Vampire girl #20

The previous episode is here.


But the next lash landed near that first stroke, on the softer flesh of her thigh. I would whip Diane’s cunt one day, but not now, not here. To compensate for what she might think of as mercy, I made this stroke harder, and her whole body shuddered when the switch bit home. I had to put my arm round her belly, holding on to her while she shook and fought to steady herself, still grinding her ass against me while the pain sunk in. She sang that low, “ooooooooo” again, and looked at me, her eyes shining with tears under the moon.

I smiled at her. “You’re beautiful.” It was true. Submission, when it comes, is so profoundly right and satisfying. It’s beautiful and moving.  She’d found her way to the sex of this, and to part of herself that answered part of me. Her thigh must have been burning but her hand still worked, stroking herself. I kissed one tear away from her cheek, tasting the salt of my girl’s pain, but I let the others run their glistening moonlit trails.

Diane’s hips still shook, her movements forced by the grip of the pain, but eventually she was able to relax. She leaned back, her left leg still bent and raised, letting me take her weight.

She took a breath, and then another before she could speak. “Oh, you’re cruel. You’re a cruel man. How can you be so cruel?”

I said, “You can put your foot down now.” She obeyed carefully, standing with her legs apart, not letting her thighs touch. I put my hand back on her hand, which still stroked busily in her cunt. Her inner thighs were wet. I patted my sopping girl, affectionately, then took her left breast and squeezed the nipple. She made a version of her pain song, but it was not pain. She liked having her nipples hurt.

So I pulled that nipple, then turned it a little, and squeezed it again, even harder. Diane had closed her eyes, and her breathing was fast and shallow. Her hand still worked at her cunt, and she was close to coming. I said, “cruel to be kind. Cruel because you need a cruel man. Don’t you?”

“Yes. Oh fuck yes.”

“That’s right. Now, don’t come until I’ve finished whipping you, Diane. That’s an order. Now get your right knee up. Quickly.” 


The next episode is here.

Bdsm and vanilla consent #4

 Sometimes, you might happen to be the first person to encourage a lover to try mild bondage, say, or mild pain, or a slave game where they give the orders, or they have to do as they’re told. You don’t think you’re putting them at any real risk. 

No-one is likely to come to any harm having their wrists tied to a bed, or from finding out that their lover likes to be tied up. Same with spanking or being spanked. Don’t dive straight into the deep end, and you’ll be fine. Get your asses into the shallow end, and start paddling. (Yeah, ha ha.)

But there is a risk for newcomers to bdsm, even mild bdsm. It’s not about welts; it’s about self-knowledge. Someone who finds out that he or she likes to inflict pain or to suffer it, or to bind their lover or be tied up, or to command or be commanded, or any combination, may not welcome that self-discovery.

There’s a sort of standing bdsm joke about the woman who’s always thought of herself as a feminist, but finds that she really likes being spanked.

There’s another one, which – unfairly – usually gets a more sympathetic hearing. That’s the man who thinks of himself as a decent guy, sympathetic to feminism and absolutely horrified by domestic violence. But he discovers that he not only enjoys spanking that woman; he really wants to take his belt to her ass each time she gags while she’s sucking his cock. With her hands tied behind her back. Um, so long as he does it nicely.

And it’s hard enough for women who discover submissive desires, and men who find out that they’re doms. (And yes, of course consensual bdsm is compatible with feminism, but that’s not our argument, just now.) Women who find that their desires are mostly dominant and men who discover their sexual submissiveness can have an even harder road to travel before they get to self-acceptance. 

We’ve been asking why consent is such a big issue in bdsm, compared to the vanilla world, so that bdsm consent has to be explicit, it has to be informed, and it should be prior consent, given before the lust gets into the driver’s seat?

Another possible answer is that people learn things about themselves when they first discover the desire to do things that generally labelled as bdsm. They may not always welcome that self-learning, or be able to handle what they find.

That old command, “Know thyself”, can be fucking dangerous advice. 

Vampire girl #19

The previous episode is here.


Diane waited, with her ass pressed against me and her left leg raised, presenting her left thigh. She knew I was about to whip her, which is an interesting thing for a girl to know, just before it actually begins. She’d said she was ready, in a voice of helium, and while I might doubt that she really was ready, making her wait wasn’t going to make it any easier or her any readier.

I’d decided that she didn’t want me to go easy on her. Neither of us knew if she would enjoy this, be able to turn the pain into sex and pleasure, or even whether she’d find it too much to bear, and cry off. But she’d said she was ready to be whipped. I wasn’t going to insult her by faking it.

So I swung the switch medium hard, making it whistle in the air. It whipped vertically across the fleshiest part of her inner thigh, about a dozen centimetres from her cunt, with a sound like a green stick being snapped. The woody centre of the switch landing, mixed with the several impacts of the surrounding leafy twigs.

Diane’s right hand clenched, and she bucked her ass to shake off the pain. Her thigh shook like sour cream, partly from the impact, partly from her attempt to ride out the pain. The path of the switch declared itself in dark pink, a grey shadow in moonlight, that bloomed and formed into a welt. Her skin was very soft; she marked easily. She breathed out, a long, contralto note: “ooooooo.”

I released her cunt and captured her clenched right hand, guiding it back between her legs. I put my hand over the back of hers, and pressed hard. I felt her fingers start to move under my hand, slipping into wetness, pleasuring herself. Her movements when she masturbated were faster and rougher than I’d been.

I said, “You’re a good girl, Diane. And that was very brave. Now hold still.”

I lashed her again, a little closer to the busy fingers in her cunt. She stiffened, not moving for several seconds, before her breath came again in that low contralto moan. That was her pain song. I’d heard it twice and already I loved it.

Teasing, I touched the switch just beside her fingers, as if the next lash would go even closer to her lips. Diane’s eyes widened. “Please, no, not…”

“Shhh. Not up to you. Don’t speak.” 


The next episode is here.

What’s e[lust]?

e[lust]: ah yes, a good hot cup of tea, and then a nice lie down

One of my pieces, Vampire girl #14, has been selected in the erotic anthology e[lust]. 

I’ve posted e[lust]’s table of contents below. You can use it to go back to the sexy brilliance that is Vampire girl #14, and then on to the other stories, thought pieces, and so on. There’s a lot to read and enjoy, so have a look through the links!

e[lust] #41

Welcome to e[lust] – 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 e[lust].  Want to be included in e[lust] #42? Start with the newly updated rules, come back December 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

The 2 weeks of my sex life I lost to Zoloft – “My G-spot felt non-existent. My clit felt numb. The masturbation didn’t hold my interest, and my mind wandered.”

Baby Girl – “You fill me with a desire to learn so that I can teach you. I push you to trust yourself as I trust you.”

Denial – ““Not yet,” he says, pulling both of my arms back, leaving my clit screaming for attention.”

~ e[lust] Editress ~

 Dangerous Lilly

~ Featured Post (Lilly’s Pick) ~

Thoughts: Contractual Considerations

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Challenging Sexy
Open Me Up
How this blog started
Speaking of NRE

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

How to Pack for a Con
Rape Culture Rant
The Female Orgasm: A Brief History, Part 1

Kink & Fetish

Ball Gag Safety For Beginners
Choose one word to describe yourself
Drawing out hurt
Dirty, Nasty, Perfect
Evolution of a new fetish: veiling erotic
It was always a trap…
The Panty Loan
Watersports: Not As Easy As It Sounds

Erotic Writing

A Writing Challenge – Blindfold
about to be devoured
Blow Me Away
Girls’ Night Out
Hot Girls with Gay Bodyguards
Leaving You Wasted!
Lolita Twenty-Twelve, Part Sexeh and Sexbee
Vampire girl #14

Bdsm and vanilla consent #3

There’s a legal case that began earlier this year. It’s kind of trivial, but anything involving a Disney employee being sued for spanking-related sexual harassment is noteworthy.It’s just a shame that it doesn’t involve one of the guys in the mouse costumes.

Anyway, Kellie Rodriguez, is suing the comedian Ron Pearson, for sexual harrassment.

She alleges that she was in the studio audience for a Disney show, where Pearson was the warm-up act. She says he’d been checking her out before the show, and when there was a segment for audience participation he made sure she was called. While she was up on stage, he spanked her bottom repeatedly (while she was standing with her back to him) and then kissed her. She alleges.

I’m not commenting on the case itself.

But what strikes me as interesting is that Ms Rodriguez is alleging two kinds of non-consensual sexual assault. One, the kissing, we’d call vanilla, or “not bdsm”. The other, the spanking, we’d say was very light bdsm. Of the two, it’s the (alleged) kissing that she says affected her more, because her children, who were in the audience, saw a strange man kissing their mother and were upset because they couldn’t understand what was going on. 

I had been thinking – Greedo aaargh made the same point, in his comment on Vanilla and bdsm consent #1 – that the standards of consent in bdsm are so much higher because what’s at stake in bdsm is greater. That is, there are more risks, especially for the submissive, in bdsm sex than in “vanilla” sex.

But that isn’t necessarily true.

In most bdsm no-one is really hurt. A rope mark from bondage or a blushing bottom from a spanking may not last as long as a vanilla love bite.  Getting kissed in front of your family could (again, not referring to the Disney case)  have greater consequences for your life than spending an evening chained to your bed.

The emotional consequences of fucking someone can be more important and have greater potential for benefit or harm, than the emotional consequences of spending a night as that person’s slave, but without intercourse.  

So the comparative riskiness of vanilla and bdsm sex is one issue in why the standard of consent is higher for bdsm than for other kinds of sex. But it can’t be the only issue. 

Pool stripes

I once agreed not to cane a woman because she was going swimming the next morning and she didn’t want to show the marks.  

We found other things to do.  But ever since I’ve regretted being such a softie. She said it’d be humiliating and she hated humiliation. “Oh, okay,” I’d said kindly.  Now I think of Brer Rabbit and the briar patch: “oh, please don’t mark me.”

I should never have let that poor girl go to the pool, unstriped. She’d have hated the stripes, all wriggling and blushing, and she’d have come back wet as the pool.If there was a real problem she could have worn a more modest bikini.

Doms don’t always read it right, when a submissive gives them what they probably think is a signal.

Well, I don’t, anyway. 

I’m working. Proper service resumes tomorrow.

Bdsm and vanilla consent #2

So … in vanilla sex you can do something like push a woman’s skirt out of the way, or slip your hand between her thighs, based solely on the fact that she’s been looking at you, closely, for longer than half an hour.

Well, eye contact plus you’ve been agreeing with each other through that time (“I hate people who ironically pretend to like Glee”, “oh god yes, it’s still boring as a dog’s arse even after you’ve put quote marks around it”), about stuff you’d think was incredibly inane if it werent for all the eye contact. Or having fun disagreeing, with lots of animation and preening and all the rest of it. 

So, eye contact and preening is accepted as consent for actions that, if you guess wrong, would be a serious sexual assault. I’m cool with this, by the way. I’m just pointing it out. 

But in bdsm the rules on consent are much more rigorous. I felt great about sliding Diane’s skirt up for her, but I’d felt bad about asking for consent to reward and punish her after she was already turned on, because that conversation should have been held between two calm people.

So there’s a double standard. For vanilla sex, consent doesn’t have to be explicitly spoken, and for bdsm, mere explicitly spoken consent isn’t enough. There are also rules about how and when you should go about getting that consent.

I’m working for money today, so I’ll have to think about this tomorrow. 

Vanilla and bdsm consent #1

Back at the start of the Vampire girl saga (Vampire Girl #1, obviously), I mentioned how, only an hour or so after Diane and I had met for the first time, I’d slid her skirt up to her waist – on the left side, anyway – in a bar.

I didn’t ask her for permission, because if you slide a woman’s skirt up to a socially risky extent then it’s sexy if she likes it but creepy if she doesn’t. But asking first is never sexy. I decided it was worth the risk.  

Turned out that Diane thought it was hot, and I still think, looking back, that it was a cool thing to do. Which is good. If I join together all the time in my life during which I’ve clearly and unequivocally been cool, it probably adds up to about half an hour.  

II did it because by then I was pretty sure we were going to fuck, though we’d only just met. It felt like time to make a move, and I thought Diane’d like a direct one.

If I’d guessed wrong Diane would have called me a dickhead, and tugged her skirt back down while giving me the look you’d give a fried egg with a cigarette butt in it.

And told me to calm the fuck down: jeez. And finished her drink and left. Diane had a good line in withering contempt, and she relied on that to put down most male bad behaviour. It would have worked on me. No matter how many years passed, I’d still be making a sob-of-embarrassment noise any time I suddenly found myself remembering it. If it had failed. 

But pushing her skirt up worked, so therefore it was cool. Because it was a vanilla sex thing and not a bdsm sex thing, it was okay to do it without getting consent first. You find out if you’ve got consent by doing it and seeing if you get knocked back.

But you’d never take that approach in bdsm. It’s interesting, isn’t it?

Sacramentalized sodomy

One of the pleasures of watching the US election was watching the hacks pretending it was going to be close, and the Romney cheerleaders trying to convince themselves their man was going to win. I’m as excited by Obama as I’d be by any moderately competent centre-right politician who isn’t actually insane. That is, I’m glad he beat Romney, but beyond that it’s business as usual.

However, since then there’s been the meltdown from the religious right, who feel disappointed by the lack of respect they got at the ballot box. Now that has been exciting. My favourite dummy-spit is from a guy called George Weigel, in the National Review. It’s wonderfully sexual and self-revealing.

Those who booed God, celebrated an unfettered abortion license, canonized Sandra Fluke, and sacramentalized sodomy at the Democratic National Convention have been emboldened to advance the cause of lifestyle libertinism through coercive state power.

I like Weigel’s leap from typing “sacramentalized sodomy” to thinking of “lifestyle libertinism” being forced on him through “coercive state power”. He’s got his eyes shut and he’s waiting.

It looks like a suppressed gay thing, though that’s a cliche, of course. I suppose it’s just something that springs to mind whenever homophobic Christian Republicans say something more than usually weird. But the bit about him being coerced into libertinage by the state (perhaps by guys in sharp black uniforms?) should be pinging the radars of gay doms in particular.