just getting into US laws, they’re also getting into the porn. 
  2. Most people who use condoms probably don’t actually like them. I use condoms. But where we’re being sexually exclusive, been tested, and so on, skin to skin is far more intimate, more sensual, and, in the Erica Jong sense, more zipless. But the “hard, rough and unprotected” porn usually won’t even mention condoms, or the advantages of bareback. Still, maybe for once they’re being subtle.
  3. A fair proportion of the books end with the heroine in advanced, blissful pregnancy. Her sexual rival – often her mother – has gone, and now she’s happy being looked after by the step-father. She didn’t get a billionaire, but at least she got a guy who owns his own home and has a job. So, like the billionaire porn, it’s partly sexual and partly an economic fantasy.

The truth is, I don’t really understand “hard, rough and unprotected” porn. When I read a sex scene in this genre, I tend to see it as something like this:

“He pushed her down and as her legs sprawled apart, helpless from her own wanton desires, with one powerful, masculine lunge he exposed her to STDs and unwanted pregnancy.”

This is not hot, to me. But obviously it is for a lot of people. I’m not being a snob and I’m not mocking. I genuinely want to understand this genre. 

Can anybody help?


Julian “I’m Wearing You” Assange

One other point, since we’re talking about condoms.

If you get sexual consent by agreeing to use a condom, and then don’t use a condom without informing your partner, the law on obtaining consent by deception is clear in pretty much all jurisdictions in the world.

If you do that, you’re a rapist.

Wicked Wednesday: Maddie’s virginity 4

I was saying, “please,” please, Sir” but I didn’t know what I wanted. 

But there in that office, wearing only my shirt and panties, socks and shoes, I wanted something and I wanted it harder than I’d ever wanted anything in my life before. My body was glowing, especially my hands where he’d strapped them. My cunt, too, though he hadn’t touched me there. And yet the truth is that he had. 

He had his hands on my hips. For some reason I knew that something would happen, some great release, if he would just put his hands under my shirt, and under my panties… I wanted him to hold my bottom, touching my bare skin. I think, now, that if he had touched me there I’d have come.

But he left me yearning. He stepped back, and I felt so sad. I was stricken. He looked into my face for a long time. I know he recognised me then, and he knew what I wanted. He smiled.

“Put  your bra and shirt back on, Maddie.”

“Sir?” I must have sounded so disappointed. I stepped back and sucked in my tummy. It made my breasts look hard, and bigger. Like everything a man could want, I’d read.

“Bra and shirt on, girl. Do as you’re told.”

I said, “yes, sir.” A bit sullen. I got dressed again.

He smiled at me. “It’s not often I have to repeat an order for a girl to put her clothes back on. Not in this office.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“I suppose you are, Maddie. Now, you’re going to go back to class now.”


“And you’re going to tell your teacher that you got six strokes with the strap on your hands. Do you understand?”

“In… in class, sir?”

“In a loud clear voice. You were prepared to embarrass her in front of your class. Do you think you’re more special than she is?”

“No, sir. She’s my teacher.”

He grinned at me. “Is she? Anyway, you’ll tell her, loud and clear, that you’ve had the strap, Maddie. And that you have to leave again at twelve sharp, because you’re going to come straight back here to get a spanking over my knee. Instead of lunch, today.”

“Oh! Sir!”

“A bare-bottom spanking. Over my knee. Do you think you can say that?”

“‘The headmaster gave me the strap, miss, Six hard ones, on my hands And I need to leave at 12 sharp, because he’s going to spank my bare bottom. At lunchtime.”

“Good! Come closer, Maddie.”

I stepped back so we were touching, my breasts rubbing against him. It was through the bra and cotton shirt now, but we could feel it. This time I realised that his thing was hard. I guess it had been before, but I wasn’t thinking of him as a man, then. Now I was.

I sank into him. I wished he’d hold me properly, and when he reached under the shirt and held my hips and pulled in tight I thought I’d cry from the joy of it. Then I saw him smile. “But there’s one other thing.”

“Yes, sir?”

“You’ll have to be on time. I’m allowing you till 12.05 to get here. For your spanking.”

“Sir! I – Well, I’ll really have to run. To be on time.”

“Good girl. Because if you arrive after 12.05, you’ll get your spanking, but you’ll get an extra punishment too. You’ll have to come back after school. And you’ll get the paddle. On your bare bottom and thighs.”

“Oh my god. Sir.” I was terrified. And excited. And terrified of how excited I was. 

“Oh. And you’ll tell your teacher that. That if she keeps you even a minute, you’ll be late. And if you’re late for your spanking, you’ll still get the spanking, but you’ll have to come back here after school so I can paddle you.”

“Sir? But she -” But I stopped. I’d done my best to make my teacher look stupid. If she decided I was going to be late so that I got the paddle after school, I couldn’t really complain. “Yes sir, I understand.”

He smiled. And his hands held me lower, to squeeze my bottom through my skirt. It wasn’t my bare skin, but I nearly howled, I’d wanted that so much. Then he smacked me. “You know what you have to tell your teacher. And I’ll see you at 12.05, for your spanking. Don’t be late, Maddie.” 

I knew I was doomed. I was for the paddle before I went home, and that was that. “I’ll try, sir.”

He smiled again, and walked me to the door. “Don’t be too afraid, Maddie. I think you were made for this. Weren’t you?”

i didn’t understand him. “Sir?”

“I want an answer, Maddie. Were you made for this?”

“Yes, sir.” 

His and shot out and smacked my bottom, hard. My mouth fell open from the shock of it. It felt like he’d hit my cunt. “Try again.”

My heart beat so hard then. “Yes sir, I was made for this, sir.”

Another FREE novel segment! Get it HERE!


I’m at the point in the novel where the heroine is in the bathroom with an enema kit “making herself nice” for the hero to buttfuck her. The hero thinks that’s charmingly shy, though he doesn’t think it’s necessary. I hope I don’t get so far into their respective states of mind that I forget to make it sexy. 

So I’m a bit busy just now. (Though there will be a Wicked Wednesday episode this week.) In the meantime, here’s another slice of this novel thing.

Get your FREE novel excerpt here!

FREE novel segment!

I pushed Shar’s feet further apart, and, distracted, she accommodated me. She was still standing, being pleasured, her cunt moving on my slick-wet hand, trying to get my cock into her. 

Shar was still muttering her mantra: “Yer. Yer. Yeh. Yeh. Ye. Ye. Y’. Y’.”

I can’t transcribe her from about that point. But Shar likes to be vocal when she’s excited.

“Hang on. Condom. Fucking condom. Hang on.” I stepped back so my cock was free, then pressed her cunt with my hand, gently, in farewell.


“And Shar, you keep your ass up, and keep your damn hands on the bed.” Sometimes when I’m very aroused I forget who is a submissive woman and who isn’t. But Shar kept her place.

She said, “you mean, you want me bent over?”

I stopped for a second and stared at her. She was still in position, looking down at her hands, bottom arched up. She was teasing me, of course, but it was the fifth time she’d said a variant of ‘bend over’. I decided that if she said it a sixth time, I really was going to spank her. Not hard, but she’d experience a real spanking, just the same. Over my knee and enough to color her skin.

I smacked her sweetly presented ass. “Minx. But yeah, you’ve got my tastes worked out.” 

My jeans were in a pile on the floor and there were condoms in the back pocket. I opened the packet with my teeth, and put the bloody thing on.

Shar spoke very slowly and deliberately. “Neeknhi, by the way, means fuck me. Please.”

I stood behind Shar and pressed forward, my thighs pressed against her presented buttocks. She reached back and guided my cock into her, and we joined, focused on sensation.  

There was warmth and wet, and there was hardness in softness.

Then I slid deeper, and Shar held herself completely still, also silent, letting me move for both of us. Time was slow, or I was. Sensitive centimeters. I was buried in Shar. I heard her take in a breath, her first in a while. It took an effort to remember to breathe too. 

We moved together. Time passed.

Sinful Sunday: Castle stairs

“Go to your room.”

“Yes, sir.”

He watched her mount the stairs, the beautiful, compact strength of her as she climbed. Framed in stone, as the woman in the painting behind her is framed in wood. 

Strength is sexy, he thought, as is submission. How lucky he is that they go together so well.    

What can doms say about submission?

The legendary and wonderful Molly was a bit irritated by my saying that, in one sense, submission is simple. See  here.

This isn’t another instalment in an argument. Peace has broken out. I love and admire Molly, and she thinks I’m sort of ok.

I meant that obeying an order is usually simple physically (psychologically is a whole different question). Therefore a dom may say his or her order is “simple” to obey. While deliberately ignoring how far from simple it is, in psychological or political terms, or in any way other than physically.

That is, a submissive doesn’t need to be an Olympic athlete to bend over a desk. But there are many other reasons why that may be difficult for the submissive. When the dom says it’s “simple”, he or she is deliberately ignoring a lot of complicated things,

What’s worse, the dom is ignoring those psychological truths for fun and sexual pleasure.

But doms, even twoo-doms, often don’t tell the absolute truth, in a scene. For example, a dom might say the submissive is a silly girl, or silly boy, when the dom knows perfectly well that the submissive is anything but silly.

But being put down a little can make the scene hotter for some submissives, so things like “you silly girl” get said. Sometimes what a dom says, in the heat of the moment, is intended to create a scene and make it sexier. When we’re doing that, we are not on oath.


Anyway, I want to explain why the stories in this blog are written the way they are. 

The first issue is that almost all of what I write in this blog is based on things that actually happened. I’m only one of the people who took part in that experience, so there’s a whole story or side of a story that isn’t told.

There’s always at least one woman involved in the story. Sometimes there might be two or three perspectives on my actions as a male dom. But I can only write as me, and what I did and what I saw, heard and felt.

An observant dom learns a lot by paying attention in a scene, but it’s still not telepathy. The submissive is another person, with their own thoughts and feelings. 

When I write about a woman (or women if it was a threesome or some other complicated arrangement), I think I have three duties. 

1 I have to preserve their privacy. She (or they) shouldn’t be identifiable, not even by people who know who I am. I change things, cunningly, to make sure that people, sexual partners in particular, preserve their anonymity. I can’t give an example of what I do, for obvious reasons, but sometimes I’m pretty damn clever about that. 

2 I should write about the information the woman or the women gave me about what she/they thought and felt about what was going on.

In writing that, I should always respect those women as people, sexual human beings, and never write about them as male fantasy figures. Though I should write about how sexy they were/are, and the pleasure they gave me and (though it sounds immodest even to mention it) the pleasure I gave them.

3 I should not presume to speak for them. If a woman came, I can say that she came. If she said something nice to me, or critical, I can tell you that. But I can’t presume to get into her mind and tell you what she thought.

I can report responses, actions, things said by the submissive. i try to do that in a way that gives a real sense of both her and me, and makes it reasonably clear what she thought, in general terms. That includes when she was thinking I’m being an idiot, which i try to be honest about.

So I’ll write about her words and sounds and movements of her body, which say a lot, but I ain’t no ventriloquist. And she ain’t no sock puppet.  

So in this blog you get bits of my inner monologue, but not of hers. To me, that silence is an act, or omission, of respect. 

Wicked Wednesday: Maddie’s virginity 3

So I’ve got my tits out in front of this guy. First man to see them. [Maddie lay beside me. She was telling me a story that contained a bad memory. But at this moment it was turning me on. So I kissed her, holding and stroking her face. That reflected both of the feelings her story was bringing out in me.]  

And I knew I’ve got good tits, though god knows I didn’t like much about my body. [Thank you. I like it much better now.]

I was hoping he was impressed, though he was keeping his face blank. as though this was something impersonal. He’d just made me strip for him, and he was about to hurt me. You can’t get more personal than that. But there were no choices.

Well, I had no choices that wouldn’t make things worse. Or better, in some way I wasn’t quite sure about. But I couldn’t have handled “better”. Not just then. So I put my hand out for him. My heart banging, and my cunt still wanting so hard it hurt. I watched him raise the strap, over his shoulder. “Keep your eyes on mine, Maddie, until we’re finished here.”

I said, “yes, sir.” He had such kind eyes, too. And he arced the strap over and down, so it seemed to move almost slowly until the impact on my palm. I cried out. It felt so fierce, and also, down deep, it felt so good. Like sugar and fire. And I said, “One, thank you, sir.” 

It felt so easy to humble myself like that. He hadn’t asked me to count or thank him. But it felt right. And made it sexier. He looked incredibly surprised, almost shocked. He’d expected me to take my hand away and burst into tears. Like most girls do.

[“Jennifer won’t,” I said.

Maddie had settled on her back beside me. She reached over and gave my cock a squeeze. “No, she’ll thank you. And she’ll mean it.”] 

But though he looked at me with real interest after that he didn’t say anything. He just raised the strap over his shoulder and swung it. That impact, the leather against my palm, made my hand, then my whole body feel like it was glowing. Hot, yes, but also flying. In a new world. I said, “Two, thank you, sir.” 

He grunted then, as if we’d been doing thing physical between us. But he swung the strap again, a little harder, I think, but it didn’t matter. I thanked him again, and, oh god, how I meant it. I must have sounded so earnest. So heartfelt. I cried then. Not because of pain.

He knew what was happening, I’m sure of it now. I didn’t look at his cock, but I’ll bet it was hard. When he told me to hold out my other hand, he had the same constriction in his voice that boys had, when they tried to get up the nerve to ask me out. But he made it sound different: it sounded like intensity.

So we we stared at each eyes while he gave me the next three strokes. And we stood there, staring at each other, after I’d said, “Six, thank you, sir!”

His mouth opened. I thought he was going to tell me to put my clothes back on again. But he didn’t. He stepped forward, with his hands out to me, in invitation. So I rushed him, hung my arms around his neck, and pressed my breasts against him. And rubbed, as though I was trying to bore a hole through him. Two holes. Eventually he touched me. I felt his hands on my bare back. The small of my back, then sinking to hold my hips. 

I wanted his hands under my skirt. I was still on fire, though my hands didn’t hurt at all, though he’d strapped them pretty hard. I wanted more. I looked at him. “Sir? Please?”



My novel: Three parts written, two to go! Free excerpt!

My novel has been taking up a lot of my blogging time and energy. It’s a bdsm comic romance novel, which is not the commonest genre in the world.

Anyway, I finished Part 3 about an hour ago. It’s survived two critical re-readings so far, and it seems to be good.

So to celebrate here’s a special offer. An excerpt from my novel, ABSOLUTELY FREE!

(Hah! Like I charge for anything.)

From The Tawse’s Tale

We kissed, mouth to mouth, my hands in her hair at last. Then, while her tongue ran along my top teeth, and I smelt breath of green herbs, I lowered my hands to unclasp that bra. In some ways I’m a disappointment to women who really like lingerie. I always prefer bare skin. And though I have kinks enough, I’ve never really been a bra and stocking-tops fetishist. The sexiest thing about Shar dressed as she was just then, to me, was knowing that she wanted me to think she was sexy. That’s the hot part.

Anyway, I wanted to hold her breasts and take as much as possible of each breast into my mouth, and then kiss and suck on each nipple in turn, perhaps grazing each lightly with my teeth. So I had honorable intentions and projects involving her breasts, all of which needed the bra to go.

But Shar reached back and put her hand on mine, blocking the hand that was trying to undo the bra. “No, darling, not the bra. I’m – The bra stays, darling.”

She chuckled happily when my face fell, and kissed my nose by way of compensation.

I thought perhaps she was shy about her breasts, which would certainly have drawn male attention when she was still young, and not all men are nice to adolescent girls. So I ran my hands lightly down her body, watching and loving the trembling as I held her hips. I edged my fingertips under the cami-knickers. Shar looked happy at my attentions and intentions, then infinitely sad. “No, I can’t. Freddie.”

So I stopped, but kissed her. I wasn’t quite sure what to do. She said, “This is like a date, yes?”

“Yes.” I frowned, puzzled.

“I’m not going to fuck you on the second date.”


“Don’t look so stricken, Freddie darling. I quite like your chances for the third date.”

“Um. Then why -?”

“Darling, this isn’t something you can argue about. I was taught things about sex and not to be a slut.”

“I’m a slut,” I said. “It’s not so bad.”

“Yes, but you’re a man. It’s different for men. Freddie, I know you don’t believe in these rules, and neither do I. But … I still can’t fuck you on the second date.”

“That’s a pity.” My voice sounded shaky, to me. “Because I really want you. I really, really want to fuck you, Shar. Girl.”

She kissed me again. “But don’t feel too bad. On a second date, a girl is allowed to do things that’ll keep her man interested.”

I said, “Whuh?” Shar undid the button of my jeans and tugged the zipper down. “Oh.” I raised my ass off the carpet for a few seconds so she could wrest my jeans down, and then off. She put her hand on my cock, still trapped in cotton, running her fingertips along its length, then clasping it firmly, feeling it throb against her palm. “Oh. Well, indeed. This seems kind of historical. But obviously it’s very fine .”

Shar glanced up at my face for an instant. “I really don’t think you need to talk.”