Harsh

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Sometimes a slavegirl misbehaves. She was having trouble getting essays in on time. I’d worked round the clock that night, writing the appendices for her for a major project, that had to be handed in in the morning or it wouldn’t be accepted. She wrote the main section. 

So in the morning, when the completed project was emailed off, a minute before deadline,  I was not pleased. There was a discussion to be had, on why this had happened and how to stop it happening again. 

But first there was punishment. This photo is from about two-thirds of the way through. Later she needed to cry in my arms and be comforted, but first she needed the harshness.  

Tenderness and the harshness, and her need for both, are all expressions of love.

 

 

Tender

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Every good submissive needs aftercare. After a punishment, or a session. 

The body is suspicious of pain. It wants to know why it hurts, and how to interpret that assault.

A submissive who’s been punished hard, or used hard, and now has welts and bruises, needs to know that he or she is loved and cared for, valuable and special. 

That has a practical reason. It prevents or at least limits sub drop, the state of self-doubt and depression that can come in and bring the submissive’s emotional and physical state down, after the landing from flying through sub space. It’s like an ecstasy reaction, and like the eccie hangover, it sometimes comes immediately the effect wears off, and sometimes it comes a couple of days later. 

So the Dom needs to give the submissive a lot of love and affection and tangible signs of caring, to reduce the drop, and give the submissive some things he or she can hold on to, and use to fight the negative feelings that can follow a session.

That obligation can’t be discharged in one session. Some submissives need immediate aftercare only, but others need immediate aftercare, and a second course one or two days later.

Tenderness is a crucial part of aftercare: the hugs, the soft, loving words, the treats, the warm bath where the dom shampoos the submissive’s hair, the love-making afterwards.

But it’s more than aftercare. I think, anecdotally, that all doms in a long-term bdsm relationship love their submissive. With the physical and emotional intensity of bdsm, and the awesome power of the submissive’s surrender, it’s hard not to.

Sometimes we show that love in a harsh, cruel way, knowing that the submissive needs our harshness in order to take flight. And sometimes we’re just tender, because that’s how we feel.  

Tenderness is kind of underrated in bdsm literature, especially the sexy porn literature. But in reality, it’s essential. 

Wicked Wednesday: Writhing, kicking and bawling

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This is episode X of what evolved and expanded to become that very erotic and engrossing ebook, Jennifer’s Pleats and Pleas 3: Trying to be a Good Girl.

Unfortunately, I’ve had to remove the actual text, because this excellent and very sexy book is about to be submitted for sale through Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Apple Books, 24symbols, Angus and Robinson, tolino, Rakuten Kobo and Vivlio. Very soon I’ll give you a link to a page where you can choose your favoured book supplier. Come back now!

 

Masturbation Monday: How to say the wrong thing

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Emily had just declared that she wanted to be punished. It sounded like an oath to me, so I added, “Being of sound mind, ekt.”

Emily looked, for a second, up at the ceiling. “Oh, utterly sound mind.” 

“Ok. Look, as far as I’m concerned, there are two things. You shouldn’t have let me wait till three in the morning before you called me. I’m going to punish you for that. So that’s, um, ten strokes tonight, for making me worry about you. Whether you were ok.”

Emily said, “Ok.”

“And Marty, the Marty … thing. You put yourself in danger. It was stupid, and I’m not going to let you do that again. So I’m giving you a dozen tomorrow, for putting yourself in danger. You were scared, and you scared the shit out of me. That is not going to happen again.”

She nodded, silent. I did some counting. “So you’ve got twenty-two strokes, over two days, and I think I’m being lenient. If it hurts, and I’m going to make sure it does, you’ve got it coming.” 

Emily nodded again, thoughtfully. She said, “I guess I do.” I’d given her more strokes than that before. It was on the severe side, but it wasn’t outlandish. I hadn’t mentioned infidelity, having sex with fucking Marty. Fucking Marty. That was on both our minds but we didn’t say it. We were both influenced by versions of feminism, in which jealousy was one of patriarchy’s darkest and most dangerous corners. We were trying to be cool about that. She said, “I suppose. I suppose that’s fair.”

“And you lied to me. That’s more. One more day. Another six.” That was cheating, increasing the number after Emily had agreed. But I’d said it without thinking, and once it was said the rules seemed to say that I couldn’t go back on it. I’d have to remember not to do that again. “So that’s what it’s going to be.”

“That’s a lot, Jaime. I don’t know if I should …” She shrugged, impatient with herself. “No, okay. When?”

“We start right now, Emily. Go get the cane. Bring it to me.”

Emily gazed at me, then nodded without speaking, and left. It seemed she didn’t call me “sir” when it was real. The canes were in a cupboard with other toys and tools in Emily’s room. She returned holding a thickish length of rattan, about four feet long. But she didn’t immediately offer it to me. “I don’t have to take this if I don’t want to.”

She meant to say that she was reaffirming her choice and her consent, but I misunderstood her. “No, you’re right. You don’t have to.” That was the right thing to say.

Then I said, “But you deserve it, Emily. You really deserve it.” That wasn’t so good; I’d thought that I wasn’t going to be a bully.

I followed with worse. “Emily, you lied to me. And you fucked that – you fucking hurt me, Emily.” 

Emily stopped. A tear spilled, began its trail. Then gleaming tracks down both cheeks. Emma wept silently, still holding the cane. I said, “Oh fuck, I’m sorry.”

Sinful Sunday: A terrifying transmogrification

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One of the most dangerous things about being a European, particularly in the Celtic or Graeco-Roman traditions, is that one day you’ll be going about your business and then – wham! – you find yourself turning into a swan! 

We don’t hold with that nonsense in the Mountains. However, every so often swans transform into beautiful naked women. That seems like a better deal, to me. 

I managed to get a picture this swan right in the middle of its transmogrification. 

Why might left-wing people have more bdsm fantasies than right-wingers?

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There was a study released a few days ago on the sexual fantasies of Americans. You can find a link to an article by the researcher here. The study took in 4,175 people across the 50 states, and asked them about people, places and things that turn them on. 

We won’t dwell on the “people” side of it, except to say that a lot of people wanted to fuck Sarah Palin, which is weird. So, IMHO, are the people who want to do Hillary. I was also surprised by the fact that Bill Clinton was fancied by more people than Obama. That’s got to be the weird American race barrier, because otherwise that seems kind of inexplicable.

Democrats fucking

Anyway, the interesting finding was that Republicans were more likely than Democrats to have fantasies about partner-swapping, orgies and other non-monogamous sex, while Democrats were more likely than Republicans to fantasise about bdsm. 

The article in Politico doesn’t tell us how the researcher, Justin Lehmiller, selected his sample. He also doesn’t tell us what the actual numerical differences were, between Republican and Democrat fantasies.

That’s why my heading includes the word “might”. Ordinarily I’d take the whole thing with a grain of salt, but I’m prepared to at least discuss it because it falls into the category of “possibly suss research that happens to fit in with my own anecdotal experience”.

Republicans fucking

Anyway, Lehmiller’s explanation for the difference he claims to have found is  the attraction of “taboo.” Republicans are big on “family values”, so non-monogamy is forbidden and hot, for them.

Democrats believe in equality so the inequality of dominant/submissive roles is forbidden and hot for them.

I don’t think that’s it.

In practice, bdsm isn’t the place you’d go if you want unequal relationships. You want “traditional patriarchal Christian marriage” for that shit. Bdsm insists on equality as a starting point, from which you negotiate unequal power, and it insists on explicit consent. And the power is never really unequal. If the submissive isn’t getting what he or she wants, their Dom will become their ex-Dom in about the time it takes to speak the words, “Fuck you!”

If you believe in clear consent, bdsm is one place you’ll find that. Someone could argue that that’s what draws left-wing people to bdsm. I suspect that only plays a minor role, though. 

But there are good reasons why conservatives don’t much like bdsm. In particular, bdsm is anti-authoritarian. In bdsm people play “power difference” for sexual pleasure. Conservatives tend to think that’s very disrespectful to the rightful authorities. Particularly men of the church, who prefer their power over sexual matters to be non-consensual and unquestioned.  

Anarcho-syndicalist giraffes are way sexier than either donkeys or elephants.

I think the reason why Democrats are more likely than Republicans to have bdsm fantasies is pretty much the opposite of Lemiller’s “taboo” theory. That is, social acceptance off bdsm is relatively new and it is still happening. But it’s got a firm toe-hold in the culture.

Just as Democrats were faster to pick up on gay rights and dignity issues, they are more likely to feel that governments should keep out of bdsm consensual sexual activity. In the process, they are making bdsm less taboo.

That is, Democrats are more likely to fantasise about bdsm hotness (if that’s the case; note reservations about the research) not because it’s their “forbidden”, but because for them it’s less forbidden.

Wicked Wednesday: Kiss the slipper

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This is episode X of what evolved and expanded to become that very erotic and engrossing ebook, Jennifer’s Pleats and Pleas 3: Trying to be a Good Girl.

In this episode, something incredibly steamy happens, but I’ll tell you what it is later. (Tech issues to fix first.)

Unfortunately, I’ve had to remove the actual text, because this excellent and very sexy book is about to be submitted for sale through Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Apple Books, 24symbols, Angus and Robinson, tolino, Rakuten Kobo and Vivlio. Very soon I’ll give you a link to a page where you can choose your favoured book supplier. Come back now!

Masturbation Monday: Just desserts

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Punishing Emily seemed to be a hot idea. It was also terrifying. I’d no longer be able to rely on the politics that I’d put together to allow me to accept my sexual desires. I’d have to fly without a map, immediately, and work out something new.

She was less fussed about the politics than I was, because we both knew that in any discussion over sexism the woman is always right. I might have to flounder round, trying to come up with reasons, but she didn’t. And she had no reason to worry about getting the cane. She liked getting caned. If she didn’t get caned for this reason, there’d be another reason coming along soon enough.

It came down to this, for both of us: we could carry on being awkward with each other, or we could do something new and scary that meant we’d fuck and forgive. There were arguments for and against this, but the lust of it led in only one direction.

My face was cold, pale and sweaty as a slice of picnic chicken. Emily was as pale as she ever gets, a speckled brown egg. “Yeah, well. Suppose you punish me. Okay. What happens?”

I was used to pretending to be a disciplinarian. Actually being a disciplinarian, the real thing, was stranger and more emotional than I’d imagined. “I suppose … Well, I’d tell you to go and fetch the cane. You’d do as you’re told. And then I’d cane you. And … No, that’s it, really.”

A day ago, Emily might have said something like, “Oh no, sir, pleeease not the cane,” and we’d have taken the game from there. Instead she said, “Okay then.” She stared at a point on the floor, just before my feet.

“Emily, look at me.” Emily looked up, then cast her eyes down. I realised, relieved, that part of her was still play-acting. Sure, she was ashamed, and afraid of the cane, but she was also enjoying her humiliation, and hoping I’d make it worse. I could talk to both Emilys. “I’m giving you one last chance to decide, okay? This is the chance, right now. If you say, ‘Yes, I deserve the cane’, then we’ll start. But if you can say, ‘No, I don’t deserve to be caned,’ then we don’t start. Nothing happens.”

“Um. Well, what happens if I say I deserve it, but I still don’t want you to cane me?”

I hadn’t thought of that. “I’d be pissed off with you.” I shook my head. That was bullying. I’d feel better about this if I managed not to be a bully. “I mean, truthfully, I would be pissed off with you. I’m pissed off now. But I’d forgive and forget. It’d take a while but it wouldn’t take forever. So if you say nothing happens, then nothing happens.” 

“You wouldn’t leave me?” 

“Jesus, Emily! No, I won’t leave you. Absolutely not. Not matter what. I love you.” It was true, though I didn’t sound very loving.      

“Okay. I love you too. Um, what was I supposed to say?”

“Well, whatever the hell you’ve decided should happen. It’s your choice. Oh. Right, the words were: ‘Yes, I deserve the cane.’” 

“Ok. Yes, I, Emily Maria Viviani, deserve the cane. No, really; I totally fucked up. You absolutely should punish me. With the cane. I really deserve it. I need you to punish me. I know I do.”

Once she’d said that our world changed. I pretended not to feel the vertigo. 

The responsibilities of fictional characters in erotica

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A lot of people have attacked the fictional character Christian Grey for being a bad dom. Of course, he’d be a terrible dom if he was real. He stalks lip-biting inner-goddess Anastasia, spanks her and takes a strap to her arse, all without her consent. 

I’m sure he behaved badly in the second two books as well, but I haven’t been able to read them. Call me a snob and call me a cab, but after skimming Volume One I was out of there. 

If Christian Grey were a real person bdsm communities would have warnings about him, for his weird, unethical and non-consensual behaviour. He’d finish up getting charged with assault and being in the centre of a massive media scandal: “Billionaire in kinky love-nest rape!” That sort of thing.

However, as a fictional character his behaviour is a lot better. He’s made a lot more women come, with Fifty Shades in one hand and their bits in the other, than any thousand real doms combined. Even if you include me. That’s a significant contribution to human happiness, and you can’t ignore it.

As a fictional character, my main criticism of Christian Grey is that he doesn’t do nearly enough spanking and commanding and binding the Anastasia of Steel. I skimmed Fifty Shades Freed looking for the bdsm scenes so I could critique them, but I never found any. I’m sure I just didn’t look hard enough.  

In the interminable schoolgirl spanking saga I’m writing, there are two headmasters, and they initiate certain of their students into various kinky sexual practises. Obviously, if they were real and lived in our world, they’d both belong in jail.

They’re not breaking age-of-consent laws, and the age gap between them and their charges isn’t all that great: about eight years.

But they’re in a position of authority and there’s no question at all that they’re misusing their authority in ways that, uh, conflict with the criminal code in any civilised society. 

On the other hand, these two imaginary men are written to give pleasure to their readers, and my impression is that my spanking headmasters, like the “naughty schoolgirl” scenario itself, appeal particularly to a female audience. I am that audience’s humble servant. 

There is, eventually, a happy ending to the Jennifer-and-Maddie saga, but at the rate at which time moves in my stories, that ending will probably arrive some time in 2021. In the meantime, my point is, I’m happy to write it and make it as sexy as possible. While being fervently against corporal punishment and sex between teachers and students in the real world. 

 

I’m not saying that fictional characters have no ethical requirements at all. We erotica writers who consider ourselves to be on the side of the angels (especially the sexy, spankable, fuckable angels) don’t write bestiality, or eroticise rape, or write scenarios involving people under eighteen, though the age of consent where I live is sixteen.

But still, there is a difference, a space, between fantasy and real life, and it’s a space that erotica writers spend a lot of time in. It’s fluid and it’s complex, like the best sex, and we need to defend our freedom to have erotic fantasies that are perfectly sexy without necessarily being perfectly ethical.

We know the difference between fiction and fantasy, on the one hand, and the real world, in the other.

We need to take action in the real world to challenge the beliefs and indulgences that make it far too easy for men to rape and get away with it, and to give support to organisations that support women who’ve been subjected to rape and other violence.

At the same time, we need to defend our right to have erotic fantasies, and to share them with others.

Erotica is a powerful tool for improving human happiness, and for helping people to find and explore their own erotic selves without censorship or condemnation. 

Pleasure is, at least, undervalued. It shouldn’t be shamed.