Archives for May 2018
This week we are featuring an amazing artist named Brian Vox. To check out more of his work click here
About the Artist:
Brian Vox has been creating art for more than 40 years. His work ranges from acrylic to digital paintings and thematically tend to revolve around pinup, surreal, and fetish. Several works include mixed media design with his trademark steel cage-frames or beautiful Shibari rope. His work is darkly sensual. Evoking a beauty that is exciting to the senses. It contains a hint of something unreachable and unnerving, yet the overtone is sleek and erotic. He has always felt that the female forms portrayed have a power and strength. These are not damsels in distress. They are powerful creatures fully exuding their sexual confidence. Sometimes abstract, sometimes photorealistic. His work is intended to please the eye and excite the senses while allowing the viewer to initially question the topic and pull the beholder around and through the subject into a worId of the libidinous imagination.
June 8 at 9pm at Lair de Sade (Los Angeles) Sinister Insight Night is hosting a submissive/slave training, punishment/discipline, reactance/resistance panel moderated by Slave Bunny.
Click Here For More Details.
We hope to see you all there!
Ever wonder why powerful, upstanding men like to be spanked?
Click here to find out why.
Pregnancy shouldn’t keep you from doing what you love! Click here to learn how to practice BDSM safely while pregnant.
Have some kinky news to share? Tell us about any upcoming BDSM events, new products, dungeon openings / closings, collarings, kink in mainstream media, and anything else you think kinky folks might be interested to hear about. Send your tips through to email@example.com, and it might just end up on next week’s “This Week in Kink”
A few weeks back Kink Weekly posted an announcement about the Discover Your Personal Erotic Myth Survey. The focus was on the research analysis about to begin on the data from @4000 participants that have responded. It will be one of the largest Kink-focused research projects of its kind.
I wanted to discuss here why this type of research can be relevant for people exploring or actively living their Kink-sexuality.
The intent of the survey is to help people learn to deeply explore and embrace their personal sexual truths, Kink and otherwise.
Many participants been found the survey to be a useful tool in helping them gain insights into the specific nature of their sexual desires, particularly those in the more Kink-driven end of the scale. They could begin to identify specifics of what was compelling and what was not. Participants reported they were able to identify more clearly what resists or stands in the way of honest expression of their desires, and explore other relevant considerations to express their desires consensually with a partner.
I believe embracing the depths of our sexuality is critical to our personal well-being, our relationships, and our culture.
Everyone has a sexual birthright. No government, religion, culture, spouse, nor family member has any right to deny any individual their inherent right to be who they are sexually. This assumes their sexual engagements are enacted in conscious, negotiated, and impeccably consensual ways.
Sexual rights are human rights. Our sexuality, particularly the potent depths available through Kink should be celebrated, and explored often.
Shame, fear, and past trauma around our sexuality should be prudently and compassionately expelled from the body, mind, and soul like a disease.
I have been immersed in being a public and vocal advocate for our sexual rights for nearly 20 years. I am out 24/7 as an author, educator, Kink-positive therapist, and researcher in my professional life, and in my personal lifestyle, as a Kink-oriented man. I am a Dominant Erotic Sadist!
Though the research is preliminary, I believe that Kink, or what I call Fetishsexuality, is a life-long, inherent, innate sexual identity for some percentage of the gene-pool.
A Fetishsexual by my definition, is a person driven to orgasm or other deep erotic state through their innate, inherent, life-long desire for a particular range of primal or refined dominance, submission, sadism, masochism, and other archetypal, symbolic, mythic story-driven erotic expressions. I call this the internal sexual construct for an individual-their Personal Erotic Myth.
Fetishsexuality is on the same level, by the same criteria, that straight, bi, gay, or lesbian is considered an authentic sexual identity, as defined by the American Psychological Association.
The APA currently only focuses on identity in relation to gender, but I feel sexual-identity needs to be expanded in this era to allow for a broader context.
I have worked with hundreds of clients over the last 18 years, whose clear desire and intent was to come to terms with, explore, and understand their Kink-driven desires free of shame, fear, and past trauma.
Based on my direct experiences with clients and the findings from the Discover Your Personal Erotic Myth Survey, I hope to illuminate how and why Fetishsexuality is an innate aspect of certain people’s sexual psyche.
Kink can and should be practiced in a conscious, aware, mature, healthy manner by those so inclined. There are considerable depths of personal empowerment and healing that conscious engagement of one’s Fetishsexuality may offer (at least for the portion of the human gene-pool that I believe are innately and authentically Fetishsexuals).
The Discover Your Personal Erotic Myth research project will also examine the ways and evidence that unconscious personal and collective archetypes (Predator/prey, Mistress/slave, Daddy/daughter, Mommy/son et al), symbols (collars, dungeons, chains, belts, etc), and mythic erotic story-lines (being captured, held captive, being bare bottom spanked by an authority figure, worshiping an elevated figure) are commonly woven into the fabric of authentic Fetishsexuality.
The research will also examine the ways that threads of unconscious, embedded shame, trauma, fear, and judgment get tangled up and inhibit or thwart authentic sexual expression.
Such entanglements, if left unaddressed, can lead to the problematic shadow manifestations of our sexual expression – sexual secrecy, dishonesty, compulsivity, repression, boundary violations, self-harm, and more.
Until a few decades ago, any but the most fundamental sexual activities had been classified either by law, religion, or mental health providers as deviant, immoral, or in psychological terms, a paraphilia.
In other words, most people engaging in Fetishsexual practices were considered to be engaging in either an illegal or an immoral act or had a psychological disorder or all three.
Even though the DSM-V has de-pathologized and de-listed most consensual adult Kink interactions as paraphilias, there are many sectors within current psychological, legal, political, and social institutions that still display rampant Kinkphobia!
However, in these current times, the landscape of sexual identity and the pantheon of sexual practices an adult may choose or naturally participate in have been coming into a better and broader focus.
It is my opinion that the previous theories of human sexuality are not effective at holding the burgeoning reality of human sexuality that has erupted over the last 30 years since the dawn of the Internet Era.
I further believe that recognizing Fetishsexuality as a sexual identity would pave the way for more nuanced and effective psychological models of the sexual psyche to take shape, and hopefully lead to new therapeutic models that better support one in embracing their sexual authenticity, and healing all the ways it may have been traumatized, condemned, judged, feared, hated, or hidden.
It is time to update academic sexual theory and psychological therapy to include 21st century sexuality!
Further, with the sanction as a recognized sexual identity the potential to be slandered as a pathological deviant for being into Kink can be greatly reduced, if not eliminated.
Not having this designation can and does lead to profound impacts in real world battles in divorces, parenting rights, employment, and housing discrimination as well as many other areas of life.
Witness the ongoing, brutal history of the gay and lesbian movements fighting for their legal rights in all regards. The Kink communities are about where the gay, lesbian, and trans communities were 60 years ago.
To the greatest extent, my professional work seeks to help people untangle their authentic life-long Kink desires from the embedded shame, fear, and harsh judgments that may strongly resist or completely inhibit their desire.
Everyone should be encouraged to proudly claim their sexual birthright. Too many don’t.
In my client practice it has not been unusual for clients in their 40s or 50s to divulge that I am the first person they had ever revealed their desire to. For decades, they had hidden their desires from their partners, families, friends, and traditional therapists.
It did not feel safe to even talk about their desires, let alone enact them. This damaging fear of speaking honestly about something so absolutely integral to life and human fulfillment must be put to rest.
It is the intent of my work to contribute to creating a safer therapeutic, academic, political, and social environment for people to share their sexual truths without fear of being harshly judged, condemned, or ostracized.
It is up to each of us to take a stand in whatever ways we are able against the outdated, Kinkphobic laws and moral codes that inhibit claiming our sexual birthright. We need to take a stand so everyone can freely, joyously, and ecstatically express their sexuality- Kink and otherwise.
You can learn more about how I work with clients, my research, blog, and my highly acclaimed book, Decoding Your Kink – Guide to Explore, Share and Enjoy Your Wildest Sexual Desires, by clicking on the link below.
Click here for Part 2
About Galen Fous MTP
Kink-Positive Therapist, Author, Educator & Sex Researcher
Galen regularly speaks at universities, grad schools and conferences about sexuality and Kink. He offers AASECT and APA approved CE classes for therapists on various accredited online educational platforms. His research focuses on understanding the unconscious psychological dynamics of Kink, Fetish and D/s-BDSM sexuality. Galen Has a Masters in Transpersonal Psychology from ITP.
He works with clients within a Transpersonal psychology framework that helps individuals and couples get honest, shame-free and confident in expressing their authentic sexuality. Galen helps clients shift from compulsive, dishonest, risky sexual behaviors to negotiated, consensual authentic sexual practices. This framework includes resolving the embedded fear, shame and judgments entangling one’s desire.
An important component of his research into the nature of Fetishsexual and Kink desire is the development of the Discover Your Personal Erotic Myth Survey. ( http://galenfous.com/pem ) This ground-breaking and ongoing research survey with over 4000 participants so far, is the first study that begins to document the mythic archetypal aspects of Fetishsexuality by mapping of the sexual unconscious.
Galen’s latest book, “Decoding Your Kink – Guide to Explore, Share and Enjoy Your Wildest Sexual Desires” has been praised by sexual psychologists and educators as “Visionary …Masterful …Groundbreaking …Cutting Edge…Worth its Weight in Diamonds … Highly Recommended…A Must Read!” He is also the author of “The Sharp Edge of Love – Extreme Sex, Mythic Passion, Primal Intensity. Learn more at http://galenfous.com
In 2000, he introduced the world renowned Tetruss Shibari Suspension-Bondage Rig, Portable Dungeon, and Sex Swing, the world’s most versatile adult toy. (http://Tetruss.com)
I have noticed there are a lot of new individuals in the community that seem to be unclear about what a D type really is. A lot of these individuals are also unaware of the responsibilities that come with being any rendition of a D type.
Being a Dominant entails so much more than just telling people what to do and getting your fantasies met by doing so.
Sure, Doms can consensually tell others what to do, and in doing so get their needs and wants met. However, there is so much a Dom must consider before making a demand.
First, the s type’s hard limits must be considered as well as their soft limits. It would go against the job description of any Dom to do anything that would actually physically or mentally harm the s type. The Dom must always keep the sub safe.
Soft limits should also be considered because some soft limits are situationally- based as well as mentally-based. What I mean by this is, some soft limits are only safe to be explored in certain settings and/or when the sub is in a certain headspace or feeling a certain way.
Second, what the s type can realistically handle and can physically/mentally do should be considered as well. The Dom should NEVER set the sub up to purposefully fail (unless this has been pre-negotiated and consented to). Now, the Dom can ask for things that might be trying and/or challenging for the sub (again as long as it is consensual and no hard limits are crossed). However, if the Dom knows that what is being asked has no chance of being successful, then I would highly recommend not asking for said thing. Furthermore, if what you wish to ask for is very important to you, you could potentially train the sub on what they cannot do at this time (in hopes that they can perform the task or fulfill the order in the future). Please note, that there are some things that cannot be trained and other things that can. It’s the Dom’s job to gather enough information to know the difference.
It’s also important to not get upset and/or angry at where the s type is currently. It’s always more beneficial to accept the s type, and proactively and practically work with them to help them serve you better. It’s totally acceptable to correct the s type’s behavior, but be careful not to correct who they are. This could negatively affect their self esteem.
If you find that you no longer wish to be in a power exchange dynamic with your sub, then that’s your right as well, and the healthiest break up protocols should be followed by all parties (these should be dynamic-specific).
Again, if you choose to stay with your submissive, it’s important to work with them as a team or at least consider them a part of the team even if all parties have agreed that the sub is considered less than the Dominant.
Third, the Dom should always take into account their own mental state and physical state. You may wish to discipline or punish at a particular moment, but realizing you should not punish until you calm down can be a sign of an aware Dom with great self control. Self control is paramount for both D types and s types. It can be your best friend when you want to do something, but realize you are not in the best headspace to do said thing.
I am also not recommending that punishments and/or discipline get thrown to the wayside because you are too angered and/or upset. I am merely suggesting to recognize when you are experiencing negative emotions that could impede your judgment, and then postpone punishment/discipline until you are in a calmer state. For example, you could tell your sub you will have their punishment for them within 24 hours, or let them know you need five minutes to cool off before talking to them about this, or you could tell them to wait in the corner and think about what they have done until you have calmed down (which would begin the punishment even before you are calm enough to continue talking about the matter). These are just a few options. There are many more to choose from.
Bottom line, the important thing is that you are always fair and just-even when punishing, disciplining, and/or correcting. When emotions are heightened that can put fairness and justice on the back burner. Just like a submissive may have to train on specific skills, so might a Dominant. The difference in training is that the sub has the Dom leading the training, process, and the Dom has to lead their own training (unless the Dom has a D type of their own or a mentor). Doms are people too, and their emotions need to kept in check just as much as subs.
Often, Doms are role models for their subs. With this being said, it would be in the Dom’s/relationship’s best interest to model the behavior and/or core values they wish the sub to exhibit/live by. I am in no way saying that Dominants should act submissive, or behave exactly like their s types, or have the same behavior protocols. I am merely stating that if a Dominant wants their submissive to be honest, they themselves should be honest.
I have often heard debates on whether or not Doms should apologize to their subs and/or talk to them about their errors.
I am a firm believer that it is the D type’s responsibility to own their error and make necessary modifications as needed. Now do they need to grovel or give a lengthy apology?- NO!
But they at least need to be willing to adjust things so the s type is safe and not put under potentially harmful physical and/or mental strain.
It’s human to have too high or unrealistic expectations. I am sure these things happen in nearly every power exchange relationship. And that’s totally okay. The essential thing for Doms is that you make healthier adjustments as needed. This requires you to be flexible, humble, and caring about your s type’s well-being to some degree.
In short, it’s important to know when to healthily/consensually push, and when to modify. Every situation is different, and a Dom’s task is often to balance challenge and adjustment.
It’s also important for a Dom to carefully observe not only the s type’s words and overt actions, but also their subtler mannerisms such as body language. You can often learn more about what the sub thinks and who they are by paying attention to these things. Doms who note these kinds of things will have more success in knowing when to push and when to pull back.
I have always heard mindfulness talked about from a sub’s and slave’s perspective, but mindfulness is greatly needed for everyone in any kind of dynamic.
Unhealthy implementation of dominance can create resentment, willful disobedience, and even dynamic dissolution. Healthy dominance can breed respect, trust, happiness, obedience, and a very strong foundation for any power exchange dynamic.
The D type wields all or most of the power in a relationship and/or scene. Because of this, it is up to them to set the tone and establish the path the dynamic will be on.
Of course, it is the responsibility of the s type to want to serve and to follow what the D type has prescribed. However, the D type is the leader and creates the overall ambiance of the exchange/relationship.
In closing, D types should be humble, logical, stable, understanding, intelligent, and in tune with their s types (this last point may vary based on whether one is talking about a scene, a power exchange relationship, or pick-up play. Nonetheless, the D type must be in tune with the s type to some degree. The D type cannot act as if the s type isn’t there and their boundaries don’t exist).
I hope this article has helped others gain a better understanding of D types’ responsibilities.
As always, thanks for reading and stay tuned!
Click here for the sister article- Healthy Submission
About the Author:
Slave Bunny, a 1950’s power slave, is involved in a wonderful and loving TPE 24/7 M/S relationship with her Master and husband. She is also the Creative Director of Kink Weekly.
She has dedicated her life to working on herself mentally, spiritually, and physically, and hopes to inspire others to do the same. Through teaching and mentoring, she hopes to help everyone in the Kink community as much as she can.
Feel free to add her on Fetlife (Slave_Bunny992) to see her upcoming workshops and classes.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and we are in no way advocates of any kind of abuse, non-consensual behavior, crossing any hard limits, putting any one in harm’s way (physically/mentally/emotionally/spiritually), or violating one’s boundaries/what was pre-negotiated.
With this being said, enjoy the story!
It’s hot outside. I’m sitting in my van with the windows rolled up and the AC on. The radio is playing an obnoxious song from a band that sounds like every other band on this station. I’ve tuned it out though. It’s just background noise. I look up and glance at myself briefly in my rear view mirror- mascara hasn’t melted, lip salve is rosy as ever.
“Open the door. Climb down. Go inside. Don’t be a pussy, just do it”, I say to myself, thinking maybe if it’s demanded of me, then I won’t be so nervous. That if it’s a command, I’ll follow through.
Transitioning from the cool 68 degrees in the car, to the humid 92 outside makes my skin tingle. It gives me goosebumps. Stepping down from the van I have to be very careful not to reveal anything. Not to show anyone how naked I really am.
You told me not to wear anything underneath my skirt, and I’m a good girl, so I obeyed you.
The feel of the air moving up from underneath me as I jump down tickles me in places I shouldn’t give attention to in public. I can’t help but wonder how long it’s going to take before my juices start running down my legs. I’m turned on by just being here.
I’ve never not worn panties in public before.
I feel like everyone around me must know.
In their heads they must be thinking, “That slut. Spreading her legs for men other than her husband”, and “Can you believe her? Have some self dignity and cover yourself up!”. …”Act like a lady!” “This is not how a mother of 5 should behave!.” “You’re disgusting!”.
But- you told me to do it. And I want to be so very good for you.
Besides. Nobody REALLY knows that there’s nothing but dirty girl sexual tension underneath my clothing. For all they know, I’m a nun.
I walk into the coffee shop where the temperature goes back to freezing, keep going straight ahead with my eyes somewhat down, and then get in line.
Iced or hot? Iced or hot?
If I get iced, I’m going to find myself seductively biting my straw. But if I get hot, all of my lip tint will rub off on the cup as I sip from it. What I’m really hoping for is that the mix of rose salve and blush will rub off on you instead.
Iced. I’ll let you watch me play with the straw with my tongue. I want to draw as much attention to my mouth as possible. I want you to imagine my mouth pleasing you.
The line moves forward a step. I’m trying not to glance around with wide eyes wondering where you are. I refuse to look up. Please come find me.
While I stand, I read the back of the shirt of the person in front of me. I stare at a basket full of overpriced reusable plastic cups covered in logos, and I focus on my breathing.
It’s my turn to order. Please let this take a very long time because I really don’t want to have to make eye contact with anyone other than the cashier.
Small coconut milk iced latte. I’m jittery enough. The less caffeine the better.
The gal behind the counter compliments me on my dreadlocked hair. I smile and thank her, and just as I’m about to plug my card into the chip reader-
“There you are”, comes a voice from beside me, and quickly I feel the heat and pressure of a large, strong hand on the small of my back.
I hold my breath.
You’ve found me. You’re touching me. Please want me.
Frozen in place, I stand there like a deer in headlights as you move around me, hand still making contact and lowering down to my backside. You put your card in the reader instead. You smile at me quickly, and then make small talk with the cashier, who is asking you something about the weather, or maybe how you like the americano she made you. I’m actually not sure what either of you are saying because your hand is on my ass and I’m concentrating on clenching my legs together so I don’t let anything escape.
Oh, but shit- you just payed for me. You shouldn’t have done that. I mean, that was nice and all, but, is that how we’re doing this? This isn’t a date, right? This is more of a- thing?
The line has to keep moving, so you give my ass a nudge, and we walk over to the drink counter. There’s a lot of noise surrounding us- relaxing me enough to raise my eyes and look around. Lots of people on laptops, a few business meetings, maybe a moms group or something. They call out my drink, and I reach for it with a shaky hand.
I’m so nervous.
I wonder if the barista knows how wet I am right now. Does she get wet when she’s helping a hot customer?
I look away from her as quickly as I can. This is torture.
Your hand moves from my ass to my arm, and you start leading me to a small table in the back corner. Someone has just gotten up from it, and we move past them on their way out. It was perfect timing.
I have to carefully smooth out my skirt before sitting down-mostly checking to make sure there isn’t an obvious wet spot on the back of it- and cross my legs carefully as I descend upon the seat. I can feel the slickness as I bend, and I’m praying to god I don’t make a mess of this chair.
You sit down directly across from me. That drink that the cashier was asking you about before is suddenly in your hand. And you’re staring right at me.
I can’t help but smile and bite my lip the way that I do when I have dirty thoughts running through my mind. I realize what I’m doing, being awkward and silent, so I force myself to speak.
“Thank you for the coffee”, I say, and raise the straw to my mouth.
You stare at me only a few seconds longer, and then you say, with a completely serious, yet casual look on your face, “Spread your legs”. Followed by silence, and a smile.
My eyes widen. And so do my legs.
I’m chewing on the straw now, exactly how I knew I would. You didn’t skip a beat, did you? My heart is racing a little bit faster and my cheeks must be beginning to blush. I smile back, and simply say, “Yes,” trying to keep my voice as casual as yours.
“Good girl”, you say back.
You know how wet those words make me.
I continue seducing my straw- bending it back and forth with my tongue between sips.
As I’m pawing my mind for something to break the silence, you begin telling me about your drive. You’re going into detail about your morning and the gas station that you stopped at before heading down south-silly chatter to fill the space between us.
And then I feel your hand under the table on my knee.
I pause my straw chewing and let out a small gasp.
I try to recover with, “Oh yeah, I never win from scratch off tickets either,” trying not to ruin the cover conversation.
As you speak, your fingertips slip beneath the edge of my skirt, and your hand starts slowly moving up my thigh. You’re talking about chicken wings and how you used to get them all the time with your dad when you were a kid, and how now you always get them with your son.
I see your mouth moving and I hear your voice, but I’m having a very hard time following the actual story. Chicken wings. Car. Summer.
I spread my legs wider- my body’s natural reaction to your slow going movement up my skin. Surely, you’re going to pull your hand back at any second, and that will have been that. This is all a tease. You asked me to leave my panties at home so you could tease me. To make me want.
I’m nodding along to what you say, trying to act as if nothing abnormal is happening under the table that we’re sharing. Occasionally saying things like “Oh, me too,” and “Of course.” You’ve just finished talking about a hiking trip you took last weekend, when you clear your throat, and raise your coffee cup to your mouth.
As you’re taking your sip, you stare directly into my eyes, and your hand takes a swift yet graceful leap. I feel your fingers plunge smoothly inside of my wanting, needy pussy.
Both of my hands slam down on the table, and I suck in a loud breath of air.
Not a tease. You’re finger fucking me in a coffee shop.
You lower your cup from your mouth, and continue talking. What is even happening here? Is the hand that’s slowly working its way in and out of my pulsating womanhood the same hand that’s attached to the person flawlessly speaking to me?
I hear nothing now, and you must know this. I’m trying so hard to keep my breathing steady as you curl your fingers upward, and find that spot that no woman on earth can resist.
I’m having a difficult time keeping my eyes open all the way. And an even harder time keeping myself from rocking my hips. Oh my god there are like 40 people in here with us. I can’t believe you’re doing this.
I bring my hand over my mouth to let out a muffled moan, and turn my head to see if anyone heard me.
Our secret is safe.
You’re knuckles deep up cunt river and not a single person here, other than us, has any idea.
How are you still talking? Something, something bonfire, something, something bourbon, something, something swimming. I have no idea what you’re rambling about and I don’t care.
Is it hot in here? Anyone?
…there’s a thumb circling my clit now. Are you fucking serious?
You are obviously very pleased with yourself because you keep smiling at me with a devilish grin between speaking words about god knows what.
People are moving around the coffee shop as if nothing is happening. Walking past us to the bathrooms and back. A delivery driver dropping off a box in the back.
My eyes keep rolling back in my head and my lips keep trembling, breath becoming jagged. As your fingers slip and slide along my tight wet walls, I almost can’t control myself.
Suddenly your tone changes. You set down your coffee on the table with a gentle thud, and remind me, “Be a good girl”.
Right. Yes. I’m being ridiculous. I need to calm down. Be good. Listen to him.
“Keep looking at me, and behave, girl,” you command.
Yes. I will behave.
My eyes are locked on yours, and I’m being as still and quiet as I possibly can- just like you’ve instructed. And then you add another finger, and I let out a moan loud enough to turn heads from the table behind us.
I try to cover up the sound of my pleasure by clearing my throat and asking you with a shaky voice about where you plan to hike next, and you say, “I like to think of it more as exploring. …and I’m exploring something rather beautiful and dangerous right now”.
My hands grip the sides of the table, my mouth opens wide in a silent O. I clench my eyes shut, throw my head back, and I let my body shudder with the rush of intense waves of pleasure that are pouring over me from head to toe.
I’m leaning back in my chair, ass scooted down and towards you, trying desperately to catch my breath as quickly as my exercised lungs will allow. I look up, we lock eyes- and I see that fucking grin looking back at me.
I shake my head no. You shake your head yes.
In a few seconds when I can finally regain the ability to speak, I say “We have to leave. Now”.
There is no way that went unnoticed. How fast can I get from this side of the store to the door? When I stand up am I going to flood the place with the leftovers from my orgasm?
You’re still smiling. No, you’re laughing. You think this is funny?
You love it.
I take a deep steadying breathe, stand up without looking at ANYONE, grab your hand with a tug, and start walking, leaving my coffee sitting on the table.
Click here for Part 2
About the Author:
Paige is a 34 year old dreadlock mama, currently living in Virginia, exploring her deepest desires to be primally dominated. She has spent the last 12 years as a housewife, but has quietly fantasized long enough, and is now beginning her kinky journey to self realization and true pleasure. Paige writes erotica based off of a combination of personal fantasy and experience.
When discussing BDSM play techniques, we frequently talk about floggers, canes and whips. But, there is a softer, and equally important, part of BDSM that is often overlooked. And that is the art of sensual bondage. It might not be as dramatic, but it is sexy, beautiful and often just as thrilling as the most edgy of edge play.
For many submissives, just the touch of the rope is exhilarating; the simple act of being tied up by rope is a rush. It does not have to be tight; it does not have to be complex; it does not have to be escape-proof. The beauty of sensual bondage is that it offers yet another a way of experiencing the adrenaline rush that often is at the heart of a BDSM scene.
Since most BDSM play is based on a negotiated power exchange, there is no need to expertly tie the submissive Shibari-style. Basic rope work can serve a scene just as effectively as the most complex rope techniques serve its scene.
Wrist and leg ties are perhaps the most popular ties in erotic bondage. Once immobilized, the Top can (remember, we are talking about erotic bondage) stroke and play with the submissive.
Breast bondage is also relatively uncomplicated and does not have to involve pain. I am sure you have seen pictures of extreme breast bondage, wherein the breast can turn colors. (I do not recommend this for beginners!) But, simple, almost pain-free breast bondage can be just as exhilarating. When performing sensual rope bondage, don’t neglect the esthetics of the scene; it is part of its appeal.
Finally, when you wish to get to a more advanced style of sensual rope bondage, the rope dress is usually part of the program. Obviously more complex, it still has none of the pain or restraint aspects of total immobilization.
The beauty of sensual bondage is that you can experiment and invent new ways to use rope virtually risk-free. Since the ties are loose, there is little chance of injury.
I would be remiss if I didn’t stress safety – even in sensual play. What might be light play for most, can be heavy play for others. Being tied up, no matter how loosely, can be frightening for some bottoms – especially in public play in front of an audience. Even in light rope bondage, one should always follow these basic safety rules, which are:
Always discuss, and agree to beforehand, your safe words.
If you see the bottom in mental pain, end the scene. Even if he/she does not safe.
Don’t cut off circulation. Check to see that one finger fits between the bonds and the skin.
If you see skin discoloration, or other signs of severe discomfort, stop the scene whether the submissive is safe or not.
Don’t put rope around the neck, ever.
Have bandage scissors at the ready.
As I have stressed at nausea, “you can never be too safe.”
Now, as an added bonus, it is time for the rope tip of the day! Don’t use cotton rope. It frays and snags very easily and can lock too tight. And never use clothesline or nylon-synthetic blends. The best all-purpose rope is 3/8th’s to 5/8th’s inch nylon rope. And, as an added bonus, nylon rope is readily available in an array of colors. (The more advanced riggers use, in addition to the nylon we discussed, three other different types of rope: hemp, jute and multi-fiber polypropylene. But that is for another article!)
As I have stressed here at kinkweekly.com, there is no one way to do BDSM. To paraphrase, “Different strokes, or non-strokes, for different folks!”
So, if this type of bondage turns you on, simply follow the safety rules and, as the Nike ads say, “Just do it!”
About the Author:
After a ten year run as head writer for the legendary bondage.com, and an equally long run as the host of the hit internet show “Baadmaster’s Dungeon,” we are pleased to welcome the one and only Baadmaster to KinkWeekly. His thoughts about all things BDSM will now appear regularly on these pages. From the mental aspects of D/s to the nuts and bolts of S&M play, Baadmaster will cover every facet of this ever expanding lifestyle.
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I’ve heard this phrase get passed around a couple of times since I entered the scene, and it started to get to me the third or fourth time it came up.
“I don’t have a submissive bone in my body.”
Spoken not by a D-type, but by female s-types who were trying their best to distance themselves from the worst thing a woman can be in today’s modern society. It makes zero sense that we should be so terrified of being associated with a word that many of us s-types find empowering. When I claimed my identity as a submissive, it made me feel ultimately in control of my life and of my body. I literally felt taller, like I was rocking invisible heels 24/7.
Even writing this now, I had to strangle the impulse to explain how strong-willed I am as a woman, and how not submissive my personality is. I guess I just found a way to do it. However, none of us s-types should have to feel the pressure to apologize for our orientation.
There’s a big difference between the definition of a “submissive,” and a person who uses the word as an identifier. In the same way that queer now serves as a broad stroke label for anybody not straight, submissive is so much more than a word. I know the modern woman is supposed to be determined, self-sufficient, and impossible to tame. And you know what? We are. As s-types, we are the definition of those things; Our submission isn’t taken, it’s given.
Unfortunately, the Vanilla World doesn’t see it that way. Most vanilla people condemn those in the Kink Community as extreme and/or perverted. To further align yourself as a submissive adds another level of judgment from vanilla individuals, one that’s a lot harder to come back from. Especially if you’re a female s-type, you suddenly have to deal with justifying who you are to everyone plus yourself.
Women are hardwired to constantly pick at our reflections, both literally and metaphorically. We evaluate ourselves, berate ourselves, and starve ourselves. We are told to be stronger, smarter, kinder, prettier…all of the things. And more. But the one thing we can’t be is submissive, because historically that was something forced on us as a gender. So there’s a world of things we’re supposed to be, and then there’s a list of things we are forbidden to be. If you cross the lines or ignore the rules, you’re weak. That’s what we’re told. That’s why we justify, justify, justify. Some women who identify as s-types are terrified, not of who they are, but by the letter s. Whether you’re a submissive, slave, pet, babygirl, or something else on the s side of the slash, you’re the boogeyman of modern feminism…at first glance. But what if we pull back the covers and look under the bed for a second?
Feminism is about choice, not what you choose. So, if we are self-aware enough and brave enough to choose something that goes against the status quo, we’re creating a new definition for what it means to be an empowered woman. Instead of distancing ourselves from words that the Vanilla World cringes at out of ignorance, we should actually be reclaiming them. Submission is sexy. It’s one half of a delectable D/s power dynamic that most people in the scene are in some way or another searching for. We have no reason to play offense or defense as s-types. We definitely don’t need to prove ourselves to our vanilla friends. Furthermore, instead of saying things like “I don’t have a submissive bone in my body,” we should be embracing the fact that we bring our submissive tendencies to the table. It’s unfair of us to evaluate who we are by vanilla standards.
My hope is that we can move towards inclusion and acceptance as a community, especially those of us on the s side of the slash. It’s all too common to find s-types who have low self-esteem, or s-types who appear superficially confident because they need to assert how dominant they are in the rest of their life. We are valuable human beings. We don’t need to tear each other down to feign strength. Being an s-type takes strength! Instead, let’s walk taller and demand more from the world around us. Let’s say who we are and cut out the explanations. They aren’t necessary, and really, if we’re being honest, who doesn’t love an enthusiastic submissive?
About the Author:
If you look up the definition of “green,” you will find the name Eden alongside a picture of a girl tripping over her own feet. Eden has been writing for years and is also an actor and a karaoke enthusiast. She has been active in the BDSM community for nearly three months and can often be found assisting at kink events in the LA area. She hopes her writing will reach other new people in the scene so they can know they are not alone.
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For Part 1 Click Here
“I heard I may fuck your mouth without a condom,” said a disembodied voice from above me.
I nodded again.
“But if you let me out I can do it better.”
“Well, well, a rebellious O! I will grant your wish this one time, and think up something else for you afterward.”
I was completely naked before midnight. The guy that removed me from the pillory really wanted to punish me for speaking without being spoken to, even though I blew him and dutifully swallowed everything. He demanded I take off my dress and choose a whip. The wall of my little pillory cell was festooned with them. He said he intended to take me into one of the larger rooms so more people could watch. When things are done to me I really don’t care who watches and who doesn’t. I chose a snake whip about a meter and a half long – a soft whip that would hurt without leaving any lasting marks – and took it back to him. He wasn’t bad looking – tall and gaunt with enough gray hair to look a bit distinguished. It wouldn’t have mattered if he were Quasimodo’s twin brother. An O does not choose the men who will torture and fuck her. Her mission is to suffer and serve with grace regardless. The man got everything ready for my punishment. Three other men had gathered to observe. One of them said I had pretty feet, both an asset and a liability with this crowd.
“We should play with those too,” he suggested helpfully.
They laid me on my stomach over a wooden sawhorse, took off my sandals tied my ankles folded against my knees, leaving my upturned feet available for legs some really painful bastinado. They hit the soles with a riding crop and a bamboo stick until I felt tears burn my eyes. Then they lifted me up and attached me by my arms to one of the rings in the ceiling. The chain was pulled so tight that my body was completely stretched, barely standing on the tips of my toes. The tall man I’d blown before took position behind me while the other two stood in front of me to watch.
“Look at that, she cries.”
“Nice. I knew someone like her would really enjoy the bastinado.”
Is crying evidence of enjoyment? I’d be lying if I denied it might be. My feet felt like they were on fire and my arches were already cramping but it was the thought of being struck again where I had so recently been lashed with the branches that made my eyes spill over.
Behind me I heard the whirring of the whip. As it hit my back the impact made my body lunge forward. I had really hoped for a quieter evening. He only gave me twenty strokes but they were all vicious and aimed at the spots where I was already wounded. When the snake wrapped around my belly I finally let out a good scream, which was all he wanted, I guess. They let me off the chain left me lying on the sawhorse, mercifully facedown. Through the haze of pain, I realized that I hadn’t been properly fucked yet and wanted to be.
A bit after midnight I found myself fairly exhausted, tied to the posts of a bed with two very painful clamps on my nipples. I had gotten my wish and then some. Four guys fucked me and departed. I’d come with the third one, who knew just how to work me. I’m not that complicated in this condition.
The door was open, welcoming to anyone interested in visiting me. I’d shut my eyes, attempting to relax a little bit. The clamps on my nipples made this difficult. I heard Federico’s voice.
“Ah, there you are, princess. I see you’re enjoying yourself.”
I opened my eyes and gave him the dirtiest look I could manage. What I actually wanted to say was better swallowed. I’d had enough punishment for today. He gave me that gorgeous little smile, bent down and caressed my left breast almost tenderly.
“I will take them off of you. Be brave.”
As much as the clamps hurt while attached, their bite was nothing in comparison to the agony that occurred when they came off and the blood flowed back into the points of my breasts. I must have reared up and moaned pretty loudly because Federico released my hands and feet, took me in his arms, caressed my hair and kissed me softly on the head.
“Time for a little break, princess?”
I nodded gratefully.
At these events Mentors were allowed to remove their O’s from the game to go pee, have something to drink, or if they were simply unable to continue with the rest of the evening. This wouldn’t happen in The League, but at less serious events like, a Nuit d’ O, it was generally permitted to take a girl out of action.
Federico sat me down at the bar, removed my red collar and set it down on the counter, a signal for all other men to leave me alone. He got me some water and disappeared to find my dress and sandals.
I didn’t see his caring side often, but was very fond of it and thankful when he let it show. I couldn’t be happy with a man who was too kind but when I feel kindness has been earned with suffering, I welcome it gladly.
Some of the other O’s still stood against the wall opposite the bar. They hadn’t been used at all this evening, at least not as yet. They were pretty girls and willing, seeming a bit forlorn about remaining unclaimed. Who knows why certain girls are chosen and others not? There were only three or four men milling about, the rest busy enjoying themselves in the back rooms. I jumped from the feeling of a cool hand on my back. A strangely dark but pleasant feminine voice tried to reassure me.
“The marks on your back aren’t that bad, little one. Tomorrow you’ll barely be able to see them. Alas for your butt though. Did they do that today?”
The woman who belonged to the voice was about thirty. She wore a dark blue O dress with gold and silver trim made of the finest silk. It must have cost a fortune. The dress went well with her blue and black peep-toes and black-painted toenails. She was tall. Her full breasts, which had been skillfully augmented, sat atop her bodice as if on a throne. Their upper curves were covered in light welts. Her eyes were bright blue. In every way, she was a rare beauty.
“No, the butt is a souvenir from yesterday. I was punished for arriving late.”
She caressed a few swollen stripes on my hip.
“Someone quite sadistic must have gotten his hands on you, hmm?”
She had a distinct Viennese accent.
“Not just his hands either.”
Turning towards her I noticed a tattoo in ornate lettering reading “Roissy” on her smoothly shaved pussy, She had thick, rosy labia. The right one was pierced with two golden rings. They glistened in between her lips. She was either freshly used or very aroused.
“What’s your name?”
“Lucia. I belong to Leo, the big bald guy over there. We go to these events three or four times a year. And you?”
“My mentor is Federico. He’s in the back right now looking for my clothing. We belong to The League. Ever heard of it?”
She shook her head.
“I haven’t but maybe Leo has.”
I took a sip of water and smiled at her.
“It gets a bit rougher there than here,” I said.
She smiled back at me, making her even more beautiful.
“I don’t really care for pain. I just tolerate it here for Leo,” she explained. “But I do enjoy being fucked roughly. Even by numerous men.”
She shrugged nonchalantly.
“I’ve only been fucked here twice so far. It’s a bit disappointing.”
I had to laugh. I had been thinking that same thing not so long ago. It had been a careless and costly wish.
“Are you allowed to play with other Os?”
“Well, why not? Are you interested?”
I pointed at the open “V” of her legs.
“You have a very appealing pussy. I’d like to lick it.”
Before she could answer, she averted her eyes and curtseyed perfectly, then took a step back.
“Your things, princess,” Federico said. “Get dressed and finish your conversation later. Cora’s initiation begins in ten minutes.”
He gave Lucia a look, cradled one of her breasts in his hand.
Pretty. Very pretty. Who do you belong to?”
“Hm. I don’t know him. When Cora’s whipping is over, you will report to me. I will use you then. You are available anally, I hope?”
“Yes, Sir. As you wish.”
Lucia obediently kept her eyes down.
I touched his arm.
“Federico, may I ask you something?”
Without taking his eyes off Lucia he granted me permission to speak.
“If you use Lucia, may I participate? I like her, and want to lick her. She has such a nice pussy, have you noticed?”
He shot a look at her pussy, then back at me and smiled that smile.
“You are a shameful slut. But yes, of course you can participate. When I fuck her in the ass, you can lick her pussy and my balls.”
A bell chimed loudly and suddenly. The liveried servants entered the room. One of them had a little stool with him. He stepped up on it and attached a small pulley strung with black rope to a hook in the ceiling. A carabiner dangled from each end of the rope. The ring in the ceiling was located near the entrance through which people flowed in, one after the other.
Cora’s initiation was imminent.
Cora and the Consigliere joined us at the bar. Leo waved Lucia over to stand by him.
Cora seemed tense, understandably.
“Nervous?” I asked her quietly.
“Scared,” she whispered back. The Consigliere laid his hand on her back in a calming gesture. His expression was serious for reasons of his own. I often wondered what he was thinking. It wasn’t always easy to tell. Did he have reservations about his new O?
If Cora had been my O, I would have had doubts. She had told me more than once that she felt drawn to The League and fascinated by the ways of our community. She adored the Consigliere but really feared the pain of the whip and being used by so many strange men. I wondered if this life was truly right for her.
We would soon see how wisely Alexander had chosen.
Two more liveried servants, along with the host, made their way to the center of the room.
The benefactor of the Soiree, I will call him Charles, was about fifty, with sparse, graying hair and a bit of a paunch. He wasn’t tall, but wore a very expensive black-vested suit, a white-silk shirt with shiny cufflinks and a bowtie. His black shoes were polished to a high shine. He was quite the elegant and authoritative lord of his modernistic manor, yet another man who stood taller on top of his wallet.
Charles opened his arms in an inviting gesture, summoning the flock of guests to gather round. The bell sounded again to quiet them down. Before Charles could speak, a female cry of agony ripped through the silence, followed by another, and another. One of the servants hustled out and the silence was quickly restored, though the screams lingered in the mind like a jarring note in a symphony.
“Distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen, I am very pleased to welcome you this evening and to host a soiree d’ O in our home again,” James proclaimed.
He spoke German with a unique accent I couldn’t place. He repeated the welcome in a Slavic language, then in English.
“We have the honor today to witness an initiation. Again, a beautiful young woman has chosen to follow the rules of O and to join our kind.”
As he spoke, he slowly turned to Cora and Alexander.
“It’s my pleasure to introduce Alexander and Cora from Vienna.”
There was quiet applause as Cora came forward with her eyes averted to stand under the ring in the middle of the ceiling. Alexander never took his hand from her back.
“Are you ready?”
Charles’ question was directed at Cora, but his eyes were on Alexander, who looked over at his new O. Cora nodded bravely. Alexander also nodded, then took his hand from her shoulder, stood behind her and began unlacing her corset.
Charles turned back to the audience.
“According to our rules, Cora will now receive the whip.”
He reached out to take a two-meter-long blacksnake from a servant. Charles held it up for the audience to see. It was exquisitely made, with a wooden handle covered in leather and a silver emblem on the pommel.
“She will be given five dozen strokes. Per the requirements of this rite, she must be completely naked and remain naked the rest of the evening.”
Alexander finished with the laces. The corset fell open on Cora’s back.
Two servants entered with a type of spanking bench about the height of a table. They set the bench down next to Cora. Two O’s appeared with four men. One of the O’s, a tall, lean brunette in a red dress, had been crying. Her makeup ran in streaks down her face. As she walked over to her companion and fell into his arms I noticed her corset was open behind. Her entire back from shoulders to thighs was striped with welts from a crop, some bloody. Her companion took a look at the evidence, ran his fingers over her ass, smiled and whispered something in her ear.
Charles resumed his duties as master of ceremonies.
“Gentlemen, this is the bench where Cora will service all of you sexually after the whipping is complete. She will be available to everyone present, including my servants.”
He looked over at Cora, who was just slipping out of the rest of her dress. She shook visibly, carefully keeping her balance as she slipped off her shoes. A spotlight beamed across the room to where she stood, naked and trembling, to be whipped.
She was radiantly lovely in this moment, the few small tears glistening in her pretty blue eyes making her even more so.
“The Soiree will end at three a.m. I request the gentlemen be finished with Cora by that time. Thank you very much.”
As he delivered the same information in two more languages I watched the eager gazes of the men and the strangely envious expressions of the women as they eyed Cora’s naked body. None of them would have wanted to trade places with her for this particular ceremony but all would have loved to be the center of so much attention.
“I wish everyone a libidinous night and a safe trip home,” Charles concluded. “Let the initiation begin!”
Everyone applauded. One of the servants lifted Cora’s hands, climbed up on the stool and clipped both her wrist cuffs to the karabiner on one end of the rope. He grabbed the other end, jumped down off the stool and began to pull. Wheels rolled in the block under the ceiling, stretching Cora until her heels lifted and she stood on the balls of her feet. Like a sailor, the servant belayed the loose end of the rope around a hook fastened to the wall.
Two more servants flipped up rings set in the floor, spread Cora’s legs and connected her ankle cuffs to them.
Dangling on the tips of her big toes, clinging with her hands to the rope above her, Cora pressed her lips together, for the moment uncaring about The League’s minor prohibitions as she braced herself for what was to come. There is a difference between tough and being stubborn. Cora was about to learn it the same way we all had.
One of the servants – tall, bald and muscular – slipped out of his livery bottoms and shirt to reveal an impressive and impressively tattooed physique. His brutish nakedness, the more so for the enormity of his cock which grew hard just at the contemplation of the cruelty ahead, seemed to make Cora’s all the more delicate. Charles gave him the whip and signaled him with a quick hand movement. Cora now belonged to him until his work with her was done. The tattooed man stepped in behind her and unrolled the whip. He glanced at Alexander who still stood next to his O.
I saw Alexander whisper something in Cora’s ear but she didn’t react at all, keeping her eyes closed tight. Alexander whispered something else. This time Cora nodded. I didn’t have to hear the words to know what was said. In this place a new life begins with a nod. The Consigliere softly caressed Cora’s back and stepped aside.
The tattooed man weighed the whip in his hand, gauging the distance between him and Cora’s naked, light-skinned body. Then he wound up the leather coils.
The hiss of the whip shooting through the air through the air was very familiar to me. So was the snapping report it produced as it made contact with Cora’s flesh. The pain that followed was the part I remembered best.
Watching this made me very wet again. My pussy didn’t seem at all troubled by the two-dozen fucks it had endured thus far. My asshole still burned like hell of course and the rest of my whipped ass was anything but comfortable. As usual, my pussy was indifferent to my miseries elsewhere. No, that’s not quite right. My pussy wants what the rest of me dreads.
Cora’s pelvis thrust forward with each blow of the whip, forcing her to display herself obscenely. She moaned at the first few strokes, sounding almost surprised. She had underestimated the magnitude of the pain, just as I’d suspected.
After a few lashes to her ass the tattooed man stopped to gather Cora’s black hair and push it forward over her shoulder. That way he had a clear shot at her back.
He reassumed his position and flung the whip down across her shoulder blades. I thought I saw beads of sweat on Cora’s cheeks. Or were they tears?
A dozen strokes later Cora’s moans rose to cries. Every bite of the whistling leather brought more anguish. When the whip first hits it doesn’t hurt all that much, except when the end wraps around, accelerating until that nasty split cracker hits you someplace in front. But no matter how accurately the whip is used the pain builds, intensifying fairly quickly. It’s especially terrible when the tip hits the soft parts: the armpits, the upper rib cage, on the tits or around the pelvis. It’s pretty much impossible to hold back a cry when these spots are struck.
Whether I screamed loudly, or whether I screamed at all, while being whipped, I can’t exactly say. Under such circumstances, and also when being used by strangers, I would basically drift off. I can’t remember many details.
By the second dozen lashes, Cora screamed at the top of her lungs with every stroke. Tears cascaded over her face. At one point, her gaze searched frantically for Alexander. He nodded to her softly. At that very moment the whip curled around her entire body, the business end landing right on the side of her breast. Cora’s eyes shot open. She shrieked and began shaking her head. A second circling strike followed. This one struck a bit above the other, drawing a fine, red line right under her nipple.
I have seen these things many times before, as well as experiencing them personally. Perhaps I have become insensitive from overexposure but the sight of agony hardly moves me. It’s the sound I can never get used to.
God, I wanted to cover my ears, but that was not permitted. Any sign of distress by any of us O’s would only make us a part of that distress.
Cora sobbed desperately. She couldn’t stop shaking her head. The next blow was the worst, slashing directly across Cora’s left nipple. The tattooed man seemed to be a master of this discipline. Federico came up behind me, his strong arms circling my corseted waist. He asked quietly if I was enjoying the show. He also reminded me that Cora’s troubles were none of my concern, a warning I knew better than to ignore.
After that particularly vicious cut the tattooed man paused again, gesturing to one of the servants to approach. They spoke quietly for a moment.
Cora panted, hanging by her cuffs. Her head fell forward, still shaking back and forth. Her voice was soft, but clear.
“No, no. Stop. Enough. Please…”
I was actually grateful for the distraction of Federico’s hard cock rubbing against my exposed, wounded backside through the fabric of his trousers. Spectacles of this kind always excited him, which could be either a good thing or a bad thing for me. To say I’m not cautious by nature is to say the obvious, but I had learned to step lightly around my Mentor when his blood was up.
Alexander gave Federico a look and walked over to Cora. His fingers ever so gently swept the hair out of her face. I couldn’t see her eyes, but I imagined them glazed over and brimming.
The Consigliere whispered in Cora’s ear as before. The tattooed man appeared again and took hold of Cora’s hair, tying it back with a rubber band. Then he lifted her long, beautiful tresses up and fastened them to the rope with another rubber band. Now her head could no longer fall forward. We could all watch her beautiful face as she struggled to endure. Alexander held her chin up with two fingers, wiped the rivulets from her cheeks with his other hand and spoke softly to her. Then he let her chin go and took a step back without breaking eye contact. He must have cautioned her about her lips. She parted them slightly while she steadied her body as best she could by pressing her toes firmly to the floor. She nodded slowly to Alexander to signal that she was as ready as she would ever be.
The Consigliere gestured to the tattooed man to continue. I would really like to know all he had said to Cora in that moment. I can guess; probably something about how this was the test that she had to pass to have the life she wanted and that she would survive as all of us have. But that is only my imagination of it. The Consigliere had a way of speaking with women that was different from other men. He appealed to something within a woman that no one else could see.
After the five-dozen strokes Cora’s frantic sobbing had subsided. She seemed more in control now even as she hung limp, covered in sweat and shaking lightly, from her restraints. Two servants approached her to loosen the rope and unhook her cuffs.
Then I saw Charles standing behind Cora. Two O’s in front of him massaged and sucked his penis to get it hard.
He motioned for the servants to lay Cora face down on the bench. She gripped its wooden legs so hard her knuckles whitened, her head hanging down over the front end. Her feet came to rest behind the back legs, vulnerable soles up.
Charles moved in closer. One of the O’s slipped a condom over his penis. He grabbed Cora’s bright-red ass cheeks, pressed his cock against her vulva and plunged deep into her hole.
Cora reared up and screamed once again. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back down. Whatever there was in her that had not been broken by the whip would now be broken by the instrument men always have with them.
Charles started slowly and rhythmically but soon began to fuck her faster and harder. I took a look at her back. Thin red lines were visible all over it, running diagonally in a crisscross pattern from her shoulders down to the backs of her legs. The marks on her flanks seemed darker. Some of the strokes had hit her breasts, stomach and lower lips quite brutally, leaving marks there as well.
When Charles finished with a final thrust, the servants formed a line, the tattooed man in front. All of them fucked her from behind vaginally, pulling out of her cunt right before they would have ejaculated. They removed their condoms, went around to the front the table and stuck their cocks in Cora’s mouth, where they came immediately. It was a ritual dance they all knew well.
More and more men approached the new O. I watched, fascinated, as the growing crowd of spectators moved in. I felt a cool hand on my shoulder. Lucia stood next to me naked now except for her shoes.
“Come, beautiful. Your Federico is waiting for us.”
Once more, Alexander’s words came back to me:
“Devotion is not a question of submission. Love, lust, and sometimes curiosity will elicit devotion. But the woman who is devotes herself must also be very strong for her surrender to have meaning.”
About The Authors:
Ernest Greene is the author of the well-renowned novel for Daedalus Publishing, Master of O, reinventing the BDSM classic Story of O set in modern Los Angeles and told from the master’s point of view. His previous work includes co-authoring Coming Attractions, the Making of an X-Rated Video with Dr. Robert Stoller (Yale University Press, 1989) and shared credit with his spouse, Nina Hartley on Nina Hartley’s Guide to Total Sex (2006), from Avery Press, a division of USA Penguin Group.
Greene is a longtime member of the Los Angeles BDSM community, joining Threshold when it was still an affiliate of The Society of Janus. He served six terms as Threshold coordinator between 1989 and 1995. He continued to do orientations for new members thereafter and participated in numerous outreaches to academic groups.
Since 1985, Greene has concentrated his efforts mainly in adult entertainment and adult sex education, serving as Executive Editor of the best-selling fetish magazine Hustler’s Taboo since 1999 and most recently as Chief Associate Editor for Hustler’s All-Sex issues.
Ernest Greene, has participated in the production of adult video for three decades as a performer, writer, director and producer. His body of work comprises over five hundred titles, including AVN award winners Strictly for Pleasure, Mask of Innocence, Tristan Taormino’s Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women and Jenna Loves Pain. With his wife, Nina Hartley, he has served as producer and director of the Nina Hartley’s Guide series of adult sex education programs for video market leader Adam&Eve Pictures. The series has sold over three quarters of a million videos to date and now comprises forty titles. His own erotic features for Adam&Eve, O – The Power of Submission, Surrender of O and The Truth About O have thus far seen sales nearing 100,000 units, making them among the biggest selling X-rated feature titles in recent years.
Greene is particularly well known for his groundbreaking approach to the presentation of unconventional sexuality related to consensual domination and submission. He has been active in the BDSM community for nearly thirty years, conducting workshops and seminars and serving as an officer of community groups. He is a retired six-term coordinator of Threshold, Southern California’s oldest active pansexual BDSM organization. His activism also extends to the world of adult video production, where he held the position of chairman of the board of directors of The Adult Industry Medical Healthcare Foundation (AIM) for seven years and to his commentaries on the adult industry Blog for Pro-Porn Activism.
Nina Hartley is a pioneering feminist sex worker, using her body in the service of promoting a sexually sane and literate society. She is thrilled to see a new generation of sex-positive performer/activists take its space and spread the good news about sex. Active as a performer since 1982, her rock-solid commitment to the importance of sexual autonomy has fueled Ms. Hartley’s career in adult entertainment. As a performer, director, writer, educator, public speaker, and feminist thinker for all, no matter their orientation, she’s traveled the world to deliver her message. She believes that sexual freedom is a fundamental human right and welcomes the new social media opportunities for spreading her message of knowledge and empowerment to the widest number of people. She’s the author of, “Nina Hartley’s Guide to Total Sex,” from Avery Press. Putting to use her B.S. degree in nursing, she and her husband, Ernest Greene, have produced the million-selling sex-ed video series collectively known as “The Nina Hartley Guides,” from Adam & Eve, currently in its 38th episode. Still active in front of the camera, she and her husband live in Los Angeles.
Ernest’s Website: masterofo.com