Bdsm and race 3

So, I’m standing there, a white guy with a history of different kinds of anti-racist activism, tediously well-meaning, with a riding crop in my hand and a black woman tied, helplessly, across a table. She’s already well welted from the crop. I suddenly became very self-conscious.

My first reaction was confusion: is this okay? Am I getting off on this race thing? Is this like playing “Jews and SS men”? I mean, I don’t think eroticising Nazi concentration camps should be illegal or anything, or even wrong, if the people involved are consenting, but I’d still find it pretty creepy.   

And then, because this isn’t a story about how wonderful I am, I’ll say that my second reaction was: Cool! The idea that Carol could have been a real slave, getting this whipping from her white Master, just 150 years ago: fuck the politics of it, that was hot. Sorry about that, but it’s what I felt.

So although she’d disobeyed no order, and as far as I could remember I’d given her none, I said, “You. Will. Do. As. You. Are. TOLD!” in the harshest voice I’d used with Carol, and lashed the crop down hard with every word. It hurt, and Carol howled. I gave her more, but that was my plantation owner moment, at least in my head.

Then I fucked her while she wriggled, without untying her.  

Later, when I’d untied Carol, and rubbed vitamin E cream over her ass, and we were comfortably snuggling, I considered whether to tell her what had passed through my head. It was why her whipping, and my cock, had got harder towards the climax. So she had a right to know. On the other hand, I expected her to be pissed at me. 

Anyway, I confessed.

Bdsm and race 2

The black woman – I’ll call her Carol, because I’m not going to keep calling her “the black woman” – had contacted me because she’d liked something I’d written. It wasn’t about race. I’d written a piece about being young and exploring bdsm desires and trying to find other perverts before you know what bdsm is, and how embarrassing you can be to yourself and others while you’re doing that. She’d thought it was funny, and she’d wanted to meet me.

So we found ourselves in a room together. We met a few times before she let me do impact play. She’d experienced real domestic violence, and she didn’t want to empower guys to hit her. So when we were together she obeyed orders, and got tied up. I told her stories while she masturbated and sucked my cock. Which didn’t improve the inventive quality of the stories, I’m afraid.

But she knew I was a spanker and a caner, a man who likes his impact play. After a few sessions she let herself get over my knee. I made sure she had a good time, because I wanted more. So we started slowly, with a lot of cunt stroking as well as smacking her bottom. But I gave her cunt a sharp smack when she said something cheeky. The noise she made told me that I’d done the right thing, so she got her cunt spanked nearly as often and as hard as her ass.

So I became the only man she’d let do this. The noise she made when I spanked her cunt, – a sweet, falling moan – that first time and every time since, meant that she got her cunt smacked often. At least as much as her ass. After I while I introduced her to my belt as well as my hand, and then to a riding crop. 

So we built up with time. Then, one evening, I had tied her naked and face down across a table, and I was whipping her bottom and thighs quite hard with a crop.

That was the moment when our actions, together, got close enough to evoke historical precedents, of the whipping of black slave women in American slavery. It put a shadow on what we were doing. I was a white man, I’d tied up a black woman, and I was whipping her.

Bdsm and race

I’m writing a long story about something stupid I did when I was a probation officer. In that story I dom two – consenting – Samoan women. I took a whip to one of them. 

When I say, “two Samoan women”, I don’t mean at the same time. That was never going to happen. Ana and I were probably up for it, but Sa’afia would have found the whole idea embarrassing: they were cousins, for god’s sake. Anyway, and leaving threesome fantasies out of this, my point is that there are a lot of people who’d be angry with all three of us, but especially me, because they were women of colour and I was a white man. With a whip.  

I’ve written about those scenes without worrying much about race, because it was never much of an issue for us in the moment, or afterwards.

I think one of the reasons that the race issue seemed to us mainly to be a matter of skin colour – we liked each other’s skin colour, and the contrast between us when we were naked – and not something more traumatic relates to Samoa’s history.

Samoans were never slaves (except that, in pre-European times, some Samoans were enslaved by Tongans, Fijians, and other Samoans). Later, the country was colonised, and that was a disaster for Samoa, with the worst villains being, unusually, the New Zealanders. They administered the Western islands from 1914 to 1962, and in 1918 they killed a fifth of the Samoan population by arrogant stupidity when they broke quarantine, letting a ship with flu victims aboard land at Apia. 

Mind you, exactly the same stupidity killed about the same proportion of New Zealanders when they did the same to their own country in 1918. But stupidity isn’t available as an excuse for the machine-gun massacre of unarmed and peaceful demonstrators in December 1929. The New Zealand Prime Minister formally apologised over that and the epidemic in 2006. It took them long enough. Normally I think New Zealand is a cool country, but that’s a pretty shameful record. 

But there’s no shame for Samoans in either story. They were exposed to a deadly disease by fools, and they bravely faced guns held by cowards. The shame’s all New Zealand’s. For the Samoans that history is justification for anger, and in practice an impressive level of forgiveness. 

So I could enjoy the differences of browner skin, flatter noses, and fuller lips, for what they were. Sa’afia and Ana could enjoy my pale skin against theirs and my – to them – skinny pointy nose.

Of course I had various kinds of power that they didn’t have, as a white male. I was never going to be harassed by police the way Ana was. Even Sa’afia, who was better educated and better able to set her own rules about how people would behave around her, had had bad experiences with LA’s finest. 

But I think we could take it so very easily and casually, our interracial dominance and submission, because there’s no history of slavery in Samoa. When I dommed them it didn’t echo any historical scene, anything that haunts the past and is still raw in the present.

But a couple of years ago, I played with a black American woman. And that turned out to be much more complicated. 

E[lust] 58

Elust #58

Photo courtesy of Pandora Blake

Welcome to Elust #58 

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

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Do NOT take my rapeplay fantasy away from me!

Pulp Fiction

“O” is for Outlaw No More

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

The Second Letter

The Wake

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!


Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Orgasm Denial Games and Ideas
What is “Normal,” Anyway?
Abject Submission 3: Only the Gift
Is All BDSM Sexual? #KinkySex
A new Dom asked me for advice
Let’s Talk Sex Stigma
What I want
On Being Submissive
Dildos in Wonderland – Fantasy Sex Toys

Sex News,Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

My sexual Assaults
Risky Business
What is feminist porn?
Butt Plug Weekend (Humor)
The Shaming of Slut Shaming
Do Bisexuals Need To Be More Upfront?
Why I Don’t Support CatalystCon

Erotic Non-Fiction

The ‘Good’ Girl vs The Whore – Marriage
Well Laid
The sheer poetry of pegging a homophobe
The Missouri Misery’s Maiden Voyage
On the Edge (Touch Your Cock for Me)
Parking On A Dirt Road
Masturbation: The Big Finish
The four-day orgasm
Dear lover

Writing About Writing

Imagining Disabled Characters in Erotica


Simple Needs – a Lusty Limerick

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

On Happiness and Risk
Sex addiction – a primer
More Than Bend Over Boyfriend Toys

Erotic Fiction

X marks the spot
Chain Links and the Rail Marshall
The Devil and the Golden Ring
A lonely day in Paradise
Mine Is Bigger Than Yours
Rub It Harder
Face Splash – Part 1
Stray Kat
Sneaky Sexy Snippet of A Work in Progress


56 posts later …


Probation Officer #223: A night with Ana 15

Ana looked at me querulously. A red stripe was forming down her left buttock. “What was that for?”

“Warning for you. If you let my cock slip out of your mouth before I’ve come, I’ll give you, I don’t know, a least a dozen before you get my cock back. Understood?”

“Um. Oh-kay…”

“And when I come, you’re going to..?”

“Swallow it all.”

“Good girl. Course you are. And if you didn’t, what would you get?”

“Your belt.” 

I lowered her head onto my cock. It was a perfect world, her mouth and tongue. We’d had a busy night, but this was the first time she’d had her mouth on my cock.

Except, maybe, for that night with Sa’afia. I shook my head. I didn’t know what had happened that night, and maybe I never would.

Ana looked up at me and smiled, keeping her mouth, technically speaking, on my cock. “Your belt across my bum. You’re a mean man.”

Ana brought her arms forward, resting her upper body on her elbows and caressing the shaft of my cock with her fingers, while her lips took care of the head. Her mouth was still slightly cool from the ice-cream. I said, “That’s right.”  


Probation Officer #222: A night with Ana 14

Ana had cushions under her hips, keeping her ass in the air. Her hands were tied behind her back, with my belt. She could probably get out of that, if she tried. It was the position she’d been in when we’d last fucked. That was about midnight. It was one in the morning. 

I was feeding her strawberries and ice-cream – with my hands – and she was hungry, so she had no reason to try to move. All good things were coming to her.  

We hadn’t stopped to have dinner, and now we weren’t going to. Eventually she finished the plate I’d brought her. I said, “good girl.” I’d checked with her, that she liked being told she was good, when she was. She was good, when she wanted to be, and she liked my approval. 

I held her wineglass – filled with water, now – to her lips and tilted. Ana drank. Eventually she nodded her head, so that water spilled down over the pillow. I smacked her bottom, because of the spillage, and then gave her my hand to lick clean.

She spent a long time on my fingers, once she’d got the white mess of my palm. There was symbolism going on there. Ana was demonstrating a skill.

I said, “All right.” I reached over and undid the belt, freeing her hands. Ana made a small protesting noise. She’d liked being tied. I said, “you’ll need your hands.”


I put my knees on the pillow, on either side of Ana’s face. I took a handful of hair and pulled her head up. Ana opened wide, without being told. But I smacked her bottom with the belt anyway. Hard enough to fill the room with impact noise and make her left buttock shake. 

Probation Officer #221: A night with Ana 13

A little later I knelt between Ana’s thighs. Ana took my cock in her hand as I lowered myself onto her body, and squeezed me hard enough to make me gasp before she guided me into her.

cock in cuntThough we wanted to merge, it was our first time and it had to be savoured. I stopped, just inside her, because this was a moment.

I looked down at Ana. She was darkly golden, rounded and firm, and she was looking back up at me. I can’t possibly have been as beautiful to her as she was to me, but she liked what she saw.

That mystified me, made me think I was getting away with something. But I forget that miracle a second later, as I always do, and I moved forward, taking a few more centimetres of her. Ana closed her eyes. I watched her mouth settle into what looked like a relaxed and forgiving half smile, and I felt a moment of absurd cock pride. (“This cock is making you happy. And, girl, I got more. Wait till you have all of it. Hey!” Well, I told you it was absurd.)

I’d paused, and then slipped in a little further into warm wetness. Ana shook her head gently. She said, “Oh, this is so about time.” She sounded smug.  

It’d been about eleven months, from the first time Ana and I had desired each other to this moment. That thought reminded me that there had been and still were good reasons for not fucking Ana. I said nothing, but moved forward again. Her cunt was honeyed, it held me, it was heaven. Our pubic bones touched.

All of my cock was in her. I could feel my glans pressing up against her cervix. We should be careful about that, and we wouldn’t be. We’d fuck as hard as we could, I knew that.

Ana reached up and touched my face, then put her hands above her head, reaching back for something to hold onto. She found the end slats of my bedhead and held them. I could imagine, for the time being, that her body was mine.

I moved in her. Ana sighed again. I stopped having thoughts. 

Probation Officer #220: A night with Ana 12

I finished taking my pants off, and then put my knees on the edge of the bed. I leaned forward and put my hands under Ana’s ass, and lifted her a few centimetres. 

Ana made a little strangled noise. I suppose she may have thought I intended to use my belt on her inner thighs. I edged further forward, pulling her down the bed so that my face and her cunt met like a greedy man and a quarter of watermelon. Ana snorted through her nose when my tongue entered her, and her head fell back onto the bedcovers. 

lickFor a while she lay passive while I tongued her, and it wasn’t until she began to make answering micro-movements of her hips that I rewarded her by putting two knuckles inside her cunt, and concentrated my tonguing on and around her clitoris. With that she wax roused and rutting, fucking my face with some desperation and determination.

Shj\e made the sound of a woman yowling with a leather belt in her mouth. I stayed with her while her movements sped up, and her stomach muscles tightened, and the yowling intensified, and took a questioning tone. I realised, when everything seemed to be moving fast and wetly all around me, that I’d told her not to come without permission, and also that I’d told her not to speak.

I said, “Yes, little Ana love, yes, of course you – ”

That was all I needed to say on that topic. Ana’s thighs closed on my face, held me hard and then opened as wide as she could. I put my hands back under her buttocks and squeezed as hard as I could, meaning to hurt her a little. Her orgasm was muffled by the belt, but it shook her hard.

Ana lay back, puffing, with her mouth open, and the belt staying in place because of gravity more than anything else. Still, it hadn’t left her mouth.  I kissed sweet skin just beside her cunt. I grinned, immensely pleased with her. “Good girl.”

Probation Officer #219: A night with Ana 11

“In case you don’t behave.” 

Ana frowned, looking up at me, then at the belt, then at me. Eventually she nodded. She believed that if she displeased me I’d strap her, and for the time being she thought that was sexy, if not exactly reasonable. Sex is strange, and so is politics.

When I’d thrown the belt I hadn’t meant much by it – when you take off a belt it has to go somewhere – but Ana had made it an item with meaning. So I had to come up with a use for it, short of walloping her with it. 

I said, “Take the belt and hold it in your mouth. Still folded. Like a dog fetching a leash.”

Ana complied. It took her a couple of tries, but she found it easier once I told her she wouldn’t need to speak.  

“Good girl. Now, would you like a really hard whipping, one that’s no fun at all?” 

Ana’s eyes were wide, and she shook her head emphatically, the buckle rattling as it waggled from side to side. 

“Good choice. Then don’t let the belt slip out of your mouth. And don’t bite on it. No toothmarks, or I’ll be … cross. It stays in your mouth until I need it, or I say you can take it out. Understood, girl?”

Ana’s mouth worked for a second, before she remembered to nod rather than try to speak. I smiled at her. “Good girl. Now spread your legs.” 

Probation Officer #218: A night with Ana 10

Eventually she turned her head to look up at me. “My god. Fuck. What the hell was that?”

I didn’t answer, because there were things I could say about what had happened, but they were technical, boring and out of place. Instead I pulled at her right hip. She understood and turned, so she sprawled face up in my lap, though we were still a shambles.

carryI gathered her up in my arms, and she put her arms round my neck and said, “carry, carry” while I took her to my bed, and deposited her onto her back.

She looked up at me, only raising her head. “God, you’re still dressed. Hadn’t you better..?”

“Ah.” I took off my tie and worked my way down my shirt buttons.

She watched me with apparent critical interest, her spirit returned. She was trying to make me feel uncomfortable.

I undid my pants and took my belt off, looking back at her. I folded the belt double, and tossed it so it lay beside her. She regarded it with the wariness with which she might look at a snake.