Category Archives: Such is life

My ass and welcome to it

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Just an odd thing. At work today there was general feeling, among the women, that there weren’t enough Christmas decorations. 

A Kenyan woman, who I rather fancy, got me a chair to stand on so I could lift up the slats in the ceiling, and fix the Christmas glitter-rope, baubles and such, into the gaps between the slats and the framework that holds them up. Never mind how it worked, because that’s not the point. 

The point was that I was up on this chair, and when I looked down there was a crowd of women watching me. I am short and not really fit. But they were finding excuses to stare up at me, and then finding reasons why I should clamber up onto the desks, walking about and poking things up into the ceiling. Er, and holding my stomach in, since my shirt wasn’t tucked in and they were looking up at me.

I don’t really care about the sexual politics, one way or another. I’m not a seventeen year old girl getting photocopier paper from the top shelf, again. And I approve of lust, in general, so long as it’s well-meaning. But I thought: me? What the fuck: me? I do think I’m good at domming, but I’m nothing special in other contexts. 

Anyway, women are perverse. That’s all there is to it. 

Corner time #4: Not always

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Corner time’s got its place, but other times a dom  might just grab his submissive’s ankles, pull her to the edge of the bed on her back, lift her legs up and tug off anything she was wearing, give her a swift belting with her legs still held in the air, and then fuck her hard and fast.

Sometimes doms just want to dom and subs want to submit.

And bodies want bodies. 


Corner time #3: Me

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While she is showing off in the corner, I get to admire the submissive’s body, and enjoy the thought of her getting nervous while she waits.

I can read her body movements, and make guesses about her state of mind.  

I’m fully clothed, in a comfortable chair. Maybe with a glass of wine and a book. The book might as well be upside down, for all the attention I paid it, but it’s a traditional prop and I’m a traditionalist. When I remember. But I’d be pretending to ignore her. She’d know full well I’m admiring her the whole time. It gives her time to come to the boil. 

Before the words, “Come here.”

Corner time #2: Afterwards

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For me, corner time after a punishment, or pleasure spanking, is usually briefer than corner time before. That’s because if a girl has been punished, I want her to know she’s forgiven, and I want to start looking after her before she had time to get lonely and unhappy.

It can be a very close time, the reconciliation after punishment. And sexy.

I don’t believe in punishment by withdrawing affection. Punishment, when it’s needed, should be physical and painful, but followed by a lot of loving and comforting. And a quantity of fucking.

But corner time afterwards helps a punished girl to get her breath back, and want forgiveness. If it had been a sexual spanking, then I’d probably not want to hold out for long, before kissing her better. Also better and better. And either way, it always seems to be a sexier and more submissive girl who comes out of that corner when I call her.

Corner time #1: Before

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Corner time is a nice psychological time.  

If I’m genuinely going to punish a submissive, then putting her in the corner for a while beforehand gives her time to think about why getting into trouble is a bad idea, and to develop some butterflies in her tummy.  

If it’s punishment she’s waiting for, she’ll generally be naked. And holding the instrument I was going to use on her. That helps her to concentrate and think about what’s coming.  

If I were just going to spank her for her pleasure and mine, then the waiting time helps her to get turned on before we start. It allows extra games like testing her for wetness once she’s over my knee, or in whatever position she’s going to be in. A spanking feels best when the submissive is already turned on before we start. As everybody knows.  

Of course, because the body doesn’t know about the distinction between punishment and sexual play, she’d probably get turned on while she was waiting to be punished, and she’d be slightly apprehensive while waiting for a good girl spanking. That’s okay. 

Roads less travelled: Skittety Scat Scat Shoo Bee Doo Wah Wah

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Scat singing is vocal improvisation with wordless, nonsense syllables. Scat singing lets singers do the equivalent of an instrumental solo, using their voice.

It’s a jazz thing. God, I loathe jazz. Maybe that’s not quite true. Sometimes jazz spends time being blues (Ella Fitzgerald, sometimes), and then I can put up with it. But the more like jazz it gets, the more I hate it.

And the jazziest thing of them all, even jazzier than bass solos, is scat singing.

However, I will not hear a word against Cab Calloway.

However, I will not hear a word against Cab Calloway.

You know when it’s coming: you’ve just had a long bit where someone goes squeak and squonk on the sax, and goes back to the ranks while the audience gives them a well-bred round of considered applause, and then the singer comes out looking as happy as the Persian cat that engulfed the moon, and begins:

“Squiddily dap dap dap scat a doogity boogity willong scat scat dap whap.”

You just know they plan to keep on doing that for longer than you can possibly stay in the same room as them. Death to scat. I really really will not do sexual play involving shit, but I think the singing might actually be worse.  

Roads less travelled: anal hook

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Not all the roads I haven’t travelled are roads I’ve considered and rejected. Some roads I just haven’t got around to. For example, I’ve never got around to using an anal hook. 

She has as many choices as she needs.

She has as many choices as she needs.

Anal hooks are interesting because they’ve become part of bdsm, and yet no-one had heard of them until just a few years ago. I suspect they were only invented recently.

People like me – the civilians of bdsm, not the professionals who run dungeons and make films, and such – have got along without them just fine for the last few millennia. 

But there’s something about their ruthlessness and impersonality that appeals to me. A submissive who is keeping her back arched and her ass presented (I’m going to use female gender for this; if your interest is male submissives, then mutatis mutandis) because I’ve put an anal hook in her knows that her ass is going to stay exactly where I want it until I choose otherwise. She knows that her comfort is not an issue, only her enforced good posture.

The symbolism of the anal hook is hard, unrelenting and merciless. And at the same time, she knows that she’s been put in that position because her ass is considered very pleasing indeed. 

So I expect that a submissive held in that way will be uncomfortable, and happy, and wet.  So I’ll probably get one, one day.

Roads less travelled: sharps

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I had a brief relationship with a woman who wanted me to cut her.

She’d been away from bdsm for a while when she met me. When she discovered I was a dom – we found out about the other’s interest in bdsm after we’d been to bed – she liked serving, and she liked being back under discipline. But she told me that her mistress, when she’d had one, used to cut the skin on her back, very finely, with a very sharp blade. Now she was submitting again, she wanted me to cut her.  

I did consider it. You try to give lovers what they want, and doms have no excuse for being any different. But I thought it was unsafe, unwise, unsexy, and symbolically kind of creepy. I don’t like permanent damage. There’s something about knife play that feels hostile to the body. I like the body. So the idea of taking a blade to her skin just creeped me out. That didn’t leave much room for negotiation. 

I’m not condemning knife play, not then and not now. And she’s a smart and responsible woman, not remotely self-destructive. I’m only saying that it absolutely wasn’t for me. I would not cut her. 

So I refused. We continued as dom and submissive for a little longer, but only three weeks later we had an argument about something else, and she handed back the key to my apartment and asked for hers back. I think my refusal to even try knife play was a key issue.

Anyway, knife play. Sharps. Cutting. I’m just not going to do it. 

Roads less travelled: bzzzzzt

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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.