Sexual authoritarians and bdsm 1

Posted on November 9, 2017 by jaime

When people discriminate against people who take part in bdsm, or support the harassment of bdsm clubs, publications and so on, by police and other authorities, they usually believe that they are reasonable people acting virtuously. People ply themselves with reasons when they treat other people badly.

If you enjoy bdsm, Robin Morgan, feminist-except-for-women-who-make-choices-she-disapproves-of, says you’re a traitor to all women.

Harassment and discrimination happen because of political, religious, ideological and other frameworks that define certain people as outsiders, generate dislike for them and provide reasons for messing with them as individuals and suppressing their meeting places, books, videos and so on. Discrimination is hardly ever mindless, though it can appear so. Nor is it “natural”.

People make up reasons for hatred, and those reasons are generally rationalisations, intellectualized and argued, to keep the emotional dislike behind them out of sight.

But discrimination against and harassment of bdsm people comes from other, more emotional partskinds of thinking.

Conservative authoritarianism

One framework that drives legal and other activities directed against bdsm people can be called conservative authoritarianism, which is often religious in inspiration. The conservative authoritarian case against bdsm consists essentially of the premises that deviant sex is evil and that bdsm is deviant sex.

Bdsm is therefore, syllogistically, evil. If more arguments were needed, then there are the considerations that bdsm looks strange, often involves non-procreative sex, may involve people who are not married to each other, or are people of the same gender, and so on.

What’s more, bdsm is part of a category that includes oral sex, homosexuality, lesbianism, bdsm, fetishism, paedophilia, window-peeping and flashing, Satanism, group sex, polygamy and many other things. Tolerating any one of them will only encourage the others.

The Reverend James Dobson strongly supports the beating and whipping of terrified, non-consenting children, but if an adult spanks another adult for pleasure, that is, of course, the devil’s work

The distaste felt by conservative authoritarians for bdsm isn’t so different from their distaste for homosexuality, oral sex, and so on.

The impulse that drove a Massachusetts police officer to force his way into a private party in 2000 and arrest a woman who was spanking another woman with a wooden spoon is the same as the impulse that in 2004 led a Virginia policeman to arrest a 21-year old woman for getting oral sex from her boyfriend (the penalty for oral sex in Virginia is up to five years’ imprisonment), and in 2006 led Republican Ralph Davenport to put up a bill to prohibit the sale of vibrators in South Carolina.

No-one who promotes such laws, and no police officer who selectively upholds them, can possibly believe that these laws prevent any harm or protect any person. The laws simply reflect the reality that other people’s sexual expression can rouse emotions in some other people that can range from discomfort to terror, from dislike to hate.

Dialog in a delicatessen: sometimes there are no sexual secrets

Posted on November 7, 2017 by jaime

Coffee

Ana guarded the last table while Svitlana brought over coffees and bagels. Svitlana put Ana’s coffee in front of her, and sat down. She looked at Ana over her glasses. “No, I’m not a lesbian because my husband used to punch me around. He started punching me when he found out I’m a lesbian.” A few heads turned, at the word ‘lesbian” loudly and cheerfully spoken.

Ana had wanted to go for lunch with Svitlana – she’d swapped her lunch hour with one of the salesmen to make it possible – because she’d thought they both had sexual secrets, and she’d wanted to talk about hers. She’d just learned that Svitlana didn’t actually have any sexual secrets. Svitlana still seemed the best person to talk to, about being a girl who liked obeying, and who liked it when her boyfriend bruised her, so long as he did it carefully.

Ana said, “Sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t mean, ‘How could your life have gone so wrong that you became a lesbian?’ But I must have sounded like that. And that must be annoying.”

Bagel

Svitlana smiled and put her hand on Ana’s wrist. Ana made herself not move her arm. Her discomfort came from the things she’d been taught at home, from her own mother and then Senemelia, and from the First Samoan Church. She knew those lessons were wrong, but she’d never had to confront them before. If there were lesbians in the First Samoan Church they were careful to hide it. But she had no right to inflict her upbringing on Svitlana.

“No, honey. You’re not a hater. There are things you don’t know and you asked me. That’s the right thing to do. I’m not going to beat you for it.” Ana looked at her, astonished. Svitlana grinned, and looked much younger for a second. Mischievous. “Not like your boyfriend.”

“Ah. yeah You saw my bruises. Don’t you think I’m weird? For liking that… sort of thing?”

Not very secret lesbians

“Heavens no. If it comes from a sexy, loving place…” Ana nodded. “The day you waltzed in with those marks on your legs, I saw your face. And the way you were walking. You really enjoyed earning those bruises. And getting them. So he’s doing what you want.”

Ana frowned. “No. I have to do what he wants. That’s how it works.”

“You think? The only thing about you that’s weird, Ana sweetie, is that you take men far too seriously. But that’s not very weird. Statistically. Everybody does that.”

Note

I’m happily being busy with my girl at the moment. But this is an extract from the novel I’m writing at the moment.

In the air tonight (my girl is)

Posted on November 4, 2017 by jaime

Suggestive pose! She’s been working on choreography for a moose movie

My girl is flying towards me. So life is good.

In fact, she’s just now cleared the Arctic and arrived in Kiruna. If I were a road, I’d end in Kiruna. If I were a person, I’d end it all, in Kiruna. Unless I had a ticket on, up and out. Which my girl, fortunately for all of us, does.

Next stop is somewhere in the damn world, then it’s me!

So: you want to know about my problems?

Somewhere – damned if I know where – I put my pussy-whip down and didn’t put it away.

Where the fuck is it?

Generally I’m a cunt-sayer, when I refer to lovely ladyparts, so I should logically say “cuntwhip”. But there’s a misogynist expression, “pussywhipped”, referring to a man who takes women’s needs seriously, that’s meant to discourage men from doing that. So I like to pervert the term, to refer to a real whip. I suppose it could also be used as a cockwhip, though not by my hands.

Anyway, it’s short, it’s cute, but unlike my girl it’s multi-thonged. I’m afraid I don’t know where it is, though.

So I’ll have to tidy my office, until I find it. Then, I shall use my pussywhip to whip my girl’s cunt. And her nipples. In particular.

I’ve got bigger worries than that, though. I hope she still loves me, in the flesh. There’s no reason why she shouldn’t, having managed to love me in the first place, I guess. But we’re anxious little creatures, we humans. I have no doubts about whether I love her, or how much.

And where in the fuck is this?

Beyond that, I intend to collar her. But I haven’t found a good collar yet. I’m after a day collar, not some leather dog collar thing with bolts, spikes and tether points. I’m looking for something more subtle, full of meaning but not too obvious to others.

So she can wear it in the vicinity of her mother, say, without setting her off.

Can I get a good collar, in time to collar my girl? This is on-going, with no guarantee of the good, happy ending. Stay tuned!

I’m also hoping to introduce her to the joys of anal sex. And myself to the joy (I have no doubt) of having my cock in her rectum. But I’ll desist if she’s not enjoying, or is hurting more than is fun. So… can I manage that difficult… passage? I hope so, but I don’t know.

And keeping her happy. My girl deserves a good break and a good time. Regular fuckings and spankings will help, obviously. But her energy reserves are low, and food intake needs to be regular though usually small. She is very low and miserable if she runs out of fuel, so I need to be always ready to provide something small and just right. Can I manage? I intend to, that’s for certain.

And then, within all the parameters, there has to be room for joy. Girl bound, and joy unbound!

Wicked Wednesday: Juniper’s Adventures 49

Posted on November 2, 2017 by jaime

This is episode 11 of Jennifer’s Pleats and Pleas 4: Holding Hands Across the Desk.

In this episode, Jennifer displays her new-found submission for her headmaster and Maddie, undressing completely for the first time, and going on her hands and knees to fetch the slipper with which she is to be spanked. Maddie is impressed with her progress. So is Will.

“This is a-grade erotica in a traditional style and setting, but told by an author with an eye for the telling erotic detail. And character details. These are three-dimensional people. I loved it!” – V Sevigne, reviewer.

But I’ve had to cut the text, though. This is to be published and my publishers don’t want free competition from my site. I’ll shortly insert a link to where you can buy this fine and erotic book at your favourite e-book seller.

Hail, pretty horrors, hail! Halloween and bdsm

Posted on November 2, 2017 by jaime

I was never a fan of Halloween. Until this year.

The first thing is that Halloween, in its current form, is pretty much an American thing. The country I come from isn’t very culturally similar to America, and people there just didn’t want it. Like a lot of non-Americans I first really became aware of it through the Halloween sequence in Spielberg’s film, ET.

So it’s something about kids dressing up in marketing outfits for various US franchises, and going door-to-door begging for sugar. So, I thought, it’s tacky and a bit greedy, And the voices of my parents, sounding in the back of my brain, told me that this was a dumb, kind of ugly festival.

I had another objection. Halloween is probably (not certainly, but probably) the Celtic festival of Samhain, which took place at the same time in the year, and had a theme of death and the lost souls of the dead. In taking it over, Christians gave it a Christian veneer. In this case, it was a night of licence, for indulging the wicked flesh, before everybody goes to church in the morning and people are then supposed to reject the flesh and the devil, and return to Christian asceticism, anti-sex, anti-this world doctrines.

The “trick or treat” thing is focussed on mischief, rewards and punishments. So it turns to bdsm very easily

That idea, the wickedness of the human body and the natural world, is one of the things I most dislike about Christianity.

But it’s been steadily losing its religious roots, both Celtic (believe me, ancient pagans mostly get a good press, but they really don’t deserve it) and Christian, and it’s steadily evolved into something much nicer.

Basically these days it’s a festival of geek, a cos-play extravaganza. And there are no threatened “tricks”. The slight blackmail element of the old festival has faded away.

So I got visited by a great horde of seven-year-old girls, a couple of moms standing a carefully calculated distance away. They were all dressed as princesses, mostly Disney princesses but a few fairy princesses too, a sort of ballerina, and a couple of girls in home-made Wonder Women costumes. (So Yay to their moms!) They were far too charming to lecture about this dumb festival. I didn’t have anything prepared, so I gave them dried raisins and apricots, and chocolate.

So the transaction wasn’t, “Trick or treat”. It was, “don’t we look amazing? We dressed up for you adults, so pay us in sugar!”

The Halloween-bdsm links haven’t escaped the cartoonists

Later I went shopping for bread and milk and such, and there were Goth girls everywhere, and real estate saleswomen, shop assistants and a woman I always notice in the chemist all dressed up, as Goth girls and other fantasy costumes. Anything that brings out women in velvet corsets, black lippy and choker collars is ok with me. Plus there were witches, Wonder Women and an amazing Cat Girl or two.

Next year I’ll be in it. I’m going to find me a blind harpist, and dress as a bard, we’ll go door-to-door singing Welsh Death Ballads until they give us marijuana and ask us to go away. You have to be polite to a bard. We can immortalise you in poetry, and its up to us whether you look good or stupid.

Anyway, Halloween! Not Christian, not Pagan: it’s a festival of slightly kinky cosplay!

Sinful Sunday: Something simple

Posted on October 29, 2017 by jaime

This always feels right, to me.

Beneath the sexiness of spanking, which I’ve discussed here, there’s something very comforting in being spanked, for many submissives.

I read somewhere that one of the reasons it’s so emotionally soothing is that it has sensual links to something that human, chimp and bonobo mothers all do. A common form of comforting is when the mother holds the baby against their body, and almost absent-mindedly smacks the baby’s bottom. Gently, while swaying or rocking back abd forwards, up and down.

The meaning of this gesture, it’s been suggested, is:

Hand on bottom: It’s okay, I’ve got you.

Hand away: But there’s no emergency, you’re safe, so I don’t have to hold you tight.

Hand back on bottom: But if there were danger, I’d hold you tight and protect you.

Hand away: But there’s no need.

Hand back on bottom: Still, I’m here.

And so on. Not quite forever, but it can go on for quite a while.

So this kind of comforting still carries a sort of physical memory for the submissive. He or she is being looked after, and they’re ok.

Anyway, my girl will be back in this position as fast as possible, once she’s cleared Customs.

And the collared girls go, doop de-doop de-doop…

Posted on October 27, 2017 by jaime

I am going to collar a girl I love.

I haven’t a lot to say about that. First, in general, when writing about anyone on this blog I apply a five-year rule, so that nothing gets on this blog before five years have passed. This is mainly for confidentiality, so that even if someone works out my secret identity as a policy advice guy for governments, they won’t be able to tell which woman any particular story concerns.

And second, I give false names and make sure key details are misleading. So if someone is a lab technician, for example, I’ll say here that she’s a chemist. If she’s short I might say she’s tall, or not mention it. Mentions of hair colour is usually incorrect, but not reliably so.

So what I’m about to say feels very strange to me. I’m going to collar the beautiful and clever Zoe, who blogs here. Never think the simple truth is simple: it took a real internal fight to make myself give that correct information. Out loud.

The only other thing to say is that she’s somewhat nervous. But my pledge to my readers, especially one of them, is that I’ll go slow, gentle, and only fierce when I’m sure the mood wants to be fierce.

And giving a collar may present itself as a kind of ownership, but that’s largely rhetoric, to help intensify the emotional intimacy between the collar-giver and the collar-wearer. The fact that we consciously know it’s rhetorical doesn’t prevent that rhetoric from having its desired emotional and erotic effect.

What a collar definitely is, is a symbol of love: both giving and accepting the collar are huge and powerful statements and admissions of love.

Wicked Wednesday: Juniper’s Adventures 48

Posted on October 26, 2017 by jaime

This is episode 10 of Jennifer’s Pleats and Pleas 4: Holding Hands Across the Desk.

In this episode, Jennifer returns to Mr Beecham for her slippering. He allows Maddie to stay, and even to deliver a light spanking when Jennifer is cheeky. Both women, and the headmaster, enjoy that immensely.

What giving a collar means to me

Posted on October 24, 2017 by jaime

I’m going to collar a girl in a few weeks’ time.

Squee!

Er, in a manly, dommy, voice, of course. Ahem.

There are a few minor issues that have to be dealt with first, like her giving me enthusiastic consent. Which is half-given, but I consider that it’s still subject to conditions at present. But once those trifling formalities are over, she shall be given and wear my collar.

So what does that collar mean, when I give it to this very specific person?

Commitment and love

A standard slave collar. Note that the designer provided rings for three leashes! The Bible says you can’t serve two Masters. Obviously, three’s all right though

The first thing it means is that I love her and I trust, to the state of knowledge, that she loves me. And I commit to her. I’m no longer looking. And whether she likes it or not, I consider it my duty, as a dom with a collared sub, to look after her, and to work to achieve her safety and happiness. She affirms the equivalent. We are a dominant and a submissive, and each of us is focussed on the other.

This is simple enough, and it’s the reciprocal aspect of a collar, the part that means roughly the same to the dominant and the submissive.

Submission

The second thing it means is that she’s my submissive. But that status, “my collared submissive”, can mean a range of things, on a continuum.

At one end of that scale it would mean she would address me as Master, and have to obey any command I give her, concerning any aspect of her life. I would have an absolute right to discipline her, for my pleasure or because she has displeased me. (The three things that I’m most likely to punish memorably for are self-destructive behaviour, which can include inaction, disobedience and disrespect other than playful cheekiness.

In that version of submission, she is my property. An owned girl.

At the other end of the continuum, it means she retains her own decision-making, independent of me for most of her life, but she is submissive to me in and around the bedroom. Her submission is sexual, and not anything else.

The rhetoric of lovers

These two styles aren’t in practice so different. There are some practical differences, but in reality the major difference is the intensity of the rhetoric.

All lovers use rhetoric when they speak to each other. Two people, having just fucked, may look each other in the eye and swear that they will love the other forever, till the day they die.

There are some tacky slave collars out there. This one could actually be worse than jazz…

In reality they may part within the year, because one of them eats mandarins in bed and the other wants to listen to jazz on the radio when they wake up in the morning.

Jazz would be a deal-breaker for me, by the way. I’d never swear undying love to someone who listened to jazz in the bedroom. Once I discovered that horrible jazz thing, it’d be a one-off, a one-night stand. Um, all right, this might be a digression.

But the fact that they parted doesn’t mean they were insincere when they swore undying love. And if you understood the rhetoric, it doesn’t even make what they said untrue. They were looking for words to express how enchanted and wonderful they felt, and they used those words.

The literal meaning of their words wasn’t the point; the meaning was the emotion they expressed.

Bdsm lovers’ rhetoric

So I might say to a submissive, “I own you; you are my property, to do with as I choose.” And she might say, “Oh god yes, I am yours, Master.” Then we sign a contract to that effect.

But if she feels bad in the relationship, and she no longer loves and respects me, she doesn’t really transgress that agreement if she leaves.

I could take her to Court, showing the contract in which she agreed that she was my property and my slave. “Look!” I’d say, “it’s signed in blood!” And the Court would laugh its fool ass off at me. A bdsm slave contract is worth the the paper it’s written on, in reality. Less, actually, because that sheet of paper’s got words scribbled all over it.

So in a sense, the rhetoric of ownership, of a collared submissive, really means: “I feel this passionate urge to be your dominant, to take and enjoy your submission, and I feel it very intensely. And I want to go on feeling it intensely, with you.”

It’s emotionally real. It’s never practically or legally real; a submissive cannot really give up direction and control over her life, except voluntarily while she wants to.

Love, again

The day collar. Something that can be worn in public, with some discretion. I’ll be looking for something on these lines…

So to me, the collar mainly represents loving commitment between a dominant and submissive. Beyond that it means a subtly moving bdsm commitment, with boundaries that extend and recede from day to day and moment to moment, under which the submissive commits to a presumption towards submission when the dominant evokes the bdsm or D/s part of the relationship.

That means, if I say, “girl, take your clothes off and kneel”, I expect to get obedience.

But if I said, “you will tell your mother about us, so she understands that you are my submissive, and that if she has any requests of you she must direct them through me,” I expect to get, at least, discussion. Or a flat, “fuck off”.

So I see the gift and acceptance of the collar not as an end-point but at a stage in a process. A declaration of love and commitment, and presumption towards submission when I flash out my dominant side: those are good starting points.

The collar is the outward sign of the commitment that allows us to find the right level of bdsm for us, and work our ways to the sweet level that best suits us both.

Sinful Sunday: Bound and paddled on a Sunday lie-in

Posted on October 22, 2017 by jaime

To wait is to have arrived. To be bound is to be free.

It’s Sunday morning, and luckily there’s nothing much to do. Except wait.

There will be the sound and the bite of the leather paddle. And eventually he will fuck her. Sometyimes he lets her hands free, when they fuck, so she can caress him. Sometimes he doesn’t. Both are good, and she couldn’t say which is her favorite.

But she does like not having the choice.