Maddie applies nipple clamps to Claire’s breasts. A lot of eye contact and shared breath.
Claire finds that having nipple clamps removed, after time has passed, is the hard part.
It’s a hot scene but it’s had to leave my blog because it’s published now, and publishers don’t like their stuff to be available for free. I’ll put up a link to where you can buy this very hot text, shortly.
Roland had come only minutes before, and so he was in no danger of doing so again, or not unintentionally. They fucked for an hour, then two, sometimes speeding up so he could hear Teresa’s orgasm cries again, and sometimes lazily pleasing each other while getting their energy back.
Later, in one of their calm periods, he kissed her ear and her nose, and looked down at her. “Those things you say when you’re coming. Tard-ah. Kit toll. Is that in some language I don’t know? What’s it mean?”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “I have no idea why I say that. Or if it means anything, except that I’m happy. Not just coming: happy.”
“Oh.”
“Do you hate it?”
“No! Absolutely not! I just haven’t heard that before. I suppose I’ll want to hear it all the time, now.”
Teresa grinned up at him. “Well, you know how.”
He laughed, cock still thick inside her, and began to move, slowly at first, digging deep and slowly withdrawing, then filling her again. Teresa sighed. It was a dance, the best dance, and they were speeding up.
When they were fucking hard and fast she raised her thighs again and put her feet on the small of his back. That had made him come, the last time.
He sped up, now desperate for her, and Teresa came, screaming her sounds, hearing his guttural groans of pleasure and release just a few seconds later.
They lay together, Roland above her, his heart pounding against hers.
She lies back on a little hill. The grapes make an irresistible offer, but not the only one.
Thanks to the lovely Zoe!
(I think the camera is actually lower than the beautiful subject, because of the slope.)
It’s unlikely that there’s such a thing as a “bdsm gene”, any more than it seems likely there is a single “gay gene”. However, it’s plausible, though not proven, that there are genetic factors that in combination predispose some people in some cultures into adopting the homosexual role defined and allowed by that culture.[i]
Somewhere in that damn DNA is the BDSM. Or, as the case may be, not.
Similarly, it’s plausible that a combination of genetic factors predispose some people to be aroused by pain, restraint or dominant-submissive relationships, and to channel that arousal in sexual directions.
This doesn’t mean that some people are born to be involved in bdsm. It’s rather that they are more likely than other people to recognize and respond to situations with bdsm overtones, for example watching or getting a childhood spanking, or a television or film scene in which a character gets tied up. These experiences can be called “bdsm signals”.
They can be real-life experiences, but bdsm signals are common in advertising, films and music videos. Some people with this genetic disposition may never encounter a signal that catches their attention and triggers their interest. In that case, they probably won’t experience this kind of arousal, and that genetic possibility will go unexplored.
Others, who have both the genetic predisposition and the awakening experience that comes from the culture’s bdsm signals, are more likely to become interested in bdsm.
“Man talk.” (Smack.)
I once talked about this with a woman who had watched Goldfinger on late-night TV with a group of friends.
There’s a notorious moment where Sean Connery smacks Margaret Nolan (who plays a character called “Dink”) on the arse, after sending her away because he wants to talk to Felix Leiter. “Man talk.”
Everyone else was shocked at the bizarre sexism of the scene, which hasn’t aged well, and she was sitting there quietly thinking, Sean Connery can smack my arse any time he likes. It was one of those “that’s when I knew I was different” moments.
If there is a genetic predisposition it’s almost certainly carried across a range of genes rather than a single one, and it’s unlikely that those genes will be identified any time soon.
Still, it seems plausible that the culture provides people with bdsm signals, which they may or may not see or notice. And that some of those who observe the signal may for genetic reasons sexualize dominance and submission more easily than others do. In this very limited and partial sense some of us may be born that way.
[i]Richters, Juliet, “Understanding Sexual Orientation: A Plea for Clarity”, Reproductive Health Matters, Volume 6, Number 12, 1998, pp 146-147.
Maddie takes a turn as Claire’s disciplinarian. She isn’t quite as fierce as she’d hope to be. But Claire thinks she’s being pretty hot anyway. So does Will.
It’s a hot scene but it’s had to leave my blog because it’s published now, and publishers don’t like their stuff to be available for free. I’ll put up a link to where you can buy this very hot text, shortly.
Roland frowned, trying to read her. She was fighting, and inviting, all at once. So he pushed her shoulders down onto the sheet, and wrestled his way between her thighs with force and sometimes cunning. Teresa wriggled, which she believed she did deliciously. It seemed that this was a game he’d never played before, but she was giving him every encouragement to continue.
They wrestled until at last he had her held down on her back, his body above her, held tightly between her thighs, which she’d raised and pressed against his sides, his cock pressing against her cunt.
Teresa grinned fiercely up at him again, as though it was she who’d won, and let her head fall back. She was exposing her throat.
The gesture meant more to her than it seemed it did to him, but it was clear enough. She’d surrendered.
He kissed her more tenderly than they’d been for the past several minutes, and she was loving in response. So he pressed forward, in possession of her as if she were conquered territory. He moved his cock forward, into her so that the glans was just inside her wet inner skin. He felt so good, so welcome. Teresa closed her eyes, moaned piteously and opened her thighs a little wider. He’d be a ninny if he didn’t know he was wanted.
He pressed forward so that his cock slid deeper into her, filling her sweetly and tightly, and their pubic bones pressed together.
They began to rock, slowly at first, in each others’ arms. Teresa parted her thighs still wider, so he was in complete possession.
Then she raised her knees, almost folding her body in half, and pressed her feet on his arse. His face suddenly seemed anguished. He came in her, she suspected not quite intentionally, about thirty seconds later.
He said, “Sorry. Shit, I’m sorry,” but Teresa ignored him. Fortunately he desired her ferociously, and Teresa was skilled at getting him hard again, with hands and mouth, and he needed little recovery time. They were soon lost in each other again, rocking and plunging. She cried out when she came, in nonsense syllables: “Tard! Tard a ben kit toll, tard ah! Tard ah!…” He frowned, surprised, but realised that it wasn’t a distressed sound, and kissed her.
Not a scoobie snack in sight. But if there were some, you could toast them on my loved girl’s lovely ass.
And it’s amazing just how proud and loving you feel, after raising that heat.
And thanks to the lovely Zoe, beautiful of soul and ass, for modelling this pic.
The Guardian published a piece on sexual choking. It’s here.
I’ve some reservations with it. For example it doesn’t distinguish clearly between two different phenomena:
1. A lot of porn at the moment, particularly but not only bdsm porn, features choking, where one partner puts their hand on the other partner’s neck and constricts their breathing, and some people are imitating what they see; and
2. Some husbands have murdered their wives, and their defence lawyer has argued that the murder was a “consensual kink session that accidentally went wrong”, as a defence.
It’s unfortunate not to make that distinction, because in the second kind of case kink was not involved. In fact the defence lawyer and the mainstream media have worked together to blame an old-fashioned murder on alternative sexuality.
I have some other problems, like the citing of anti-sexual minority and pro-censorship activist Gail Dines as an “expert” and as a “feminist”, when she is not in the habit of taking contrary evidence into account, and she is significantly opposed to the right of women to make sexual choices of which she disapproves. There are also questions about her relationship with the anti-abortion rights wing of the Christian Right.
Anyway, I’m still pleased that the issue has come up.
First, a personal statement. As a Dom, I simply don’t do choking. I’ve been a nurse (a psych nurse, but you get some basic medical training), and I know all the systems that run through the neck are delicate enough without people fucking with them deliberately.
I do know that it can be done safely. If it couldn’t, then the floors of all the bdsm porn studios would be littered with corpses. And they’re not.
Also, I know many submissives want to try it.
But personally, if someone wants to be choked, I’ll ruthlessly shove their face into a pillow, and check on them after, say, thirty seconds. No, seriously.
The neck grip strikes me as too risky to be fun.
The Guardian article talks about two, possibly three deaths. One was clearly a murder, while the other is perhaps more ambiguous. I know that in my native New Zealand there used to be about 6 deaths every year from erotic strangulation, though almost all of those were auto-asphyxiation, with no one else present.
We simply have no way of telling:
Now, I don’t think porn changes people’s character or degrades their general behaviour. But what it can do is mislead. If choking is shown as pleasurable to the person being choked, and as requiring no great level of skill or preparation, then a conscientious and well-meaning lover may decide to try it out.
That is, to claim the practice is only misogynist is to simplify human sexual behaviour. What it actually is, is more dangerous than many people realise.
By “dangerous” I mean you can reduce risk, with guidance and practice, but not eliminate it.
Within bdsm, we need more education. People who want to be doms, and want to do the things in sex that doms will do need certain information. For example:
1 There are some submissives who do, in fact, enjoy careful choking play. However there are many others for whom it is a hard limit. That means they don’t want it, and to try it will break their trust in the dom who tries to include it into sexual play without consent. My guess, based on anecdote and not data, is that submissives who dislike and fear choking are more common than those who like it.
2 Therefore, it should only ever be done with prior discussion and consent.
At the moment, bdsm porn is not doing well at communicating those ideas. Choking is fashionable. Porn has fashions, like the sudden appearance a few years ago of butt hooks. (About which I’m much more enthusiastic.)
Porn makers often behave ethically. An example is promoting condom use. Another example is how quickly the porn industry dropped star James Deen after credible complaints of sexual coercion were made against him. Similar moves in “mainstream” media have taken years, or even decades.
The porn industry doesn’t bear most of the responsibility for the “fashionability” of choking. Cultures are influenced in many complicated ways. But it would be a big help if they stopped promoting it and presenting it as a safe activity that can casually be sprung on the partner, thereby enhancing their pleasure.
There are safer options for forcing a partner to lose control of their breathing for a while, if that’s something they want: pillows, obviously, and even a big bowl of water.
It’s probably time for choking, strangulations and choke holds to quietly fade out of porn, whether bdsm or mainstream.
Claire comes to understand the link between punishment, specifically the cane, and forgiveness. She also learns that pain can take away pain by making it easier to forgive yourself. And she learns that a caned Claire is a horny Claire, very focussed on getting what she wants.
It’s a hot scene but it’s had to leave my blog because it’s published now, and publishers don’t like their stuff to be available for free. I’ll put up a link to where you can buy this very hot text, shortly.
Roland took his wallet from his pants, found a condom and put it on. He joined Teresa and pushed her shoulders back until she was lying full-length on the bed, on her back. He placed his toes towards the bottom end of the bed and took her hands, pushing them back to the mattress, above her head.
She sighed contentedly and lay back, raising her thighs to offer a comfortable place to ride, between pale, plump thighs. “I said fuck me, you.” She frowned. “What was your name again?”
He bit her right nipple. Not for her pleasure, though it felt good. “Roland. And at least I have the decency to know your name’s Teresa.”
She poked her tongue out at him again.
So, his hands holding hers down on the bed, he lowered himself onto her, his body straight like a man doing press-ups, until their faces were centimetres apart. He touched her forehead with his, while they stared into each other’s eyes. She tilted her face up and kissed him. He let his body sink onto hers.
But Teresa felt a perverse urge to make his life more complicated. She’d been too easy, and he seemed to be relying on scripts that had suited him with other women in these moments. She wanted to test him again. Suddenly she put her legs together and rolled out of his way.
She saw the shock in his eyes. Up to that moment she’d been sweetly inviting. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong, but he released her hands, and was ready to back away and get off the bed. She grinned at him, the fierce kind of grin, and said, “Vampires don’t fuck mundanes. Not… without a fight, anyway.”
So, Roland learned, the word for people who don’t really care about vampires except for desiring one girl who dressed as a vampire, is mundane. He was a mundane. She hoped he’d also learn that when sex was going well Teresa liked to fight and then lose. He probably wasn’t comfortable with games like that, because his life was easier when consent was clear.
He’d be uncomfortable with clouding it. But he had to deal with the woman he was with: Teresa wasn’t going to be generic.
But the struggle was what she wanted, so long as she lost it, and it seemed to her that what her cunt wanted is more important than what the political purist might think and say.
She beat at his chest with her fists, like the heroine in some old black-and-white movie. But she was careful not to hit his face or bollocks or anywhere else that mattered. She didn’t want to discourage him.