How To Give A Bare Handed Spanking

One of the biggest barriers for new femdoms (and women who are giving this a try) is that the topping side of dominating people can seem hellaciously intimidating. What if you get it wrong, will the bottom be seriously hurt? Will he laugh at you and take away his submission? I blame existing dominants, who often base their authority on how well they hit and tie. In some cases, of course, kink skill takes time and practice. Bullwhips and needle play require more prep and know how, as well as specialized equipment. But spanking is something anyone can do and carry very little risk, particularly a bare handed spanking with an open palm.


Delecious bare handed spanking pic from juliensubWhy spanking and how does it work?

A human butt is one of the more resilient, padded parts of the body. Cushioned and bouncy, it offers a wide surface area for striking while keeping all the important biological bits tucked deep out of the way. As well as a safe target, many people associate spanking with being in a demeaned, vulnerable of juvenile position. Although people in the 18 to 35 generation may never have personally experienced a beating in the hands of a parent, the idea of being bent over and smacked is deeply embedded in popular culture, as a minor form of violence expressing the authority of the spanker. Besides, we sexualize butts, and spanking is touching butts.

For kink purposes, there’s two kinds of spankings, a fun spanking that works with the “victim’s” natural tolerances and a mean spanking that seeks to exceed them (in a safe fashion of course!). In this case, don’t confuse tolerances for limits. Limits are how the bottom protects you from being arrested, while tolerance is how the spanking effects them in relation to how they experience pain. So how do you make sure everything’s hunky dory?

Establishing informed consent and tolerances.

If you’re a newbie dom, maybe your bottom has also never had spanking before. Or, maybe if he’s new to you, you’re not sure he understands what you are capable of dishing out. I’ve already established that I’m a big fan of consent. Don’t hit people unless they say it’s okay, and understand the ramifications of what they agreed to. That established, what if the person doesn’t know what their finite limits are yet? Nobody wants to initiate a grandiose walloping and have the bottom start screaming “Pumpkin! Pumpkin! I don’t consent!”. Have a conversation about limits and kick any new partner who tells you they have none out of bed.

But what if they’re gung-ho about it, but this is virgin territory? This is the main stumbling block for many kinksters. Most people come into this with a bunch of sexy ideas, some of which are going to turn out to be perverted brilliance, but many of which will be improbable, impractical or nowhere as hot as they seemed in real life. On that line, launching a full scale assault on their ass may sour a spanking victim- if this is primarily your idea you want to be able to ease the bottom into it.

I’m a big fan of using the pain scale numbers system, because you can’t get simpler than that. During your first spanking session, task the receiver to rate your hits on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being “did you touch me?” and 10 being “sweet mother fucking christ auugh I’m dying.” For a bare handed spanking, many people can’t even get past 7. Regardless, start with your lightest possible hit and work to establish your mid-range. You will probably discover one other fun fact: people’s pain tolerances shoot way up when they are aroused. Thus his tolerance is going to be a bit wibbly. With warm up, you may exhaust yourself long before he’s ready to call it quits.

Following so far? Let’s keep going…

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Montreal’s Missing Stair: Dunter

Dunter is montreal's missing stairThe Montreal BDSM community is live in a world where everyone talks, but there are strict norms: don’t “make drama” and don’t out people. It’s held up by our heavy reliance on Fetlife as a social tool, which refuses to allow you to say anything negative about anyone, whether calling them out for alleged littering or a rape conviction. But this is my blog, so I can express that I think Dunter is a bad person who should be banned from the BDSM scene.

Dunter assaulted me and violated my consent, and I have witnessed him violate the consent of someone else

 

Me:

While demonstrating pressure points, went from demonstrating on my fingers to violently twisting my nipple. I guess he was fed up none of his pressure points were working on me.
Fondled my fresh surgical stitches, after I explicitly told him not to touch me at all. Claimed he didn’t hear me say no when I freaked out.
Decided to physically pick me up, until I thumped him in the head. Blames that I was being rambunctious and playful. Implied consent, right?

Another Person:

During the aforementioned pressure point incident, randomly grabbed someone in the audience and jabs them.

For purposes of libel, that’s all I can explicitly tell you DID happen. You’re welcome to say exaggerating, lying or whatever.  But I talk about it because for some reason everyone knows he’s bad news, but he continues to be a part of the scene outside my carefully curated bubble. And I’m going to talk about what other people say too. Good and bad.

The “Gossip”.

Oh, we snicker when he organizes and anti-rape class and taglines it “coming from someone who knows“. And you can say his name casually and everyone has an anecdote about the time he dropped someone on their head, or the way he acted soooo disappointed when the new girl in the community turned out to have six years prior experience. Where ever he goes, he sets himself up as a guru and gets into a massive argument with whomever is organizing things. The posturing battles with other (male) people in authority are the subject of giggling as fetlife posts with euphemistic but insulting nicknames are used to call each other out.

And he continues to act, and play with and endless stream of young women (always young, always bought with his alleged rope skill). And to say anything beyond vituperative behind the fan, sleeve biting sarcasm is DRAMA. Too much, vindictive of whomever, not everyone’s problem. You can tell he’s a creeper by looking at him, right? Don’t be revenge seeking! Don’t drag other people into this! I don’t take sides, whoa…

In short, he’s a classic missing stair.

Popularized by Pervocracy, a missing stair is person who’s like the flaw in a building that all the regulars know to avoid. Like a balcony railing you can’t rely on, a floorboard that sticks up, or the dark basement step that you’re supposed to skip to avoid tumbling headlong, anyone who is a part of the group knows it’s there ans considers awareness of the hazard the cost of living there.

In my case. I got an extra dose of Dunter because I was good friends with someone he dated for a prolonged period. And that’s one of those things I’m not proud of- I was younger and meeker, and although I still consider myself good friends with her, older me would not have the patience that younger me did of trying to ignore the cretin she dragged around everywhere with her. It’s also made me cautious about speaking up. What if people thought this was an ill thought out revenge scheme motivated by a jealous ex? Well, she’s way more chill about everything and actually unaware that I’m writing this, so if you feel inclined to call conspiracy you can’t include her.

I’m writing because nobody else is.

But in the scene at large, there’s also a degree of sexism in the lack of response to completely ostracize him. Because he largely targets women, it’s easy to find guys who’ll tell you, tsk, tsk he means well. He’s so earnest, volunteering for absolutely fucking everything (I mean he did drop someone on their head on some stairs, allegedly, but he means well right?) and how those black t-shirted would be bouncers are TOTALLY keeping an eye on him as he suspends a young woman in the centre stage of their event.

I usually abhor blaming an entire gender, but there’s this powerlessness among the various guys I’ve talked to who hold actual power in the community. As if they don’t control their own venues. Mostly doms or dom-presenting switches and fetishists, respected and even admired. Sometimes they’re even trusted, although trust is hard currency to come by in the kink scene. When the public fights happen they’re over prestige, someone claiming military service they didn’t do or whose rope is the longest. Other than that, most people of both genders shake their head with that little smirk “Oh Dunter, I’ve heard a lot about him.”

Jesusfuckingchristareyoufuckingshittingme. This does not take some sort of advanced degree to figure out. Most of the people of any degree of authority and prestige know he’s bad news. He runs his “Centre” partially as a reaction from being ejected from Montreal’s other kink teaching space, the ALCC. Or allegedly he did. Because nobody would be as gauche as to tell anyone anything specific.

I promise you that I’ve never found a person who requires caveats about their personality or has multiple stories attached to them is good to be around.

With Dunter, I can’t really blame his other victims from not doing more than talking among ourselves. God knows, getting any kind of traction means putting yourself through the wringer, and if you take on someone you better believe you’ll get one metric ton of bullshit as a reward. But as a community organizer, even a volunteer who reserves a venue once a month, I feel like actually have to say something.

So I am. Because every time us petty kings and queens let him in and “watch” him or don’t use our social capital to express displeasure we are tacitly endorsing him. The guy thrives and succeeds because he presents himself as a leader, and expert and a teacher. And I can say, based on personal experience and the information of people that I consider trustworthy, I do not endorse Dunter for anything and he should not be around people.

Oh, and I leave you with this if you need to do a follow up:

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3

Femdom Life: Orgasm Denial for Him

Psychological shackles are the bestI like to make him beg.

Wildcard is into con-non-con, but as much as he has fabulous instincts as a top/dom (he’s really fucking AMAZING to watch), he’s comparatively handicapped in submissive explorations. He’s not someone who could attribute his sub fantasies to being a naturally passive, meek person. As a sub, his erotic charge comes from resisting, and, as a full sized adult male, this makes orgasm denial the perfect lever to bring him to his knees.

As a straight femdom, your partners will usually be bigger, stronger and heavier than you. A good tease and iron clad willpower is your friend for subs who need a little push back. I adore humiliating him with my power. With so much cultural baggage around masculine virility, it’s like a metaphorical ring through a bull’s nose. No matter the muscle, some of the best feelings out there are making a man obey with the lightest of tugs.

Before meeting me, his fantasies focused on three things: forced orgasms, spankings and forced nudity.

All these are pretty hot, but I brought something more to the table he’s never done before, good old fashioned restrictions on when he could come, laced with lots and lots of sneaky sabotage stimulation.

It might be a femdom porn standard, but also a huge kink of mine. I love it, and I love to tease men until they go insane. I love the way it turns my body into a tool of control. And hooray, guess what? Because I kept talking about it, he started getting into orgasm denial just as much as me! Blame my sexy talk and my apparently phenomenal, edging focused hand jobs. since I brought the subject up, he’s been devouring copious amount of denial based erotica even without my encouragement. Score! Guess that means it was time to start locking him up to make that desperate feeling last! Right…?

Nope. Orgasm denial is a slow burn build up.

First of all, he’s a kink-is-part-of-my-life and not a kink-is-my-life person. Precisely because orgasm denial makes him feel submissive, marathon, months long orgasm denial sessions aren’t his thing. Heck, he finds the idea of more than a week without coming too intimidating (for now). That rules out play built around “never letting you come ever, mohahaha!” But beyond that, as much as he likes non-con, feeling forced even by the presence of sexual potential is also potentially triggering. Wildcard’s dealt with some shit in the past and has bristly, bite-y boundaries. So on the one hand he just wants me to take control, on the other hand everything has to be carefully negotiated to make him feel safe. People are complicated.

Orgasm denial, once you throw in the edging and teasing, is something you’ve got to work your way up to. When I first started with him, what was supposed to be a weekend long denial session lasted less than 24 hours. There may have been an oopsie after an extremely erotic suggestion from me. To combat my devilish ways, he’s had to train his dick to know just about when he’s going to come… and he’s still had more than his fair share of ruined orgasms by accident.

So even in 2015, this was a work in progress. Then we moved house, and Christmas happened, and our sex life cum hobby (heehee) of being kinky libertines took a holiday around stress, packing and  some pretty serious relationship growth. And we honestly communicated about stuff. You know, needs and boundaries. Life taught us to have some shitty trust issues that take a lot of deprogramming. You guys endured a blogging hiatus and I’m still tidying up after it.

Six months after the move, I’m happy to say that teasing and depriving him has stayed a mainstay in our sex life. Oh, and edging. I’ve edged him for an hour at a time, making him go just to the point of coming over and over and over again until he was thrashing and begging. And the orgasms he gets from them are some of the intensest he’s ever had.

We do it, over and over again, slippery oil on my palms, or his cock pushing over my tongue. Making him beg. It might not be the rule for daily life, but in the bedroom I make Wildcard work for every orgasm. Last night, after a sound spanking, he even showed how good he’s getting at holding it when I took him to the edge and he managed to hold off for a good thirty seconds of me forcing him. And sneaky truth- he might not have taken on orgasm denial as a full time calling, but when we’re together, even on a vanilla night, he hasn’t come a single time without asking for permission.

1

The Unbound Box Rocked My Socks

The Unbound Box - Photos By WildcardEvery blogger likes loot. In disclosure before I talk about the Unbound Box, the origin of this was a freebie with no expectations other than reviewing it, but I can confidently say I loved what I got. I liked the presentation, I liked the contents and I found the company itself super pleasant to work with.

Unbound is a sex toy/adult product retailer going for a combination classy/tongue in cheek aesthetic. They’re as likely to remind you you deserve equal pay as all the orgasms you want. Unlike many loot crates, you have some advance warning what you’re going to get, but in my case I went into this completely blind.

I also did not expect to be happy with the results, just vaguely awkward. I get a lot of promotional spam demanding the moon and offering dubious rewards, often “become an affiliate and I swear you will profit!” style invites for products I would never buy or suggest others buy. And although I like the theory of loot crates, in practice I’ve never got a surprise bag where the contents seemed worth the hype, whether makeup samplers like Birch Box (which SHOULD be a box of floggers and canes, but isn’t) or the eponymous “Loot Crate” full of geeky tchotchkes. There’s always a few ok items I wouldn’t have bought anyway and a lot of clutter that feels wasteful. So was the Unbound Box one of those junk bags? I’m happy to say it is not.

Unbound sent me the May 2016 sampler, DELTA ∇, a late birthday gift for yours truly.

Honestly, when I got the package notification. I forgot it might be coming. I had no clues of what was inside, just a plain white box, with something loose but heavy gently sliding when I shook it. However, slicing open the cardboard was a shiny black box tied with a satin ribbon. Squee!

I love presents. I love nice presents even more.

Although they don’t have a set guide on how much you get every time, there were four items in this box. The Intro 2, a vibe with a two finger design; a high end clitoral sensitizer (aka warming lube) by Exsens; and some rhinestone pasties and a body chain, all neatly packed up, including a little cloth storage bag for the vibrator with a sassy quote from Mae West.

As far as the wins, I fell in love with the vibe they gave me (the Intro 2) and they actually hit onto sexy adornment I might actually wear- probably to the sexy Indoor Beach Party I’ve planned next Saturday. And to be fair I’m giving the sensitizer a boot on principle- I’m not a big fan of warming lubes, but I have plenty of friends who are and was able to pass it on. (Note to you Peppermint Kitten, my readers are enthusiastically waiting to see how you liked it!)

Yes, I am shamelessly making my friend rub strange creams on her genitals. But if she doesn’t like it she has a wonderful submissive husband to use it on. #evilcackle

But the Intro 2… omgomgomg.

Not so much a rabbit vibe, but as one particularly reviewer put it, shaped like a Totoro, Unbound aimed to have you use this on your clit and nipples as a part of the Delta’s theme. Out of the box it’s got all the hallmarks of the modern lady friendly toys- pleasant colour schemes, abstract rather than shall we say organic shapes, silicone skin. In other words, a vibe that I would sadly admire on the shelf and move on.

With this toy, the idea is that you can blitz concentrated spots with tingles, lightly pinching and pressing for surround sensation. But what isn’t advertised is that this is a perfect masturbator for a clitoral sides/labia person, which I am, and someone who likes a lot of pressure.

My personal self pleasure technique is what sinks most vibes. In a diverse land of jackhammer hitachis, flicking bunny ears and buzzing bullets, none of this accommodates that my usual self frigging is a sort of rapid V motion with my fingers that puts more arm into it than rowing a boat. Add a motor and my tiny clit either goes numb from over stimulation or gets missed entirely. Vibes always were the thing the cool girls got to play with, and strictly not for me. That is until a nice little surprise inspired me to give it another shot. I mean, it’s only polite to try a gift, right?

Yeah, if you’re on team highly sensitive clit, this little wonder will fit just right into the sides and work with your natural  shape, teasing the lips and hood to let the sensations build up, while the base will let you keep pressing. No more going numb from too many tingles or not enough sensation- I’ve met my vibrator match finally and that means this loot crate did it’s work, getting you to reach out and try things, as curated by someone who understands their market. Consider the Unbound Box a win.

Inside the box, with the INTRO 2 in the front

Unbound Box Value, Based on my Searching:

  • Intro 2 by JimmyJane – About $60
  • Fresh Ginger Litchi by Exsens – About $30
  • Mimi Rhinestone Pasties by bjoux indiscrets – About $10
  • Body Chain by Unbound – $10-ish, but it’s a unique item

Cumulative Price: $110 US
Actual Price: $65 US
Functional Value, based on what I actually wanted: $80 US
A Vibrator that Actually Gets Me Off? Priceless.

 

2

Fuck Homophobia; Fuck Islamophobia

Love is love is love is love is loveThis is more like a one shot service announcement, but as a sexual libertine I wanted to put this out there, based on the Orlando tragedy:

Fuck homophobia. Fuck blaming Muslims.

As a non-American I don’t feel qualified to give more than an opinion on the subject of gun control (why do you need those? wat? whyyyy?) but as a sexual libertine who screws and plays with people anywhere on the wonderfully unrestrainable gender spectrum, and whose life is so far on the side of sexual liberal that I don’t even know what normal looks like anymore…

We don’t deserve to die, and what kills us is not our choices, it is the choice of others to hate us. And that hate is not uniquely confined to any variant of monotheism, that is a 100% optional. Let every politician who hemmed and hawed about transgender bathrooms or gay marriage know that YOU did this. Let every pastor who decided that the pulpit was their hate catapult be ashamed. Let every TERF who sneered about what a “real” woman was hang your head in fucking SHAME. Hell, even you in the back who was hoping to be the bigger man and saying that it was okay for people to be perverts as long as they hid their icky secret and never expected right, fuck you in particular. Fuck your hate the sin, not the sinner. I am my “sin” and if love is a sin, than fuck you, we love.

The killer was your textbook scene creep (you know the type, nasty messages, nasty disposition, missing stair extraordinaire), lashing out from the closet doorway. Sure he dressed himself in the raiment of whatever big name terrorists he could wind about himself, but if you are buying into this as a remotely Muslim thing… well I don’t know if the word “racist” applies to hating on such a pan-ethnic faith, but you are certainly an ignorant bigot. More than that, you’re explicitly on his side, where he loudly tried to distract everyone from the fact that this was a hate crime with a huge component of self hate. This was the UpStairs Lounge arson attack again, made possible with assault weapons. This was a horrible, abusive person abusing what he (secretly) loved as surely as he abused his wife. Fuck you for trying to make this a talking point so you could bully and harass Muslims in the name of people that, let’s be honest, a decade ago you probably barely acknowledged as human.

I love living in 2016, where Axe body spray ads feature men in heels and I can marry any one adult that will have me. But holy fuck, guys, can we not make a hate sandwich and pretend that being mean to gay people isn’t a homegrown bit of bullshit bso we can be horrid to brown people?

We clear? This blog is pro QUILTBAG and pro any damn faith that gives you peace and cultural warm and fuzzies, whether it’s all of them or none. This is just another drop in a rainstorm of people shouting about gay rights and not being a bigot. But if i have a soap box, I will at least express solidarity to the some 10K sessions you guys make here monthly.

3

Kink.com Excludes Femdom From Mainstream BDSM

shitIdon'tneed This shit is what I’m talking about here, when I talk about the sexism that femdoms deal with, when it comes to being taken seriously as a part of BDSM.

This is the navigation menu for kink.com, which helps you find their sub-sites, sorted by 5 options. Gay gets its own category that excludes F/f, which is sort of scattered all throughout their content offerings. And Femdom… It’s not filed under general BDSM either. Because of course it isn’t.

I understand this is going to come across like I’m looking for something to be offended about that could be a happinstance accident. There’s obviously no malicious conspiracy and I suspect a huge part is an effort to seed common search terms for SEO/page rank purposes while still creating a functional site map. But this is definitely a symptom of kink as a wholes problem with excluding femdom from the idea of normal.

I do want to say I’m glad kink.com exists. They were a big part of pushing the Overton window, champions of BDSM AND sex in the same shoot, normalizing and mainstreaming kink. They’re a scrappy self made franchise that started in a guy’s dorm room. And they’re a living example of building what you love being a key component to making good art- as well as one of the strongest influences on modern BDSM as a subculture, and have done a great deal to popularize the role of consent- with their before/after videos providing a framing that is joyful and mindful of the well being of the bottom.

But here’s where I go tumblr about things, and I’m going to use this as a leaping off place as a wider problem.. There is a logic internally why kink.com did their menu like this- the artistic direction of their femdom work is sorted under slightly different leadership. But the way it is expressed sucks, and is the problem of femdom exclusion from the rest of kink in a nutshell, something they are perpetuating as educators.

As a female dominant, one of the biggest challenges with my kink is being taken seriously and not being overshadowed by the male sub fantasy version of yourself. Kink.com makes some effort to put femdoms in charge of making stuff they put out there, but they are still the product being sold with its own special fetishes attached, like female dominance can’t exist without a strapon.  And unlike their gay stuff where the male sub is the main attraction and the treatment of the happy victim is very similar to a female sub, the dominant herself is getting the majority of the camera love and branding emphasis and the guy is depersonalized as much as he’s the victim. But even that’s not enough, for kink.com, femdom must be placed away from everything else.

This makes sense from a financial perspective, much like their (to me) excessive focus on anal.  Men buy porn, so porn aims at a male lowest common denominator, so men buy porn. It’s a generally accepted truism that straight men don’t wanna look at guys except peripherally and if they do it’s going to fit into a very specific idea of what femdom is that is nothing like male dom. I don’t like it, but that’s a separate rant.

Where this sorting is irksome, and the point I’m making here, is where the website has also stepped into the role of kink educators- a worthy goal, but on that carries their porn based bias into what they are teaching. Note that Kink University is neatly sorted in amongst all the “BDSM” branded porn, where for a reasonable fee you can watch bad things happen to enthusiastically consenting women. And then when the victim is NOT a woman (or the dom is interesting subject at all really)- whoops it’s not normal, off to the Gay or Femdom box! We don’t want some wanking man to have his erection spoiled.

Think, for a moment, how this comes across if you’re into femdom and you’re trying to access this as an educational resource. Much of the advice, from safewords to bondage and hitting, is unsexed unless you are torturing or tying a sex specific body part. The psychology of it is fairly universal and they have female dominants teaching in their workshop. But there’s still this idea that both male homosexuality and female dominance must be sequestered.

And you deal with this in the BDSM community too, online and off.

It comes up in the endless whining about how the ratios of femdoms to male subs are fucked because, as these complaints boil down to, the person whining that they can’t find a person will tell you that being a femdom isn’t normal. You find it in the every day assumptions that when you mean a BDSM couple you mean M/f, whether on reddit or fetlife or out doing your thing. Even at my munches, people tell me how they don’t like femdom, because all they see is this ghetto-ized Femdom-as-a-Fetish for men or come to me and tell me they don’t think I am a femdom because I don’t fit this narrow version of what they think it looks like.

And I’m not asking for something unreasonable. Major kink toy retailer, “The Stockroom” went through this with their dual catalogs- one that featured a mixture of mostly female models and the other one that was focused on displaying their products on male bodies. And you know what? Someone pointed out to them that sorting Gay/Straight based on model was weird and they knocked it off. And it didn’t hurt anything to change up the lables.

So its not impossible to do the same thing for femdom. It doesn’t have to be a special extra thing that’s ancillary to the regular kink, like some sort of separate flavour. We can acknowledge that male and female dominants have more similarities. When i comes to porn aimed at men I can see why you would pander, but when it comes to education, we should expect better.

Get your shit together kink.com. As a kink educator, in this aspect, you suck at making femdom accessible as something other than a male fantasy and this is leaving  femdom identifying or exploring women in the cold.

2

Writing Commission: Bound By Contract

Reader “Ethan” has not only picked up the tab for web hosting for you guys for the next six months, he’s also been nice enough to share the story he commissioned. Darker than one of my Friday Femdom Fiction stories, this is a tale of a man’s anticipation as he signs and irreversible deal. Ethan wanted a story about being bound by contract and honestly this one just flew onto the page as soon as i got the prompt, I was so excited by the idea.

—-

Bound by contract that can't be brokenThe office was in the 23rd floor of one of the towers downtown, a tasteful but sombre building that took its design and decor from the art deco period. Ethan Doulas signed in with the security guard at the bottom floor fifteen minutes early, and reached suite 2304 with exactly eight minutes to spare.

He wore a suit, still eager to make a good impression. After all he had known Amelia Gilder for only two weeks and obtaining her signature was just as much important as providing his own. He was excited and fidgety, fussing with his jacket to make it hang right and checking his hair in the black mirrored surface of the decorative columns. He looked about as good as he could make himself.

The receptionist was an ice blonde with a wave of hair over one side of her face in perfect crimped waves, and a dress whose tailoring was so sharp he could shave with it. Despite this, she had a pleasant demeanor, offering him water, tea or coffee. He declined all three than changed his mind, asking for the water. The furniture was heavy and solid, all antiques from the mid-century, a tangible piece of evidence that this was a successful firm. Crosby, Cere and Li was no mass acquisition firm, but a boutique contract management company, specializing in the best sorts of property. This was very reassuring.

Five minutes after the appointed time, Ms. Gilder and her lawyer were standing waiting for him to come join them in a more private room. She made the introductions, and hands were shook. He discovered the lawyer, Diana Prava, was also a notary public.

While the lawyer wore a pants suit, and an aura of reserved professionalism, Ms. Gilder was relaxed in a knee length silk-satin dress that looked as soft as her skin and as glossy as her dark chocolate hair. Although shorter than Ethan, she gave the impression of height, enhanced by stiletto pumps.

“You have, of course reviewed the entirety of the contract, so this will be mostly a formality,” the lawyer was talking, but he was looking at Ms. Gilder. “Because you have chosen to waive your own right to legal representation in this negotiation, I will go over the terms to certify you understand them. Please initial each line in the provided space after I have gone over the terms contained therein, to signify you understand.”

The contract was six sheets of paper held together with a single staple. What it contained, of course, was the legal agreement that transitioned him entirely into the care of another person or business entity. In this case, he would become indentured to her indefinitely, discharging all debts and obligations in the process.

It was a risky maneuver- predatory debt buyers were endemic, scooping up low skilled labour neglected by the modern economy and shipping it off to work in farms and factories, but for those who were talented or even good looking and charming, it could open doors that were otherwise closed, including into the hearts and beds of some of the most powerful people in the world.

“You understand, of course, that Ms. Gilder will be entirely responsible for your care and upkeep, but after signing the standards you will be kept will be entirely her decision, for food, clothing and lodging.” She paused to look him in the eyes, making sure he understood. “I am legally obligated to tell you that a contract is irrevocable when signed without duress.”

Ethan swallowed, but reassured himself as he took the pen and made his first mark on the paper. People signed permanent things all the time. Besides, Ms. Gilder, as well as being stunningly good looking, was very wealthy and could afford to keep her property in a great deal of comfort. It would almost certainly be a better life than sharing a four bedroom apartment with six people.

“She may put you to any task she feels fits your skills, provide you with any additional training she feels your require and make medical decisions on your behalf…” Here, the lawyer hesitated. “According to Law 407, I am required to remind you that this included cosmetic procedures.”

Again, he put down the first letters of his first, middle and family name. Every time they went over a sheet, the lawyer also acted in his role as a notary public signing off on each page and in a separate dated book.

“Ms. Gilder will be responsible for the payment of any financial obligations you may have outstanding. As we have reviewed your finances, a lump sum payment of seventy thousand dollars is currently held in escrow for your creditors, with a further thirty thousand to be paid to a beneficiary of your choice. I am to understand this is your parents?”

People sold themselves for all sorts of reasons. Ethan was lucky- his debts were minimal and the money for his parents would give them some more padding for retirement. At their age, selling themselves like he was doing was not a good option- buyers expected to get their money’s worth and seniors were more likely to end up doing fourteen hour days in some massive complex and living in dormitories until they died, if they couldn’t support themselves.

Ethan nodded and was further gratified by a smile from Ms. Gilder. She seemed to approve.

Before she had considered signing on, she had made him go through a detailed interview. Some of the questions were very personal and embarrassing, not the sort of thing a free man was used to being asked. But at the time, and now, he reminded himself the more seriously she took getting to know him, the better the likely outcome.

There had also been a medical examination, through a doctor in her employ, and that was incredibly invasive in its own right. But he knew he was healthy. And if she cared enough to check for that, it meant she wanted him to stay that way.

“Alright, Mr. Doulas, now it is imperative that you understand this next part. Detailed on the following pages is your expectations for conduct.” The lawyer pointed for emphasis, “Once signed, you are completely and utterly bound by Ms. Gilder’s will. You must obey to her satisfaction and she may use any means to ensure your correction and compliance. You are now waiving the rights to personal liberty and freedom of movement. If you attempt to escape, punishments can and will be levied against you.”

This was the scary part, but Ethan also found it bizarrely exciting. Here he was, with the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, stripping him of all rights, a kind of nakedness he’d never experienced before.

“Really, securing this firm to manage contract enforcement is more expensive than your indenture price.” Ms. Gilder interjected. “All my property is insured against theft, loss and non-compliance. This includes lifetime corrective confinement and managing resale.”

Resale. Every indenture’s worst nightmare. For the people who belonged to companies, an almost certain eventual outcomes, for those who belonged to private individuals, still a chilling outcome. When he signed, that was the last time he got to decide who he got to obey. If Ms. Gilder wanted, she could trade him to someone else for a penny.

With a lot more caution, he put down his final set of initials.

“Okay, that’s the terms out of the way. One last step. Mr. Ethan Doulas, are you ready to sign?”

He nodded. With a ceremonial flourish, the lawyer provided him with Ms. Gilder a second pen, a fancy, heavy kind like the sort parents used to give their kids as graduation gifts, so she could sign her part of the transfer, and then passed it to him. This final time he was legally able to sign anything binding on his own behalf would probably be marked by giving him the pen- the only property an indentured person usually got to keep.

With careful finality, Ethan made his last signature, first name, last name, and the date. The two others in the room smiled.

“Ah, there we go. I believe this calls for celebration. Champagne?”

“Oh… yes please.”

“No, not you, Ethan.” Ms, Gilder smirked as the door to the room opened. Two men in coveralls, carrying restraints entered.  The lawyer, for her part, opened a cabinet to reveal a small fridge and produced two glasses.

Ms. Gilder watched as her new property struggled. They always did, when the stripping started, taking off those cheap suits they always tried to wear to impress her. In her mind she considered what names she might call him, the only hint of her arousal at his fate was the delicate re-crossing of her ankles.

After they peeled off his clothes and put them aside to main to her property’s parents, the lawyer opened anther drawer in her desk, taking out the slim black object. An electric branding iron- Diana really was a gem. Then again after five years working together, she knew her methods.

She let her property see the tip of the branding iron heat red hot, before the bag was pulled over their heads and the cuffs went on. He acted so shocked, screaming blue murder as she etched an ownership mark into his chest, making one final signature he’d carry for the rest of his life. It was remarkable- for them a hundred thousand dollars seemed like a lot of money. For her, she’d spent as much on a dress she’d worn once.

Ethan, or whatever she changed his name to, would be enjoyed for longer, at her leisure. After all, he was property now. Whether he ended up digging ditches or on his back in a harem, for her it was all about the control. And hers was now unbreakable. After all, a contract was a contract.

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Like what you read? Want to support the site and keep getting more of my stories? Don’t forget you can get your own story (Like “Bound By Contract” or based on your own fantasy) here.

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Unbound by Cara McKenna: Femdom Romance That Gets It

femdom romanceWanna know how you can take the tropes and rules of the genre of romance and make a well realized self discovery setting with flawed but pleasant characters, and write a femdom story that is believable? Tired of erotica aimed at sub men and looking for something written to please a female dominant?

Unbound, by Cara McKenna is one of my more pleasant surprises for 2016. Holy shit, is it a tightly little packaged example of a good, realistic femdom romance. You know how you really want something to exist, and you bemoan that you can’t seem to find it, and BAM, there it is, better than anything you could write?

I have a moderate romance novel habit, usually enjoying the so-bad-its-good and the occasional just plain good read as I do my daily commute to and from work. I’m usually a big fan of historicals, but Amazon gave this to me as a suggested read. Judging a book by its cover, it’s another shirtless headless dude with a vaguely kink hinting title, and I admit I was all prepared to hate read my way through a hideous M/f train wreck someone dashed off to pay the internet bill. I admit I am a snarky, mean reader. Then by a few pages in the author managed to make me go from predatory reviewer to tentatively intrigued:

There’s nothing in summary to make you expect something different. Our heroine, Merry, is off to do a hiking adventure in the Scottish Highlands. She’s recently lost her mother and a significant amount of weight, and is dealing with the ramifications of that. This is the first sign that we’re in for an actual treat- while most books handle weight loss like a Cinderella transformation, Merry is dealing with all the realities- loose skin, changed relationship with people that’s a mixed blessing, and trying to bend her mind around a healthy relationship with herself and her body. Rather than glamour, she’s feeling alienated from her identity as the fun fat girl- her long term FWB dumped her and she’s having to re-examine both her friendships and her relationships with herself. Then her swimming in a Scottish lake gives her dysentery.

In a writing genre where beleaguered heroines get dainty fevers and miraculously limited concussions, I’ll give the story props for going there. The narrative about as coy as the POV would give about the symptoms, but weak and fainty, she ends up on the doorstep of a local hermit, a guy with a Dark Past (TM). Our hero, Rob, is an alcoholic who deals with his problem by getting away from society. Oh, and he’s a pervert.

The book teases you, taking a slow burn approach to all things sexual, and I was all prepped to pout a little when it was revealed that he was a Secret Dominant who was going to Teach Her To Love Her Body Through Submission, when once again the book surprised me. Rob is a sub with a thing for scratchy rope. And Merry, who hails from the west coast fashion industry is fully aware of kink things and doesn’t miss a beat. Repressed and British bloke meets a woman whose backstory is a baby born of a gay man and a single-by-choice hippy mother. She’s not only cool with it, it doesn’t occur to her that he’s odd.

You know how rare it is to find writing that really gets it? That recognizes the pure joy that’s in the dominant side for women? Or that clues in how desirable a sub guy can make you feel?  I won’t get too spoiler heavy, but these characters manage to connect on multiple levels, both zingy chemistry, and no sense that the demons they battle are pure dramatic padding. And my goodness, it’s good to have a sub guy be written as a delicious piece of fuck meat, and a dominant heroine not have to use the proxy of Mistress AngryWhip to express herself.

One does not read romance to break free of comfortable formats- like watching baseball you go into it with expectations of the rules everyone is operating under. Consider this a perfect play, from someone who knows her genre well and knows how to speak through it to make a very modern, approachable story that delivers the obligatory warm and fuzzies while managing depth of character.

 

 

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Femdom Life: Getting What I Want

Dear reader, tonight was Punish Tuesday, our pre-organized kinky sex night, and I just got my brains fucked out.

I also did what I have never done before. And it wasn’t something you would easily guess. No, seriously!

One hour of foreplay for me. It sounds so improbably vanilla, right? The sad truth is that life isn’t like those bdsm stories where the dominant always gets her needs met. The reality is that either sex has worked for me or it hasn’t. Now Strong could be a generous enough lover, but we had so little time as a couple that he can be considered out of the discussion.

But it is almost embarassing that I’m almost a month shy of my 30th birthday and I’ve gotten so used to compromising what I needed that for all I can beat a man purple or tease his cock for an hour, asking for turn around physical attention was a taboo fetish.

So I stripped him and he and I cuddled up on the couch. One set timer later and he went to work with my body all lips and tongue and touching

Somewhere along the way, long before I appeared on the scene, Wildcard learned to work a woman’s body, with the same studious and attentive perfectionism and passion he puts into his cooking. But instead of rendering the fat of the roast chicken he’s salted and dismembered, he’s finding little spots between my fingers to nibble and zones on the back of my thighs to stroke.

And then as everything in me opened, he liesurely fucked me while I took that delicious sensitivity into an orgasm so loud I suspect the neighbours heard it through his desperate muffling hand. Apartment life.

Afterwards, with his erection lingering and my cunt having none of the freight train he likes to pretend is his penis, I filled his ass and gave him a slippey hand job – it mus have been intense because he was practically flapping his unrestrained arms.

 

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Femdom Life: My Real Sex Life and Writing

Unfortunately the last six months have been about everything *but* my sexuality, and the blog has languished, although I still pay the hosting fees. And Jesus, being popular is NOT cheap. i might just put out a tip jar or something.

I’m not out of kink. I keep up with the monthly 18 to 35 meetups I host (Montreal folks, take note), and there have been exploits, but my sexuality has not been the point of my artistic focus. I moved house. I did a lot of therapy, once every two weeks, to deal with my serious abuse survivor issues. I took on a very social project and every scrap of my creative energy is feeding that. Meanwhile my job promoted me to something more challenging (and FUN) but it’s extra time and attention. and Wildcard’s sexuality decided to hide under the bed.

This is not to say that I didn’t get up to hijinks. A nice young man has claw marks. Another one has been toyed with at a couple of play parties. My aim with various hitty things has improved. But I haven’t really felt the passion there- and I’ve been dealing with personal relationship things that I wanted to not violate someone’s privacy over.

Nobody wants to be humiliated by having the world know them as Mr. Emotionally Flappy. But here’s the thing…

My partner was having trouble mustering enthusiastic consent, and still does. I don’t pressure people into shit they are not 100% on board with. I deserve better than that, even leaving aside the serious ethical impact, you don’t get to fuck Pearl just to please her so she won’t leave you. It takes its toll on the ego – loving someone intensely, but being dominant and thus discovering that vulnerability is the one thing they can’t bring into their sexuality. We are working on this because it is important to me. And it’s important to him- it sucks to want to get close to someone and feel you don’t measure up to what they want. Like the core you will be wanting.

It’s also psychologically relevant to me because I admit I have trust issues. When a significant amount of people have let you down in a fundamental way that damaged you (child abuse, etc…) it hardens you.

So add a medication that kicked the crap out of my libido and though I’ve made stabs at it, I suspect you can tell my heart wasn’t there the last little while.

But, on the other hand, I wanted to take the time to note I’ve gotten some lovely fan mail. When I started this blog it was about evangelically trying to get the word out, providing some sort of voice for people like me.

It’s gotten better. It really has. Since I started writing I built a thriving real life community, published a moderately successful book and got out of an abusive relationship (in not particular order). I loved again, lost and love now.

So I’m going to go back to writing here a bit more, but no promises that it won’t be embarrassingly navel gazey or contain more updates on personal growth and less hot sexxx.

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