BDSM pterodactyls

After my first post, back on 1 March 2012, a reader wrote:

“Considering you are one of the few who know what Raquel Welch’s film was called when she was wearing that furry bikini, maybe you would know where one can get one – I need it to complete my wardrobe.

“I shall find me a strong dominant man to save me from being bogged down while swimming and from scene-stealing pterodactyls.”

I replied:

“I think only one fur bikini was made, so your best bet is to get the original.

“It’s probably displayed, minus La Welch, in some Planet Hollywood. So just point somewhere, shout “look out!”, break the glass and help yourself. There may be some slight unpleasantness if they don’t mistake you for a fireman, but running away from guard dogs is a good way to keep fit.

“I met a pterodactyl in a bar once. He said he’d just been in an all-pterodactyl production of Hamlet, except for Raquel Welch as Gertrude. The rest of the cast was totally wired, he said, but they’d thought she was a bit wooden.”

 

The rest of my blog has been pretty much like that, for the last seven years. No joke too stupid. 

But just for you, here’s what you get if you Google-image “bdsm pterodactyl”. 

 

 

 

Wicked Wednesday: So do you

Jennifer said nothing, but she raised her bottom further for me. She wanted more stroking and soothing, but more than that as well. Her thighs were as far apart as she could manage, her pussy wet and undeniably wanting.

She’d been close to orgasm for most of her punishment, and though those six last strokes had been challenging they hadn’t overridden the sex, the need of it. So I coated and rubbed her bottom, not gently but firmly, and she gave herself into my hands, sometimes sighing with the sensations she was processing.

At last I touched her pussy again, thumb inside a wet, sopping girl, and my palm against her clitoris. It took her a minute to find her place, where she’d been before the last six strokes, and another thirty seconds of writhing on my hand before she stopped suddenly. I said, “Jennifer, it’s all right, you can come now.”

Her scream was louder than the loudest noise she’d made while being punished. I kept working my thumb and palm. In another minute she came again, at the same intensity. Then her head dropped, hitting the table audibly.

I kept on stroking her, but she was done for now, and exhausted. I let her lie across my desk for a minute, then patted her bottom. Jennifer was extremely sensitive, after eighteen of the best with the slipper, but she was unable to feel any touch as pain. Everything, it seemed, was dreamily erotic.

I said, “Jennifer, I’m going to pick you up. So I have to roll you over.” That was to let her know what I was doing. She was incapable of helping, for the time being. So I rolled her onto her back, and put my arms under her shoulders and the backs of her thighs, and lifted.

I carried her to the leather arm chair and sat down, holding her cradled in my arms. She looked at me with a slight smile, so I kissed her. I hadn’t expected her to respond but she did, not urgently but lovingly. I said, “Maddie, bring a blanket.”

Maddie nodded and opened the door into the storeroom. While she was gone I looked down at Jennifer, naked, dreamy, and beautiful in my arms. “How’s your bottom?”

She pulled a face and then smiled. “It’s weird. I know it’s sore, and very hot. But it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the slippering you gave me yesterday. In fact I’m not even sure that it hurt at all. It’s warm. And it sort of buzzes. But it’s like it’s got a hotline to my cunt. Oh! I shouldn’t say that word! Sorry, sir.”

I smiled. “I don’t think you’ve got room for any more smacks just at the moment. But use language like that again, and I’ll punish you.”

“Can I say pussy? Because I stroke it sometimes.” She looked at me, suddenly pretending to be shy. “And so do you.”

Masturbation Monday: Fairness takes two, or possibly three

Jayavardhini was pleased with the effect of her teasing, and held the sarong in front of her body, as if protecting her modesty. Chetana was barely managing not to laugh. She said, to Philip, “Jayavardhini needs a spanking. Don’t you think?”

Philip looked up at Jayavardhini. She widened her eyes again, trying to convey shocked innocence. That cock moved upwards for a second, of its own accord, then levelled at her again.

But he said, “Oh, no. I think a spanking would hardly be fair. Jayavardhini, take that ridiculous sarong right off, this instant, and come here.”

Jayavardhini thought it was a pity about the spanking but she let the sarong fall to the floor and stepped towards the bed anyway.

Philip gathered her in his arms, the first time so much of their skin had touched, and pulled her halfway onto the bed, her feet a little off the floor, her ass at the edge of the bed. She turned her face to his, and he kissed her. 

His beard was growing. It was the first time she’d kissed a bearded person in at least a couple of years.

She’d heard, in Chetana’s emails, that Philip had been notoriously unkempt, always with a few days’ scruffy facial hair, on the dock, where she’d arrived only days before departure. But on board the Jagannath, and presumably the other ships, shaving involved using drinking water if you wanted suds, and being brave enough to trust your skin with a straight razor.

Jayavardhin’s pubic hair had had two weeks’ growth since the ships had left the Kiltan Lagoon dock, so she couldn’t blame him.

She shook her head. She said, “You’re a hairy man. I guess I’ll have to get used to that.” She kissed him again, and this time he took the kiss seriously. Their lips touched, then tongues and teeth. Philip focussed his attention on her while Chetana watched them, smiling.

Eventually Jayavardhini tried to wriggle up the bed towards him, but he put his hand on the small of her back and held her in her slightly undignified position.

She gazed at him, a little puzzled. “Philip?”

But Philip was looking at Chetana. “As I was going to say, this girl needs two spankings. Just one wouldn’t be fair at all.” Jayavardhini shook indignantly, though making sure she didn’t break his grip. “Have you spanked her before?”

Sinful Sunday: A severe lesson, but not the right one

Six, thank you, Master!

Now! Girl, I am sick of these last-minute panics! Are you going to get your next essay in on time?

Well, maybe, Master. I can only see what happens… 

Ah fuck! You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you? 

Mmmm maybe a bit…

All right. [Picks up cane again.] I think we can fix that. Don’t move. 

[But pleasure persists, the way grass can break concrete. He tried, but he didn’t fix that. Not at all.]

Should there be a higher age of consent for taking part in bdsm than for other sex?

Consent is the key to bdsm. Consent is the difference between bdsm and assault, just as it’s the difference between lovemaking and rape. Still, “consent” isn’t always easy to define. For example, anyone who has given consent because their judgement is impaired by an intellectual disability, a psychiatric condition, or because they are too drunk or drugged to know what they are doing, is not considered to have consented in legal terms, or in the ethical codes recommended by most bdsm organisations.

BDSM is very alert to consent issues, partly because we need to make consent very explicit and specific, to avoid submissive coming to harm by being pushed into practices they didn’t really consent to.

And partly, I think, because we – I think; I’m just guessing, extrapolating from myself – find the gestures and words of consent are sexy in their own right.

The words “I want it”, which are sometimes pronounced, “punish me; I deserve it”, are some of the sexiest sounds in the universe, round my way.

Age of consent laws

Most governments specify a minimum age at which a young person is considered able to consent to sexual activity. The age varies from one legal system to another. It’s 16 where I live, and 20 where the poor South Koreans live. 

Look, Helen Mirren once starred in a film called “Age of Consent”, and spent a lot of screen time being naked.
So this is a relevant, non-gratuitous illustration. Really!

People sometimes argue for higher minimum ages of consent for various kinds of minority sexual activity. Like there used to be – probably still are, in some places – discriminatory age of consent laws for gay sex compared to heterosexual sex. So that a young woman can use her cunt as she sees fit from 16, while a young man who is gay (also his lover) would have to wait till the young man was 18 before his asshole was legally, um, accessible. 

I’ve sometimes heard that bdsm should have a discriminatory age of consent. When a 16 year-old girl or boy says, “Whip me, Master, or as the case may be, Mistress”, does that 16 year-old know what they are doing? 

I think the answer is “probably not, not really, in most cases”. But I think the same is true of sexual intercourse, and there are good reasons why we allow kids to make their own mistakes and their own successes, from around that time.

Oddly, although most legislators are likely to find a minor’s participation in bdsm more alarming than intercourse, many bdsm activities may not be covered by age of consent laws because there may be no genital contact of any kind, or even undressing. However, other laws, for example the lesser charge of indecency to a minor, would presumably apply, and anyone who fell foul of those laws would be unlikely to get much sympathy from a jury, or (not that it matters) from me. 

Anyway, I don’t think the consequences of bad sexual intercourse choices are actually less significant than those of bad bdsm choices. In sexual intercourse potential bad consequences include pregnancy, getting raped after withdrawing consent, falling in love with a bad, destructive person, disease, and so on. The consequences of bad bdsm choices, especially submissive choices, overlap with those, except that there is probably less risk of pregnancy or disease, and higher risk of being pushed into scenarios harder and faster than they should. 

But consequences like rape and, say, a spanking that expands into a serious assault, are already covered by the law: they are illegal regardless of the age of the victim, and therefore not really relevant to discussions about ages of consent.  

Did I mention that”Age of Consent”  film with Helen Mirren? (Based on a Norman Lindsay novel, it’s a better film than you’d expect from the title.)

I suspect the idea that kinky sex leads to greater harm is partly based on simple distaste for kinky sex, and not on objectively thinking about consequences. 

There’s also a principled objection to having discriminatory age of consent laws, which is that they are discriminatory.

More importantly, perhaps, there are practical objections. There’s no age of consent that fits the individual circumstances of every young person. We have to accept that the law is only trying to set out a general protective principle without stopping young people from experimenting and experiencing.

A government that issued a range of different consent ages for different sexual activities would make lawyers rich but have no effect on what young people do.

Information for young people is the best protection.

Disclaimer

This is what I think, at the moment, from first principles. I’m open to argument, either way. 

Wicked Wednesday: Obedience, discipline and lotion for Jennifer

A moment later, and Jennifer was again displayed, bent over my desk, naked, her hands held tight by Maddie, in the primal submissive position for discipline or sexual use.

I pressed my sipper against the fullest part of her bottom, and delivered the first stroke, lusty and hard, almost immediately. Jennifer took that one with a grunt, but no scream.

I said, “Now, Miss Perch, it’s time you learned that when I give you an order…”

The second stroke was delivered hard and fast, and delivered to her right cheek. Jennifer waggled her bottom frantically from left to right, the pain clinging to her. She made a high-pitched sound, not a scream, but a musical note.

“I do not–“

The third smack impacted hard and hot on her left side, and Jennifer screamed.

Maddie said, “Tears now, Master.”

“Want questions or complaints from you–”

On the fourth hard stroke, on her right buttock, Jennifer screamed again, her body rocking involuntarily in that ancient dance that punished girls performed for their disciplinarians.

Maddie had to concentrate and use all her force to hold the girl down and in position.

“I want obedience.” Her bottom was a moving target now. I caught her left buttock with the slipper as it rose; the impact sound filled the room. Jennifer wailed and shouted wordlessly. She had not stopped her vocal noises since the fourth stroke.

“You will learn to do as you are told.” The sixth stroke landed across the centre of her weaving and ducking bottom, again catching it on the rise. Jennifer’s song of pain barely changed.

She was already in a world of sensation that was partly but not entirely painful, and she’d stopped reacting much to individual spanks.

I could slipper Jennifer for another hour when she was like this, and though it would raise blisters on her bottom, which I did not want, she wouldn’t really notice. It’d make little difference to her mental state.

I said, “Lotion”, to Maddie, and she passed it. I spread it across Jennifer’s bottom, while she was still rocking up and down in a parody of sexual motion. I said, very quietly, “Good girl, Jennifer, you’re done now. You’ve been very good, and good girls do get looked after.”

She made an appreciative noise as my fingers slid and stroked her. Goosebumps rose on her bottom when I let my fingertips touch her pussy. It was, I thought, time to take Jennifer’s education one step further.

Masturbation Monday: The only monogamist in the room

Philip had just explained to Chetana that she was mostly responsible for the renewal of his erection. She kissed him. “Even that was enough of an admission. But it’s okay, Philip. Really it is. You were nice about it, Jayavardhini says, when it was obvious she and I had been fucking. You were very nice to me, too.”

She saw Philip smile, remembering. Then he looked serious. “But you’re my woman. She – You are wonderful, Jayavardhini. But she is not my woman.”

Philip was thinking of turning this down.

“Philip, you’re the only monogamist in this cabin. And your cock is telling me you’re not going to stay monogamous for very long, now. Jayavardhini wants you. And she wants me. And I want you. And her. And cocks don’t lie. I happen to know for a fact that you want her as well as me.”

Jayavardhini saw doubt in his eyes. He was working up to sending her away. “Philip, what Chetana said is true. About me wanting you. And I want Chetana. We could discuss this. Or we could test it. But I don’t believe you want to keep me out of this bed.”

Chetana said, “You’re right about wasting time, Jayavardhini. Come to bed.”

Jayavardhini smiled, happy. Philip had not taken his eyes off her since Chetana had given her blessing. She took the first step towards them, shaky with triumph. Philip said, “No.”

It was as if he’d hit her, the wrong kind of blow. “Philip? Why?”

Then she saw his eyes, amused but also drawn. “You’re not naked. Get that sarong off and then come here.”

“You’re a bad man.”

“And you’re a bad girl.” He withdrew from Chetana very slowly and turned to watch Jayavardhini. His cock, half hard, glistened in the candlelight, wet with Chetana’s fluids.  

Jayavardhini knew a way to do _everything_ minxishly

Jayavardhini turned her back, and began to lift the sarong. She slowed its ascent as it reached her upper thighs, lifting it in microscopic degrees as she got to her ass. Behind her she heard Chetana laugh. Philip wasn’t laughing. She imagined him watching, entranced. She hoped his cock was getting harder, even though he’d just come.

No, she was confident she had that power over him.

But he was silent while she slowly raised the sarong to her waist. Then he made a throaty noise of appreciation. She said, “If you’re not hard for me when I turn round, I’m leaving.”

Chetana laughed again. Jayavardhini turned, holding the sarong just above her navel. His cock pointed fatly at her. “Oh. Well, I suppose I’ll stay, then.”

Sinful Sunday: Something to wake up to

One girl, sleeping. A bit after valentines day, as it happens. (I don’t think either photographer or lovely model care about Mr Valentine and his hallmark cards.)

Her admirer, photographer and self-labeled Master watches over her and waits. He’s feeling very tender. 

But when she awakes all those emotions will turn fiercer, more urgent. The only thing ‘tender’ will be her…

 

E[lust] 115: Hot reads! From the warm, pink heart of the net!

Elust 115 Header Image of Kaetteroo in a steamy mirror nude

Photo courtesy of Katteroo

Welcome to Elust 115

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

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Abstinence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Your Loss

Ask for It

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Two Explorers

Sweet Child of Mine

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

{Na}Scent Traces

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

The Long Shadow
Asleep on the job
Self-care: am I dating myself?
Love, Lust & Living with the Man of my Dreams

Erotic Non-Fiction

The Space Between
Australia Day Bukakke
In Her Panties
Sensuality and the senses
Happy New Year
Technical Sex: Control
Give and take

Erotic Fiction

Brat
Worth the Trouble
Panty Thief
Twisted Fairy Tale #4 Hans & Greta
PJ’s Horseshoe
I Lay Beside You

Poetry

The Rider

Body Talk and Sexual Health

What is normal?
Less Sex, Less Drive

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Not Micromanaging My Pleasure
The bdsm baby blues
Meeting a sub… or not

Writing About Writing

5 Things to Do When You Feel Overwhelmed

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

UK law removes anti-bdsm rules

Elust

Wicked Wednesday: Exercise for bad girls

When Jenny had completed her squat thrusts, naked in my office, watched by Maddie and by me, I said, “Good girl, Jennifer. You need more exercise, though, don’t you?”

She blushed. “Yes, sir. I do.”

“I’ll have a calisthenics program drawn up for you. I’m sure the coach will supervise you.”

Maddie rolled her eyes. Jerry Manderson, the coach, was notorious for his “helpful” ways with attractive students. I’d restricted his use of corporal punishment to the paddle on clothed buttocks, but he found his opportunities. He wasn’t worried about either justice or consent, let alone enthusiasm. I was going to have to fire him.

Jennifer knew Mr Manderson, and didn’t want to be under his supervision. She said, “Sir, I know that he would be best to create a program. But… could you supervise me? I could do my exercises in your office while you… I mean while you worked. I promise I’d be no bother. Sir. Please?”

I thought about that. It was a powerfully attractive offer, of course. And if I left it to Manderson he would find ways of touching her belly, her bottom and her breasts while he helped her with her exercises. Unwillingness, even revulsion, was not a problem for him.

But an intelligent girl like Jennifer could gather the evidence that allowed me to get rid of him, despite his success in coaching team sports and getting parents on his side. But I couldn’t dump that assignment on her, unless she agreed. Nor could I talk to her about staff problems. Maddie could. But I’d have to discuss it with her before I did anything. 

My silence was making Jennifer worried. Eventually I said, “Yes, for the first couple of weeks. I don’t think you’ll be needing to bring any sports clothes.”

She missed the significance of my last remark, or she didn’t mind performing for me naked. “Thank you, oh thank you, sir!”

“After that we’ll see. My office is not a gym.”

She smiled suddenly. “It seems to be an office that has many different uses, sir.”  

“Indeed. And you’ve reminded me that you still have six strokes coming.” Her face fell. “To remind you not to question orders again. Bend over the desk again, Jennifer. As you were before, bottom arched up, legs apart, arms outstretched.”

“Sir.” Jennifer turned, stepped to the desk, placed her feet well apart, and lowered herself till her belly, breasts and her left cheek rested on the table.

I picked up the slipper. “Maddie, back in position, and take Jennifer’s hands.”