Doctor Lamb: such a reassuring name…
Sex and discipline is a match made in heaven.
The next few posts will talk about that intersection.
Discipline and sex
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Category Archives: Implements
“Sexless” discipline, denial and abuse
It seems that when you have supposedly non-sexual bdsm, one of two things will happen. One option is that the rules will get broken, and the partners will eventually fuck, or at least start giving each other “relief”. So then it’s a sexual bdsm relationship, explicitly as well as covertly. I’d call that a happy ending, really.
A similar but less happy kind of boundary-breaking, from the supposedly disciplinary to the sexual, is also involved in many child sexual abuse incidents in schools and orphanages. Children raped by Catholic priests and lay brothers, for example, often were raped in a corporal punishment setting. Corporal punishment often happened away from the rest of the school or orphanage, with plenty of sound insulation. The basement, laundry or boiler room, for example.
That gave the adult privacy alone with the child, with a strong expectation that the child will unquestioningly obey, and that the adult is empowered to adjust or remove the child’s clothes, touch the child’s body and hurt the child. The stories now emerging from the victims of church institutions for children in Australia, Ireland, the United Kingdom, the United States and elsewhere are enraging and heart-breaking.
Parents should not tolerate corporal punishment in schools, in any country or state in which it currently exists.
Oh, this is not sexy. Not at all.
The second option is that the partners in this non-sexual discipline session stand up, with the man tucking his erection behind his belt and the woman patting down her hair, and they shake their hot damp hands and they go home.
But once they get home, they release their sexual arousal by masturbating, or they jump-fuck their regular partner.
Personally I’d never agree to a discipline-only relationship. If I discipline a woman I desire (and I’m not going to discipline a woman I don’t desire), then I’ll be looking at her body, touching her body, watching her, smelling her, knowing I’m arousing her, making her move and making her cry out. To do all that and then not follow up by consoling her cunt with a smack and some stroking, and then a hard fucking, would be torture. And I just hate torture.
Vampire girl #34
The previous episode is here.
Diane had waited long enough. She was tied securely, I’d warmed up her bottom and thighs with the strap. She was psychologically ready. There was only one person in the room who wasn’t ready. But I’d procrastinated enough.
I picked up the birch and held the twigs to Diane’s mouth. You can’t kiss a birch the way you kiss a strap or a cane, but she nuzzled amongst the twigs in a kissy way.
I said, “Good. Diane, you don’t have to count the strokes. You can cry out if you like. I don’t mind the neighbours knowing you’re getting a whipping. It’s up to you whether you mind.”
“Uh.”
“And if you run into problems, remember to say Alucard.”
“I won’t say it.”
“Well, it’s there if you want it. Turn your head and look at me.”
Diane turned her face so her left cheek rested on the blanket. Her eyes followed my every move.
I gave her a show, raising the birch above my shoulder, holding it for a few seconds. She kept her face blank, but I got alarm when I raised myself on tip-toes. Then I lashed it down.
The next episode is here.
Bling
The first time I saw an anal hook I was repelled. It’s a cold hard thing to put in a soft and vulnerable part of a woman’s body. That seemed wrong. Anal sex is intimate. Especially in dominance and submission.
Also, I wasn’t sure that I’d want a woman to be as unable to move – at least move her ass – as an anal hook will make her.
I had preferred a submissive woman to keep her ass where I tell her because she chooses to obey me. Not because she can’t choose. Not because she’s got a hook in her ass.
But … it’s a good piece of bling. In fact it’s quite elegant, isn’t it?
Vampire girl #28
The previous episode is here.
We reached Diane’s apartment and her door clicked behind us. We were in Diane’s world, or at least her living room, and the world was outside, far away. There was a couch, an armchair and a long low wooden coffee table.
I’d fucked her on each one of those items. And I’d burnt her knees on the carpet. So there was a sense that we were back in our proper place: a room we had sex in, and where Diane was often mildly and deliberately hurt. So Diane was under my direction in this room, and in my power. She hoped. She turned and looked at me. “Sir? Would you like me to take my shirt off?”
But I wasn’t quite in my place yet. I was just in over my head. Fortunately, a dom can always bluff. “When I tell you, Diane. First, that rope by your bed. Get it. Fetch it. Bring it here.” I smacked her thigh.
But Diane just looked confused, and held the bundle of switches out for a second, as if to offer them to me. Oh.“Yes, of course. Put the birch down first. Stupid girl.”
I smacked her thigh again, as though it was her fault that I’d given her an order I hadn’t thought through. It was unfair but Diane wanted me to be leading and in the right.
“Oh. Sorry, Sir.” Diane put her bundle of switches on the coffee table, frowning.
I caught most of her hair in one handful to pull her upright. I smacked her bottom twice, three times, and then kissed her. “Now go!”
I was still making this up as I went along, but I was starting to find the way forward. Diane went.
The next episode is here.
Roads less travelled: bzzzzzt
I’ve never been interested in electricity in a bdsm context.
It doesn’t seem personal enough. Left to myself, and finding myself with a clitoris, nipples and other sensitive body parts to play with, I want to do very low-tech, body-to-body things. A bite and a kiss, a smack, a twist, a squeeze followed by a harder squeeze; a harder smack. And so on.
But getting out the violet wand seems about as sexy as getting out the vacuum cleaner.
I suppose I’ll buy or borrow the gear, some time, because some submissive … Well, if they’ve been good, I’m susceptible to begging. But so far it’s never been something I’ve been drawn to.
Vampire girl #18
The previous episode is here.
I said, leaning forward against Diane’s ass, “That’s better.”
“Yeah, much better. You going to fuck me?”
“Pretty soon. But I promised you a whipping.”
“Well, you don’t have – “
“And you’re going to get whipped. You’ll be more fuckable afterwards. I promise. Now lift up your leg.”
“Huhn ?”
“Left leg. Get your knee up. Keep it wide.”
“Oh fuck.” But Diane obeyed. She raised and bent her knee, resting her foot on her right knee and leaning back against me for support.
I slipped the fingers of my right hand round and under her cunt, holding her tight. Then I gripped her, hard, until she grunted, not really in pain.
“Good girl. This is meant to hurt. You ready?”
“Jesus. Jesus fucking…” The voice in which she said, “yes” was half whisper and half squeak.
“Good. Now, I’m going to need you to keep still.”
I raised the switch.
The next episode is here.
Vampire girl #13
The previous episode is here.
Diane had said that vampires didn’t get whipped. I said, “Well, you do.”
“Well, I’m a vampire pervert. Um. Jaime?”
“Yeah?”
“Does it hurt? I mean, you’re going to make me bleed, with these.” She nodded at the bundle of switches in my hand. “That’s the idea, yes? Will it hurt?”
This is why we should have started this conversation earlier. I said, “truthfully, yes. But also not exactly. If you’re turned on and it’s all working, then it’ll hurt you a lot and it won’t hurt you at all. Like firewalking. Don’t stop and you’ll sail through unharmed. But: you’ve had someone bite you.”
“Mm.”
“Well, I don’t know what that’s like, but I think this could hurt about as much, but its more like a good pain. When it’s sexy it doesn’t hurt.”
“It’s not only biting. Sometimes vampires cut the skin and suck, if they don’t want to bite.”
“Yeah, well, that’s a vampire problem, I don’t care. When I’m birching you, the issues are going to be different. And if you find it’s too much, I don’t want to be doing something that’s no fun. The main thing there is: well, you’ve heard of safewords.”
“Yeah. If I say the safeword, then you stop, right?”
“That’s right. Well, your safeword is ‘monozygotic embryology.'”
“Mono-what? My safeword is WHAT?”
“Yeah, what I mean is: you don’t need to remember a magic word. In practice, if it’s not working for you, just tell me it’s too much, or it’s not sexy, and you want me to stop it. I don’t care what words you use, and I’ll stop. And if you want I’ll fuck you stupid instead. Okay?”
“Okay. I can say ‘psychotic embolism,” or whatever that was, but I can just say, ‘hey, this is no fun.’ Okay.”
We’d calmed down too much, with all this meta-talk. It was time to pick up the energy and the pace. “Good. I’m not going to talk about rules again. Take your shirt off.”
“What?”
“Take your fucking shirt off, right here, right now in this park. Strip. Now.”
The next episode is here.
Vampire girl #11
The previous episode is here.
It felt odd. I hadn’t asked Diane for consent before I’d told her I was going to whip her. It was hotter that way. But I did feel I had to ask, before I called her ‘good girl’.
But it’s not so odd really. Whipping may be more formal and controlled than a bite, or a lovers’ scratch, but like them it’s about sensation. It’s literally skin deep. But if I give orders and Diane gives obedience, that’s inescapably personal. We can pretend we haven’t noticed what we’re doing, what’s happening between us, but “good girl” destroys that pretence. If I praise her for her obedience and she likes that praise, then we both now that she’s not just being a vampire girl any more.
“Good girl” means she accepts that I judge her actions and she wants my approval. That’s more intimate, and takes more power from her, than any whipping. “Good girl” may be silly, it may be cliched, but it’s currency. Once we think it’s real, it’s real. And it has power.
I squeezed her bum, then, and let her feel my cock pressing against her belly. So she knew she was wanted. Most urgently wanted. “Good. Then the fact is, you’re a good girl. A very good girl.”
Sometimes instinct leads you right and true. I leaned down for another kiss, and Diane was starry at the eyes and her smile beaming.
I slipped my fingers out of her again, and pinched her lips until she squealed.
“Here, little good girl”, I said. I undid the tails of her shirt and flicked the material a couple of times, so she was covered again, a few inches of modesty at the tops of her thighs.
Diane smiled. “Thank you.”
“Now get me ten more switches like that. You’ve got five minutes. If you take longer, you’ll be walking home with that shirt right up over your head. With your arms in it. That’s if you’re wearing anything at all. Understood?”
“Yes!”
“Good girl.” I smacked her bottom again, since smacking her felt good, and to demonstrate that she didn’t get asked for permission for that. I’d help myself. “So get moving.”
The next episode is here.
Equipment
In Farewell my Lovely, Robert Mitchum plays the ageing and down-at-heel Philip Marlowe, who realises, to his surprise, that he and Helen Grayle, played by Charlotte Rampllng, want to fuck. So he says, “my place or yours?”
She says, “Why? We got everything we need right here.”
I feel that way about bdsm. Don’t need clothes, let alone costumes. Don’t need ties, or implements of discipline. Don’t need no electricity. All we need, a submissive woman and I, is our bodies and our voices.
Stuff is fun, and I own, oh, boots and vests and tawses and spreader bars and so on these days. Lots of stuff. But I don’t need it. It’s never the point.