How to Reduce Risk of Community Predation

[Content Note: talk about abuse and sexual assault with specifics and hypotheticals]

This is a part 2 to “Gaiman, Consent & Community Safety”, a reaction to the Vulture article “There Are No Safewords”

In the aftermath of exposing a community predator, as well as the inevitable disgust and horror, it’s always possible to see how the group contributed to the perpetrator becoming a sustained problem. Nonetheless, understanding how it happens is not the stopping point for the actions you can take to fight back. It will not be easy, but everyone has at least some agency to advise or nudge the groups they are part of to be safer. What I am sharing are lessons I learned from a history of very imperfect attempts to make things better.

I also take a shotgun approach to best practices, because dealing with community predation is equally important in prevention of allowing one to be entrenched, dealing with one who has dug into your group and managing the damage afterwards (and stopping them from coming back). I also share these without assuming who you are. You might be a kink newbie, a volunteer, a lurker or a micro-celebrity. Your community might just be surfing the web, or it might be an established non-profit with an official board of directors (e.g. TES). What you can do will vary, but all of this leans towards “better”.

If you organize something, you have a duty of care

This one suuuuucks. None of us are born knowing how to run shit, much less navigating the worst possible things humans are capable of doing to each other. However, if you set out to start a project, a meetup, a play party, or even a porn site you are at risk for developing a nice cozy home for a community predator. Even worse, this person has a high odds of seeing you as their new best friend and love bombing you to hell and back, and particularly good odds of being one of your rockstar volunteers.

How much you scale depends, of course, on the level of care you can be expected to give. A ten person movie night with your regular buddies is not the same thing as arranging to host monthly screeninging for kink cult classics to anyone who applies from a Fetlife event ad. But, within your locus of control, you can make a difference.

The two things you always have in your control, is an ability to ban people and the ability to maintain documentation. You do not need to be a hero who saves your entire city, but you absolutely are not powerless.

1) Establish you are allowed to exclude people, and try to maintain a degree of due process for that. When I ran the 18-35 munch in Montreal, maintaining the age bracket and making it clear if I believed you were a hazard I had the right to say no were both things people pushed back on, but they were invaluable to getting people to understand attending. Create a code of conduct and share that with group members. Often I found people who would violate the little piddly stuff were the sort of people who violated the big stuff. Remember, community predators like it when the rules have no teeth.

2) If you hear something, investigate. Almost invariably, when someone finally comes to tell you about the problem, there probably won’t be enough information to definitively say what is going on from just that. However, if you make a modicum of effort to discreetly ask around, most of the time you start finding other victims.

3) Document in a secure place, in plain and professional language. One reason people are paranoid about taking action in community safety is the terror of libel. “I talked to X on Y date, who said A, B, and C” protects you. It also means that if you are working with others you have a standardized process that makes it harder for people to attack you for things just being political drama.

4) If someone comes to you with a problem, explain where what you can do begins and ends. Ask them what they are comfortable with, but also make sure you make it clear documentation is non-negotiable. That also means picking your battles and watching for your energy levels. Conflict is not abuse, but it is labour.

If you want to do weird sex shit, it’s fun, but be mindful of the impact of pressure to participate, even unintentional. 

Who is fucking (metaphorically or literally), will unavoidably weight who we invest in and spend time with. Scrutinize your own behavior by how people who say no to you (or others) get treated, and where and how you ask.  Nothing is perfect, but a culture that respects people saying no cannot do so at the cost of ostracizing them, rendering them homeless or even just left out of the cool club. For example, if you are hosting play parties, have space that has another activity people can do instead. If one room is the orgy room, another one can be the place playing movies.

If you are considering hitting on someone, think about if you are giving them adequate space to retreat and if the context of this might give the impression if they say no they miss out on a valuable resource, be it a job or mentorship, or something more abstract like being perceived as belonging. Never corner people, metaphorically or literally. 

A real life example was a dance community where the conference/events had some people running secret sex parties in the attached hotels. This is absolutely normal human joy EXCEPT in this particular case where some of the participants were bringing in newbies to hang out without bothering to tell them that at some point in the party people were going to start having sex with each other. Newbies to the community at large felt if they didn’t join in they were bad sports offending their friends. The onus is on the people who want to have horny fun times to be risk aware and ensure everyone participating is doing so from a place of informed, enthusiastic consent.

If you are in a position of authority or prominence, do not fuck your fans, mentees, creative team or employees, side eye folks who do.  

This can feel incredibly lonely, particularly since the stuff that makes you popular or effective is an inherent aphrodisiac. If you are a big deal, you need to acknowledge that and pull laterally not vertically. Watch out for “but they are really mature for…” and other special pleading. Even if you happen to be correct, you are making a cover for your fellow fancypants folk to point at you and either say you are just as bad as them or that if it works for you it must always be ok.

Consider it a sign you need to diversify your network if you struggle to find anyone else on your level. If all the other people with equivalent power in your group are people you wouldn’t touch with a barge pole, consider that a damning indictment of whatever community you are part of and work to diversify your peer group. Kink social prestige might be relatively small and petty, but if you have it, acknowledge it. 

Watch out for over dependence on white knights, wise oldbies and whisper networks as your only safety mechanism. 

This one is a doozy, because everyone says they hate abuse. Even if you were running a community dedicated to the most vile shit imaginable, you probably have some lines you don’t want crossed. The problem happens when everyone’s acknowledgement of a desire for safety rests entirely with things that either don’t help or actively make the problem worse. It’s sort of like if everyone wants to stop forest fires, and their idea of prevention is a guy with a pile of old newspaper to throw on the blaze and a Smokey the Bear fibreglass animatronic.

In your group, does the buck stop with any of the following or tend to default to these?

  1. A champion (and maybe their crew) will step up! Often they promise they will do literal violence against these bad, bad people. This might be a mama bear or a band of bros.
  2. A wise person with a long tenure but no official standing says if you are abused to come to them (or their friends) and they will sort it all out for you. They do not say any specifics.
  3. Safety begins and ends with you finding and hearing about who the problem is through gossip and tips. 

I will reiterate that nothing is perfect, but each is terrible in their own way because they provide the idea of a solution, but ultimately operate on a mindset that simultaneously tends to treat abuse more like stranger danger/rare than a community wide problem and works against accountability and anything approaching due process.

The white knight approach is bad, in the obvious first place because most community predation is not a tidy situation of stumbling on say, an unconscious person being assaulted and you and your righteous band laying the boots in. More realistically it’s an imperfect or ambivalent-due-to-the-trauma victim who isn’t immediately seeking a posse to throw hands. It’s also bad because most people who posture, don’t back it up. And in the event you do, the power of a white knight concentrates authority with them, creating an environment where the chest beating promise to Uncle Phil toss a bad guy ultimately is a wonderful lure to community predators to dig in with Sir Safetypunch/the Amazon (or be them) and twist the implied threat of retribution to their own end.

Similarly, the unofficial tenured oldbie guardian probably only has a whisper network at their disposal, a massive blind spot around one of their buddies and being a listening ear becomes a place where problems go to disappear. This is also the zone where someone will promise to “have a word with” the predator and shake their head sadly at your behest. Tenured Oldbies are only really useful if someone uses them as part of an investigation of say, who to also speak to when you get a single complaint about someone and you start looking for the other metaphorical bodies.

From this, you might guess that I think whisper networks beat the alternatives only if the alternative is nothing. They are the safety equivalent of falling out of an aeroplane sans parachute into a forest canopy rather than onto jagged rocks. The problem with them is threefold, first of all their informal nature means the most vulnerable people can be left out, secondly, they almost immediately get weaponized with additional noise and counter accounts. A community predator gets very versed with seeding stories of their crazy exes and the human love of sensation (and our innate biases) encourage certain kinds of sensational to get passed along with any real warnings. Finally, a whisper network also serves to normalize the presence of a community predator. It tells you everyone accepts this risk cannot be changed. That’s great if your goal is to tell people to wear bear bells to deter the endangered grizzly in your national park from mutual destruction. It is not good if you are, say, a person deciding if they will pay for a ticket to a professional development conference, or the person organizing that conference.

Have a proper process in place for safety issues that is not just a hand wave and good feelings. If not at the highest level, at least at the level of individual events or projects.

Do not allow your group to hold one standard of conduct while working on the shared project and a different standard for “offsite”.

Another common form of missing stair is the person who seems scrupulous at official events, in a professional context, etc… but with a nightmare personal life. Or, whom has a pattern of victimizing people they meet at or because of the group, but never *officially* at a sanctioned event. The thrive in both a community’s distaste for trying to involve itself outside its immediate events and the fact that any bad behaviour on their part generally happens out of site of anyone with authority, official or otherwise. Nonetheless, community predators who use this two faced trick depend on the larger community to empower them to abuse and to hunt for victims.

For example, imagine a community that has an extremely on point monthly rave at a barn. The on-site volunteers are perfect, maintaining 0 tolerance on the dance floor, sober people lifeguarding the intoxicated, even a fund for some paramedics, and really, every other thing you can imagine is well run from the door line to the minute you exit. However, the larger infrastructure of a rave includes travel to and from, crash space after you are partied out, word of mouth to even know about the rave, and so on. A possible risk vector here might be that someone with a van or a crash pad nearby is picking people off after they leave or demanding surprise payment in sex at a rest stop on the way there. Over time the community becomes aware “D” is maybe mistreating some of the folks in transit, but D isn’t official staff and all reports of abuse are coming in third hand- they might be messy break ups, right? Our rave barn group may decide this is simply out of scope and decide not to look into it further. 

The problem is that D is empowered to do this entirely because the rave exists. D would normally not impress a group of people purely because they own a van or can rent a motel 6 once a month. However, because they are the open transport/crash space person they suddenly matter and have power. This impacts the group in a number of ways. People at the group become shy about calling D out openly to not lose this resource. D gains prestige in the group for all their unofficial volunteering, which means if they misbehave at the rave itself they are more likely to get the benefit of the doubt. And, it’s only a matter of time before they get known as van-D and people in your rave community start feeding people to them in good faith. Oops, Molly was just so trashed on Molly they need to leave early, what a good person D is to take Molly from the official (vetted) volunteer and leave early! You can imagine what happens to our non-binary pal Molly next.

And of course D positions themselves as the safest party bus in the world, so anyone else who might step up for transportation or crash space is not incentivized to also driving or hosting. When D finally does get caught, they are a load bearing volunteer and nothing to replace them is immediately available. They also probably have an army of enablers and friends who will bring this fight to your event even if you say it isn’t your problem. Not dealing with D may even allow them to stack your event with their people, eventually letting them get power over you!

Groups are porous and what people do elsewhere absolutely comes to your events. 

Your choice of association, sharing (and alliance) is a type of power.


If you are in a typical BDSM community, art scene or whatever, it probably feel like because there is no central authority it’s basically the wild west. You can try to keep your event secure, but there’s 11ty billion other things going on, some specifically out of spite/after a conflict with another sub-group. The reality is that you actually exist in an overlap. Sure, there’s no central Monarch of the Scene that everyone bows to, but there’s probably a loose, interlocking set of people doing the moving and shaking or volunteering. Likely you also do things to touch base on scheduling to make sure you don’t all plan things on the same night, or inversely stick a spotlight for another thing in your community when a new project is launched. The 80/20 rule also applies, both 20% of folks are doing 80% of the work, and 20% of folks are participating in 80% of the overall activities or shared aspects. Nothing is an island.

If you are planning events or projects, absolutely lean on the existing networks you use to coordinate to formally share things like your code of conduct, ban lists, and policies that work. When deciding who to cross promote, ask the people involved about their policy and who is also involved. You don’t need to be snooty about it- even just some gentle questions can help groups that don’t realize they could be more safe adopt best practices.

If you are just some person with no authority, you are still not as powerless as you think. Use the same mindset for your own protection. Ask those running events what their policy is, how they resolve conflict and what their attitude to safety is. Ask people at events about other things going on in your community what their impression is. If you have the time or energy to volunteer, value yourself and do not give your time to things that fly by the seat of their pants or to whom the attitude to safety amounts to “we care!” without anything more concrete than a vague promise they won’t let it happen.

Choosing who you associate with can give you fomo, but fomo is always better than discovering the thing you invested in is now abusive to you or others. Your presence and endorsement, no matter who you are, is power.

Do not let your group depend on one or a few hero-volunteers, resource, venue/site, celebrity, whatever. 

Everyone likes having stuff (a piece of media, an event, an ephemeral moment), but not everyone has the time, budget and skill to make it happen. Likewise, the perfect space is as much a part of the experience of the group as the people. And, some people are just born with a sparkle and ignite anything they invest in. As such, these things all end up being the biggest avenue of risk for both community predation or exploitation.

Community predators thrive by locking down all of these and either positioning themselves as the gateway to it, or capturing the positive regard of the people who make things happen. Not only does the act of being co-opted into being an enabler form a secondary kind of abuse in itself (it is traumatic and isolating to realize you were duped into helping do harm AND the abuser usually will feed you to the mob if enough ever becomes enough), but community predators love when there’s a bunch of starry eyed folks burning themselves out to make a thing function or happen. It’s win-win for them, they normalize exploitation and their modus operandi is to eventually make themselves inseparable from the thing people love, so all that sacrifice ends up feeding them.

This risk vector is usually accidental. It can be very easy to depend on one person to host and plan things or be the creative director. Likewise, it’s very easy to just turn your brain off and know a specific person can always be counted on to do a thing and mentally decide they and the thing are now inseparable. Finally, we live in a time of scarcity, of time, money and attention so whatever group dreams we have are usually expected to be on shoestring. As a result, those who can tend to take a bit more of the load than they should.

Sometimes you have to be ruthless. A community that will not let you pass the torch, share the load or take a break doesn’t love you the way you deserve to be loved. A single funder may fail at any time. An inability to share the spotlight is always a bad sign, even if it’s because it seems like everyone is too tired, poor, uninspiring or disabled to succeed. Unfortunately, giving into this urge to carry on indefinitely breeds martyrdom.

An environment that expects people to carry on to this point also creates vulnerability to community predation. Burnout is real, and after tackling one or two problems your social battery and reputation may need a break. You have less energy for “drama”, and the invariable ability of a community predator to love bomb the beleaguered makes you ripe for recruitment. Ditto, watch out for when a venue is the only space a thing can happen in. Whether virtual or literal, this mindset makes you accept more potential harm just in belief that demanding change is attacking the group rather than helping it.

Try not to establish yourself in a “for life” role, or find yourself depending on one or two of the same people over and over again. At the very least, those people being deployed to work constantly may not have time to train replacements up to their standards. Also, be mindful that if you get extremely entrenched you may give people the impression that rather than you being down to your last shred of patience with the work, that replacing you would be an act of disrespect.

This can also mean that if you accidentally find yourself enabling a community predator, not only will people assume you knew due to your awesomeness, but that you are in fact in need of being taken out alongside them. And lastly, being too long on one chair can also make people take you for granted in a way that stunts your own development.

If you are a person joining a scene as just a member, do everything you can to prevent stagnation. For example, if your venues are limited to an unsafe space, consider if the super low door price that’s supposed to be inclusive to people of limited means are simply putting vulnerable people into a firetrap. If “M” is always the door person, ask “M” about spelling them for even an hour. Encourage, with love, hero volunteers to step down and take a break. If you have a few group “celebrity”, try to add other voices, and if you have a super funder or donor, lock that shit down into some sort of safety mechanism like an independent-to-them board of directors, or approach any gifts of space, time or money like it’s supposed to be impermanent.

It won’t be easy to make room for more people to pay, contribute and do the work, but long term survival of groups also depend on this even if they don’t get a community predator, so this investment is win-win.

Be up front about high risk behaviors (eg sketchy shit), don’t let it become a free-for-all, and if your community has any sort of charter or guidelines, encode that.

Going back to those 6 risk factors I mentioned in my last post, you may have noticed that they involve a whole bunch of things that are very hard to avoid.  If you have raves, for example, chemically altered states are a feature not a bug. Poor, scrappy queer people can’t afford all the resources of your local country club. Joyful open promiscuity in a play oriented part of the BDSM scene exposes you to new partners you might not have the time to get to know. Add that pesky stigma (did you know that sadomasochism is actually in a grey area of legality in most countries, or on the books illegal?) and exploring things can feel like clog dancing in a minefield

The challenge to get past is the idea that if something has some risk you need to throw all other safety practices out the window. It’s a sort of fallacy that if some things are permitted it’s accepting the possibility of virtually anything happening. There’s also an additional excessive weighting people do of presuming personal responsibility is the beginning and end of anything related to risk. You want to travel to a kink conference in another city and share a hotel room with virtual strangers, only one of whom is paying the majority of expenses? People are quick to say that it’s the fault of the victim if something happens to them. Regrettable? Sure, but what were they expecting?


This is a stupid mindset, which ignores the whole reason we do things in groups. Groups have a powerful ability to normalize certain behaviours, both for good and in service to a community predator. It also runs counter to how humans function. We are not a hive mind, but rather individuals bringing our own often imperfect baseline assumptions of what to expect.

If you are playing with a new person as a BDSM thing, you do not just leap into it with both fists, you talk about limits and even after that you take your time to slowly explore together. There’s nothing you could potentially do that’s automatic, and while there’s space to experiment, anything that could be a novel surprise they consented to must be back stopped by giving people a chance to affirm they are cool with it before it is irrevocable. Similarly, in playing with new people, anyone who is not an idiot knows that people fuck up and freeze, misunderstand and most importantly, communicate subtle signs they are not ok a little differently depending on the person. 

Likewise, many things that are less safe already have very well developed practices for doing them. Humans are absolutely wizards at coming up with harm reduction schemes. Some of these are even turned into real laws, for example the rules in many geographic areas on serving alcohol or the fire code limiting guests and requiring multiple means of egress. An orgy run by smart people has bowls of condoms and single server lube everywhere, a gay bar used for cruising probably has not only free condoms, but public health posters about services for testing and PrEP up in the bathroom and foyer.

If you are running something, a site, an event, etc… as a part of your duty of care, think about the reasonable risks, and what steps you are taking to mitigate them versus what you cannot do. Accept that mitigation means not all behaviour is appropriate for every circumstance. Then, and this is a hard step, make sure people who pass through there have a place where they can see both your processes and where your limitations are. If you are an individual considering participating, one way you can test if a group has their pants on their head is to ask people about their risk plans. I believe some humans will be foolish and will deliberately still seek the absence of safety, but make people admit it.

Whatever you do, do not let people define things as “anything goes” or “entirely at your own risk” without making them publish that in a way anyone who shows up knows this environment is not concerning itself with anything other than what the individual can get away with.

Understand the dynamics of abuse in the community and the aftermath. 

Reacting to, investigating and calling out abuse is made harder if you don’t know what to expect. To an extent, every generation needs to relearn the same common facts, but inversely, the last 10 years gave us a lot of data that as an elder millennial I had to learn the hard way. It includes the following:

Victims generally don’t get abused on day one, but several weeks or months in, after they are invested into the group. Their abuse will be unlikely to be the equivalent of a broad daylight leap from the bushes. Likely it worked like that metaphor of a frog being boiled, with the abuser either getting the person isolated and vulnerable or pecking away at them in a gradual escalation. When you hear about it, the community predator will have a counter story, often posited on how the victim didn’t immediately start screaming and stabbing the minute things were not ok, and how troubled the victim is, or vindictive.

Sexual violence is a crime of power, and opportunity, not desire. Most people sort of have a clue about this, but the corollary is that most community predators are also awful to people they are not attracted to. See, for example, the use of unpaid or underpaid labour in the Gaiman incidents. If you are investigating sexual abuse, other exploitation is a canary. Normalized exploitation is a big sign inviting a predator inside.


Inversely, when you look into information about a community predator, in addition to additional victims you will probably find a bunch of people the abuser did things to who were personally completely fine with it. For example if the abuser likes to randomly initiate sex by groping people without asking, there will be people who luckily for them were into it. By this, the abuser will maintain that what happened to the victim was a regrettable accident. You can’t catch every fuck up, but emphasize that playing fast and loose with things like enthusiastic consent is still an injury to everyone. Note these as a pattern of a potential abuser behaving unsafely.

In the effort to fight abusers, mud will get flung, not just at the victim, but those who helped make an accusation. Your skeletons will get dug up. If you are the amazing bone free minority, something will be invented or something you say or do in an effort to get people’s attention will be harped on as THE REAL CRIME. Most of you probably saw how, say, every single celebrity who accused Weinstien instantly had their integrity called into question, even people who simply endorsed those who came out as victims. This tactic is to make things look murky, but it’s besides the point, because it ultimately is actually trying to argue that abuse should be permitted and expected. I use the term community predation deliberately, because this kind of abuse has normalized the behaviour in the community at large.

Watch out for people who think they can convince an abuser to knock it off through their personal relationship to them. When you uncover something questionable through to dreadful, there are a lot of people who will agree with you that it’s bad, but their solution is to “have a word with” the community predator or promise to keep an eye on them going forward. They are enabling a community predator. Make it clear this isn’t a solution. If they are an event organizer you want a next step spelled out (what is the threshold of banning? Where is your concern being formally recorded? Is this an ongoing investigation). If they are just this person’s buddy, partner, whatever they are not on your side. If they really cared about you or their friend they would work on removing the predator from access to victims. Community predators use sympathy of their enablers to maintain access, but these enablers don’t take the problem seriously. 

Acknowledge your at risk people.

There will always be people who are more vulnerable: the poor, the disabled, the marginalized by an -ism, newbies, etc… They will, by the way, be the imperfect victims. They will behave stupidly, fawning, downplaying or explosively attacking who they think is responsible. They will not have tidy narratives. They will ask or need too much of those who help them, and this will be used to paint them as unsympathetic by those who exploited this lack. They will be too emotional or not emotionally demonstrative in the right way.

Not everyone will want you to pursue useful action, and people who come to you to help probably really don’t believe themselves. That’s both the damage the abuse they experienced caused and also part of the highest at risk group. If your group has participation of the most vulnerable within it, not only prioritize keeping an extra eye on them, including things like checking it with newbies weeks and months after the new person’s shine has started to wear off, but an extra eye on those who work and assist the more vulnerable people. Onboarding is a life long process.

Inversely, anyone can be victimized, but the other group that’s probably doing poorly is the ones closest to the community predator. Access is one of the most important factors in risk.  Community predators absolutely also abuse their enablers and eventually any camouflage that becomes aware of being used. is part of how they keep their people in line. Expect the extra horror of watching say, the partner of a person who valiantly defended their community predator spouse and even brought them victims to turn out to have also been a victim. The harm an enabler did means the group might not have a place for them, too, but take their report of their experience as data and don’t get too hung up on ignoring it in retribution.

You are not infallible, make your peace with that. 

Accept that your squeaky clean reputation and your finite energy for conflict will be used against you. You will mess up, say the wrong thing, not catch every person. Do not let the community decide you are the One Good Person to fight all their battles. It will hurt a lot more when you can’t. It also, once again, makes you the Most Attractive Person to a wannabe community predator, because your endorsement is their camouflage.

If you are reading this nodding along and thinking I am awesome, know that I have fucked up. I have dropped the ball. People have been harmed on my watch, despite my best intention. I almost certainly have someone orbiting my social circle who is noxious. Do not make me the authority. This is about you and what you can do, not what I did. 

And in the spirit of this, I do invite using the comments to share what best practices you found. 

Gaiman, Consent & Community Safety

[Content Note: talk about abuse and sexual assault with specifics and hypotheticals]
A title image: "the anatomy of a community predator" is superimposed over a blurred picture of a hawk

The Vulture recently published There Is No Safeword, a rigorous deconstruction of the ongoing history of predation by author Neil Gaiman, acting against multiple, vulnerable women. This, alone isn’t new information. Nor is the role by which he used BDSM to try to justify his actions. What the article did did, which other discussions didn’t tend to go into as much, was talk about the role of how the community he is part of collectively enabled his behaviour, and how this problem was not just a handful of acts occurring in a vacuum, but an ongoing problem stretching back over a considerable period of time. It was an account that was darkly familiar to me.

Gaiman, whatever else he is, is a textbook community predator or, in common slang, “missing stair”. His history of abuse operated via taking advantage of risk factors in his professional, lifestyle and creative/fan network. He did so via leveraging significant celebrity and money, but also via structuring his social relationships as a part of a larger group to compound the vulnerability of his victims and provide himself with cover. In the immediate experience of those he harmed, it’s a tragedy. In the aggregate, the summation by The Vulture is a powerful teaching tool to help stop it happening again.

For the last decade, in addition to blogging and various creative pursuits, a significant part of my life has been dedicated, with various levels of success, to community safety. I was hardly the only one to try. The groundswell of weird, creative, queer and/or horny geriatric millennials coming of age was to demand better, different and center consent. What I got out of it, other than stress related IBS and a few community hazards at least temporarily disabled, was an awareness of just how universally replicable the behaviour of serial abusers are, and what sort of groups are particularly vulnerable to making a home for them.

I found it in every group I joined or explored, from kink, to LARP and tabletop, to computer games, to dance and writing. I found it in groups I wasn’t part of, film and television, right wing news, straight to religious home schooling.

Pretty much every creative/passion community from churches to 3D open source animation is particularly vulnerable to gaining missing stairs like this and maintaining an ideal habitat for them. The BDSM community, of which you, the reader of this blog are probably part of, is absolutely incredibly vulnerable. I don’t know how much we can stop it from happening, but we can understand why, how and through that what best practices let you fight back, not just from being victimized, but becoming an enabler of someone. 

Here are 6 factors that put your community at risk of creating a safe space for missing stairs:

  • Lots of reliance on volunteers/low paid labour to function and little or no oversight
  • Huge power disparity in group members due to massive differences in money, resources and popularity
  • An entwinement of the personal and professional where the two are functionally the same and everyone participating in the larger community must do both to stay engaged
  • External stigmas creating an Us VS them dynamic with any resource that might be leveraged against abuse being a hazard to everyone continuing to have the group or project (and providing a pool of people experiencing marginalization) 
  • Recruitment, with a supply of new people coming in or joining.
  • Mind altering substances (drugs and/or alcohol)

Hey wait, that’s everyone!

Sharp eyed people may notice that virtually every community they could be part of is subjected to most or all of these factors, so I suggest another framing tool. 

Treat predatory dynamics entrenching themselves in your community as being much like controlling for things like the spread of STIs. This might seem counter intuitive, in so much that having or spreading a disease is almost always involuntary whereas sexual predation very much involves the very human agency of the person doing it. However, missing stairs need the rest of the staircase to be dangerous. 

The point of knowing risk factors is not necessarily to stop doing things, but to handle risk with the respect it deserves. You, the reader, likely inherently understand that nothing can be made perfectly free of potential harm, but taking risks means that you need to construct a structure or series of practices to mitigate them AND you need to be brutally honest about the risks involved with everyone participating. At a personal level, kinky people do things like only doing bondage if they supervise the tied person the whole time. At a community level, acknowledging risks means establishing means to reduce or remove harm collectively.

The Anatomy of a Community Predator

I will say this first, a community predator is not just limited to rock star authors. It could be a volunteer, a mentor, and oldbie or anyone who leverages their established role in a community to attack its members. The community could be as vast and prestigious as a ruling political party or as small and humble as the choir in a single senior care facility. The fact that we keep catching men doing it is not because anything about being a man makes you biologically inclined to rape, but that the social factors that favour disparity in power and status predominantly also favour men, particularly cis dudes. For the same reason that it’s easier to be a successful novelist if you are a white cis dude, it’s simply easier to be a successful predator (and go longer before you get caught). If sexism ended tomorrow we would still have community predators.

Thus, anyone could be abusive in their personal relationships, but who we hold in more scrutiny selects for who is more likely to be in that role. As such, even though the majority of abuse examples are cis men, I deliberately use gender neutral language. 

Abusers are parasites. They pursue the idea that they are a great person/seminal in their field/the lifeblood of the community/the one person speaking truth to power. Their work might be real, but it will be weighted disproportionately even above whatever it was. 

Their behaviour not only stacks up victims, but selects for people who they believe won’t challenge them effectively and eventually drains resources from the collective to the maintenance of themselves and the harm they do. For example, it’s often remarked how humouring the predatory behavior of certain great sci-fi and fantasy authors within their writing community discouraged more women to participate. If being letched on was the price of admission for most of the women trying to break in, of course many of them would decide the juice wasn’t worth the squeeze. Satisfying one person’s ego therefore comes at the expense of the potential of countless others. To add insult to injury, they often warp everything around them so when you attempt to remove or stop them they do a great deal of damage to the group itself in the process.

Abusers also benefit from grey areas, and benefit of the doubt. They suck up all the grace and good faith we extend to others, counting on us to cut our losses or forgive. Community predators depend on our desire to only speak when we think we will be believed, and when we ourselves are beyond reproach. They very much thrive in positioning their victims in a state of perceived mutually assured destruction. More frustratingly, abusers can also be victims, either sharing marginalization, a past history of trauma or existing as a catspaw on someone else’s predation. 

Questionable behavior also becomes a sort of means to get power over even those they aren’t directly abusing. Getting you to participate or turn a blind eye to their behaviour makes you complicit, and of course they will blur the distinction between their abuse and fun but socially frowned on activities. If the culture at large hates consensual promiscuity or kink they will recast criticism of themselves as the voices of prudes and fuddy duddies. If they want to play with alternative “traditional” social structures, they will cast criticism as wicked and worldly. BDSM, in particular, has a distinct culture of silence and a very real fear of both outing and engaging formal law enforcement.  

Importantly, in understanding the harm community predators cause, they also do not tend to confine themselves to just sexual violence, but leverage their uneven power disparity, be it star power, professional contacts, money (including being a funding guru), life saving resources and so on to make or break the experience of others. They will steal, redirect the labour of others to their benefit and ostracize those who challenge them. If there is a whisper network, they clog it with conflict and counter rumors, until it becomes unreliable. If there is a community accountability process they will become a vexatious litigant or rules lawyer their way into making complaints against them nullified. 

They will pursue personal vendetta and redirect popular scorn not just on people who oppose sexual violence, but anyone who blocks them getting what they want. As in the case of Gaiman, community predators absolutely overlap with labour exploitation even as they frame themselves as a saviour, rescuer or donor. 
And, by blurring the personal with whatever projects they are part of, community predators will reframe conflicts according to whatever suits them. Conflict is simplified to “drama”, accusations of sexual conduct are blurred with it being a civil dispute over resources or a political squabble over control. That these may be happening simultaneous to sexual abuse essentially adds insult ot injury.

I share all this to stress that it can be tempting to dismiss a community predator as simply a personal matter. Even if you are not the preferred “type” for this person, remember that there’s a higher than average chance they will eventually harm everyone. The best time, when you detect a community predator, to remove them was yesterday, but you cannot simply let these people be and expect the matter not to escalate and spread.

[Part 2 Pending]

Trying the Solace by Lovense

Testing the Solace Does it live up to the fantasy an image of the Solace remote control masturbation sleeve by Lovense

Is the Solace good, though?

Short answer: 

The Solace is ambitious, creating a toy in an underserved niche and miniaturizing a fucking machine to a bit bigger than a chunky loaf of bread.  Unfortunately, the tech is not there yet, but it’s a good try and incredibly impressive for what it is. If you are an early adopter, or get off on the aesthetics of machines themselves this could be a great fit. However, there’s a few design flaws here that make it not quite the winner of their other products.

The toy might be priced at $369, but never in my history of buying from them have they not had pretty steep discounts running at all times, including of all things a %60 off for students. In reality it will probably set you back something in the range of $184.

Long Answer:

Lovense is one of those popular brands that has a pretty established presence as the defining version of a niche category: remote controlled sex toys. I have a long history of ending up in LDRs where anything horny is happening at a distance. Silver and I filled that gap by buying various and sundry Lovense products, and he was a fan even predating our relationship. I am usually the worst reviewer in the world for stuff (I don’t like most things and I can’t do the reviewer vague positive that would ever make it a reliable business model for me), but I have had enough success with Lovense in the past to take a gamble here. When Lovense reached out to maybe, possibly consider an affiliate code sign up, I decided why the heck not. They were even willing to send me a toy to review, and me, being shameless, asked for one of their fancier options, the Solace.

That being said… the Hush is their old reliable that I would recommend to anyone with a butthole, but Silver, on his own, tried their prostate version, and I got him the Max one year (the OG edition). Neither of those worked out quite as well. They make good anniversary/birthday/christmas gifts, and I have remarked before that I was pleasantly surprised by the Gravity (my review here). Alas, lightning didn’t strike twice.

I really wanted the toy, a penis engulfing, handheld milker, to work for us. It’s a concept that fits really well into my fantasies, a relentless, hands free apparatus you strap someone into and they are mercilessly teased and drained. If it had worked as well as I imagined, this would probably be a Lovense stan account now and Silver would be lying comically shrivelled in a puddle of lube and semen.

But, in the history of sex toys, onnaholes simply have never gotten the love of dildos, plugs and vibes. When it comes to things you stick your dick into, their relative lack of penetration (snrk) to the western market belays a bunch of psycho-social biases that give the technical side of the problem less of a foundation. A buttplug is a solved problem Lovense is simply improving by adding their app, a powered masturbation sleeve is an experimental satellite launched to sample Mars for evidence of life. 

So, I certainly applaud the company’s ambition here. Lovense takes some pretty big swings, trying to adapt their system to everything from a vagina operated control stick for their other toys to nipple clamps, and that’s generally a thing I care about. Teledildonics is a tech that I will never say no to innovation in.  However, the problem with the Solace is threefold:

There’s not enough sensation, it’s hard to operate and it’s loud.

Loud is forgivable. It’s the Mach I of a motor driven toy. When we tested it, the noise part was dealt with by putting a hood on Silver so that it sounded a bit less like you were getting a panicked hand job from Beaker. Loud might even be a value add if you are one of the many folks turned on by knowing this is a machine, so if that was the only issue I would have been able to ignore it. If we are being fair, the Gravity is loud too.

The operation challenge, unfortunately, is the make or break part. Some things were seamless. It connects and controls with the app beautifully, and has buttons on the unit so you can do manual if you really want to. Points there for making a toy that doesn’t brick if they stop supporting it. For the person controlling it from a distance it’s easy as pie to figure out. One slider controls depth of thrust, the other speed. As well as full control, you can create a loop or leave it on one setting while you do other things to the victim. All very good.


The problem comes from the deployment part. It’s hard to keep your dick in it, and it doesn’t offer enough stimulation to get you anywhere on its own. Worse, if you wiggle too much the safety feature to prevent the motor from burning itself out doesn’t let you hilt. It will immediately stop moving with a worried whine. At no point on Silver was it going to the base of his cock. If he wiggled at all, which most aroused people will do, his cock easily popped out and sort of wobbled uselessly next to the unit while it still shrieked away, hell for leather.


The manual suggests two options, attaching it with the included brackets to the front of a desk, pointing down (as if you were doing a cam2cam session with someone else) or simply holding the whole unit in place on yourself, on all fours. I don’t know how Lovense thinks this is going to work, but the external housing is rounded hard plastic. Not only is it bigger than the average person’s hand span (and awkwardly heavy), but there is no texture on the exterior. Add some lube and you are immediately going to drop this puppy. If this ever gets a Mach II this needs a handle and some external grippy silicone. I can’t stress how much the base to brace off is essential in a thrusting toy, and if you want to hold it on yourself you will need both hands. 

Furthermore the dependence on the desk bracket is doing a lot of work in assuming the height of your desk and the clearance between your lap and chair. We were lucky, as I own a sit stand desk that can be adjusted exactly so. But if you don’t, you may struggle even more than we did. You will not be using this, despite the advertisement, “slumped on the sofa” or “lying in bed” without some extra work and I don’t know if this unit would handle being stuffed between mattress and box spring the way you can a Fleshlight.

The sensation problem is perhaps the last point of concern. I get that Lovense’s safety feature on the motor would be at odds with the toy having any availability to grip, but they are offering what is in effect a stroking toy, but one size fits most and without suction, that will be largely stroking the middle third of a penis. If it can’t suck, it needs to vibe or it needs a heck of a lot more texture. Otherwise on most people it’s a whole lot of effort for nothing in particular as far as outcome. And that, given what the toy is trying to do is a unfortunate. They do offer a tighter “vagina sleeve” as an aftermarket add on, but unless the depth issue also is fixed I worry that isn’t enough and the innards of that sleeve might still not bridge the gap. It’s also pretty baffling that if you hop up in price point to the Solace Pro their default sleeve has a lot more texture. Was there really that much to be saved when they both have a base price of $369 USD?


At this point you are probably wondering why you would even bother with this and I am probably going on some reviewer blacklist somewhere, but I will reiterate the positives…

The good stuff about the Solace (and the brand)


At least based on porn and fantasy, people really, really want this toy to be a thing and bless them, Lovense is taking the problem seriously. Particularly in the niche of femdom, stuff that flips the gaze to focus on the bottom is a breath of fresh air. This toy is clearly designed with the vagnina based control stick I mentioned as the intended pairing (the Mission 2) and that’s spaceage level miracles.

And if you do want a hands free remote control option that you won’t struggle to hold, there’s always the Max 2, which is outside grip texture all the way, or the Calor, which leaves the squeeze in the hand of the one operating it. The tech here still has a lot of room to grow, but it’s clear that Lovense considers it a priority when they offer both their regular and pro edition.

I’m also happy to note you can get replacement sleeves for incredibly cheap ($15 USD if there’s no sales), and since this part will be the bit that needs changing most often (soft materials mean porous) this significantly increases the possible life of the toy. Furthermore, I haven’t experimented with cramming other maker’s sleeves into the channel, but the design is so simple it does suggest some aftermarket modding is possible. If you are into cutting edge sex tech, wanting to mod your stuff is probably your default state.

Lovense, as a company, is also surprisingly affordable for what you get. I already mentioned they are always running sales, but for bang for your buck, you will generally get what you paid for. And, while this one might have undershot the target a bit, but given a year or two I suspect their 2 version will have made up considerable distance.

“A Holiday Under Her Control” -Femdom Christmas Romantic Comedy

"A Holiday Under Her Control" a femdom romance by Pearl O'Leslie is depicted as a red book surrounded with more details you can find inside including: Finding love after a breakup, Woman Taking Charge, The Magic of Finally Feeling Seen, Femgaze Femdom, Sadism... with love and Her Hero? Her Sub. A caption lets you know it's available now

A lot of you have heard my particularly strident complaints that there’s a distinct lack of both femgaze femdom and femdom romances. So… I wrote a book! A sweet, sentimental and wonderfully cozy story about two people finding each other and falling in love through femdom. It’s spicy as a gingersnap, but it’s also a story about the magic of finally feeling seen by someone who completely gets you.

And yes, it’s available in both ebook and paperback!

What’s The Story?

Big city lawyer Trevor (personal injury, junior partner) has just been dumped on Christmas Eve. His fiancée’s return to her small home town has gone permanent after deciding to throw all in to save her father’s bakery. She blamed catching the Christmas spirit, but Trevor knows damn well that a reunion with a High School bad boy from her past is probably a much more significant factor than she’s letting on. Now he’s at a bar on Christmas day, trying to forget the worst Christmas of his life by burying himself in work. He’s ready to call Bah humbug! and stack billable hours, but holiday magic has other plans in the form of posh rich girl Elizabeth. She’s also smarting from a breakup of her own and makes him an offer: join her until New Year’s Eve for a get away in her family’s cottage and prove that the best way to get over someone is get under someone else.

Their chemistry is perfect, and Elizabeth’s never found someone so effortlessly able to be what she wanted. But with ghosts of relationships past haunting them both, can her sweet sadism and his desire to please be enough to see them together after the end of A Holiday Under Her Control?

Property Under Pressure

Not quite watersports.

It’s somewhere between 3 and 4 pm. He slips out into the narrow hall that connects his office and the bathroom to the main area of our apartment. When we moved in together, one room became his space, while I sprawl out in an organic extension of hobby clutter across the rest. 

Thus, with his office, I feel like I need to ask to go in, even when it is not in use. Not in a forbidden blue beard’s secret room sort of way, but a matter of consent. The irony is not lost on me that at any moment I can stick my fingers in his mouth, maul his testicles or shove him into the wall and pin his arms over his head, but heaven forfend I retrieve something from his desk without checking first. Or go into the office closet and get some item like the tool box or our winter coats. 

He didn’t request this rule, it’s a rigid cultural thing raised into me like fruit tree branches growing bound to a wire. Shoes off indoors, don’t start eating until the cook does, respect the room of another. Do not listen to music without headphones. Space. Quiet. Privacy.

But he’s out now, and I swoop in for a kiss even as he does lean to me for the same. I do that a lot, pitter-patter fast feet down the long hall when he is back from the gym in the morning to engulf him in a tackling embrace. Crane in when he’s brought back something from an errand outside (don’t leave people to put a load of groceries away alone, another Rule). Right now he can feel the edge of my desire and we are starting to cocoon ourselves in the erotic. I ask him if he is done work for the day. Unspoken that means: “is this a quickie before a last meeting or room for something else, more?”

A quickie means he will masturbate just to the edge of orgasm in front of me. Maybe once, maybe three times. Otherwise I will draw him into the bedroom a few steps more behind us, into the bed and more will happen 

“Yes he is done,” but, getting my meaning, he says he will “visit the washroom first”.

Practicals, of course.

Have to respect them. The pull apart will happen and then he will come back to pick up where we left off. Probably in the bedroom, on top of the covers, or me on the bed and him beside it, stripping off his clothes.

Imp of the perverse, my hand snakes out, to his stomach, low, where his belly becomes his groin. When it is empty it’s hard to find, full and the muscle there feels tense. I press the absence of softness. 

I have done it before a little bit. It’s the sort of half gross half playful thing you do to tease in the comfort of a relationship. We’ve never had an interest in piss play in the regular sense. No champagne coupe glasses of golden nectar, no human toilets. Just another kind of discomfort to play with. It’s like another game, my hand over his mouth and nose, taking his breath away. I always let it linger for a few seconds longer than when the involuntary struggling kicks in. Just enough to produce the illusion “you don’t know I won’t smother you”, so hind brain juices him with adrenaline while forebrain knows I absolutely wouldn’t go that far. 

The unspoken threat in the press on his bladder, that I might leave him in discomfort until he pisses himself. There’s also the point of the moment: That he doesn’t get the dignified little pretend ritual where we both don’t openly acknowledge our bodies do taboo things. Humans are weird, we half self train not to mess in a coached operation of little plastic chairs and picture books, and then an elaborate ritual develops of accommodation. It’s not a room to piss and shit in, it’s the bathroom. The washroom. Even toilet, shamelessly borrowed from the french for washing oneself, is a minor impoliteness such that the word is navigated around. And used in a juvenile act of daring for a meme that only works because we think it’s dirty.

What I am doing now, pressing on his bladder is not really comfortable, but the nerve endings that control urination do double duty. That’s how you learn to do a kegel, stopping the flow of urine. The whole groin to ass area uses the same nerves and muscles to contain, eject and come. It’s a simple system too, normally the bladder, filled up, pushes internally to tell you to tend to it. When it’s full and you poke it the body demands attention, mistaking the intrusion for more urgency.

He winces, as I press. Just a little, over and over. His reaction nudges me on. I am drawn to that vulnerability, the slight extra hesitation of the extra taboo. Press. Press. I think that perhaps I will need to let him go soon. I think the game can only go so far. But, there’s pleasure there in holding him to the wait. 

I want it to last. I reach into my own discomfort, a game of chicken. I nudge him towards our washroom door, almost next to the office he just left. Again, a threat. My presence prevents the polite rite of privacy. He is waiting on that urgency with a now incredibly hard cock. Now, with him in front of the toilet, I am alternating stroking up and down its length and pressing on his bladder again. He is making shy, squirmy twitches of his shoulders, sidelong glances, speaking in incomplete sentences, trapped in embarrassment.

I whisper, “Do you want me to leave?”

He doesn’t say anything, maybe a little noise, more wriggling. That’s an affirmation, for us. He usually will never ask for more, maintaining the head space of cnc. He almost never asks to come, vocalizes most things in service to the idea that nothing that happens to him is with his enthusiasm.

More touching, kisses. There’s a black wire shelf over the back of the toilet, holding miscellaneous overflow. He is bent so his forehead almost touches the top shelf, occasionally bracing with one hand on the far side of it. Squirm. His body is at once turning away from and towards me, like a pinned animal involuntarily moving against what has seized in. I am standing to his left, and half behind him, looming and trapping him in the corner of the room.

“It’s going to be so hard to pee with an erection,” I murmur. Any acknowledgment on his part lacks coherent words.

This whole time I can feel my face is a bit hot, embarrassed by myself, daring, probing. It’s that act of dominant masochism. I am not frank, either. Even as I am charge, the taboos about this are as active in me as they are him. Rationally, I know this isn’t a big deal. I have seen friends sit on the mouth of another to piss. I’ve explored squatting on the floor of the shower with a past partner to see if that gave any sort of interesting charge (it didn’t, probably as much a factor of them as what I was doing).

My foot kicks, with my hands full to try to flip the toilet seat up. I can see the bowl, with its pooled water, the slight discolouration. I cleaned the damn thing literally the day before. The mold in the pacific northwest, unlike back east, grows fast in vibrant orange, like a rust stain. I can’t quite get the seat up that way and he finishes the gesture. He’s immersed in his own torment, participating.

I encourage, depriving him of even the least ability to hide, to have even this secret, or a whiff of the courtesy of a secret. I feel like I am holding him over a precipice, threatening to let go.

His cock is so velvety in my palm, his face a little rough, his touches, of me, in increasing desperation. His eyes are frightened but glassy with desire. I alternate between stroking and roaming his body, viciously pinching his nipples like I could pull them off. In one moment of that tussle I realize his right shoulder had dipped. He is pulling at his own cock, a spiral turning in on itself, pumping.

I press on his bladder again, crooning, “go on.”

He tries now, trying to compose himself to let a stream of urine out. Holding his cock to point it in the right place. It’s not going to happen. The muscles inside have spasmed, shunting one function to another.

“I can’t…” To call it a whine implies a crawling nails on a chalkboard wheedle that’s not in his tone, but it’s a whine of helpless admission.

I press on his bladder again, and pinch at his nipple, up under his shirt. “Go on.”

Again, more trying. He cannot. Squirm. Squirm. A single drop at the head of his cock that might well be pre-cum.

“I can’t.” He says in a whisper. Another long silent moment of my torment upon him. One more try, but I know he’s pushed as far as he can go. Not shyness or disobedience, but a wall he cannot walk through.

“Alright,” I say, beginning to pull back from him. “I’ll let you finish.”

As I walk out of the bathroom and close the door, I can hear the bang of the toilet seat dropping so he can sit down. It’s a last note of amusement. The same thing that makes me keep accidentally picking partners who are a little larger than average in the cock department seems through no effort on mine, to choose men who prefer to sit to pee.

Later business done, he will come to the bedroom and we will continue. But it is this scrap of the game we play together that will linger with me. 

Femdom Review “The Tied Man” by Tabitha McGowan

The Tied Man Tabitha McGowan

This is a tabloid thriller romp meets gothic romance into what I would probably describe more as caretaker whump appreciation of bad things happening to a male captive than anything traditionally femdom. Still, if your entry to this kink is more focused on the hurt/comfort male suffering part and the power fantasy of being a rescuer, this book has a lot to offer. And, if last week’s review (What Was Meant To Be) was too cozy for you, this one definitely won’t be.

Our protagonist is a mixed background,  loose cannon artist, Lilith Bresson, coerced by a wealthy aristocratic Blaine Albermarle to come to her remote castle resort and produce a commission.  There Lilith, or “Lily” meets Blaine’s pretty but damaged boytoy Finn, and comes to discover that the resort offers more than a relaxing getaway to discerning patrons. Our heroine has stumbled into one of those rich people sex-torture clubs where everything is available for the right price, and Finn is one of the prize victims in Blaine’s stable.

After a prickly start, Finn and Lilith begin to form a connection, even as Blaine seeks to ensnare more subjects in a web of blackmail. A cascade of badness follows. Everything and the kitchen sink happens to Finn in loving and lurid detail, while Lilith tries to fight back and wrestle with her own demons.

The tabloid framing, one with a paparazzi lurking for her as a minor celebrity they aren’t sure if they should destroy or worship, and the tawdry glamor of Lilith’s politician father, are equally integral to the setting, seaming together to amp up the drama while giving the audience a taste of a power fantasy of our own, one where it’s plausible one very angry young woman can destroy a criminal network in the manner of a more traditional hero slaying a dragon. If the BDSM without limits brothel with real sex slaves angle is a bit far fetched to read straight (not to mention the logistical overhead of the sheer level of blackmail gluing everyone to the situation), the added concerns of talk shows and award ceremonies almost serve to ground the story’s violent conspiracy excesses as precisely the sort of thing that same sort of media purports to be true.

Thus you can just absolutely feel the nasty, UK Grim atmosphere leaking through, a sort of tonal filter much like a Russian novel’s typical, almost hysterical bleakness. If the characters are largely trapped on an island castle at the whims of its master, so also is the setting one where leaving the resort is just being on a different sort of covert island torture prison.

There isn’t anything you would associate with Lilith being a traditional dominant, and indeed she’s put through almost as much shit as the male lead. However, the fanfiction classified aesthetic of whump is something I talked about before as a place where a lot of the porn for dommes hides. If the damsel-in-distress trope has a lengthy history of being a covert excuse for bondage and lingering over a helpless feminine victim and her suffering, here too is the gender flip option.

This is a great read for a chilly autumn evening, where you want something juicy and just a little bit horrific to titillate you into the shivers.

TL;DR 

Imagine a role reversal Orpheus and Eurydice, if the captive was in as close to actual hell as possible. Caretaker + whump victim struggle their way to an escape, with very much a flavour of a fox trying to get out of wolf’s den, only to exit into a forest where the hounds are already baying for a hunt.

Scenes From a Femdom Marriage

We were 3/4 of the way through an episode of Mice & Murder when I realized we were starting to procrastinate on our pre- planned play time. He is going in and out of a doze because he has already seen this episode, but he’d also put this on in the first place after we’d already watched the back half of the prior one and Saturday is definitely drawing to a lazy close with things, or rather him, left undone. That won’t do. I tell him to pause the show and strip, while I start rummaging to find my latex catsuit in the three boxes the latex is stored in. I have wanted to do this since yesterday, almost did it last afternoon of my own volition, but his work day ended early and instead we cuddled with his head against my chest and the stress of things seeping from him in an almost audible hiss. 

It wasn’t the right moment then, not just for his obvious state of stress, but because I have been a bit fragile too. While he would have been able to transition from the vagaries of tech industry imperial court nonesense into helpless little bitch mode, I knew then I would need more emotional uplift from him than he was prepared to give if I was going to hurdle into into the head state to treat him like a besotted fuck toy and not obsess over my own troubles. You can do the surprise firm pounce on a stressed person, but not when you can feel the raw edge that if something goes wrong in your bullying, on your side, you might end up in tears.

Instead, the other day I had vocalized, around previously scheduled D&D sessions and farmer’s market trips, I wanted to take time to do more than the casual default we had gotten into the pattern of doing. This weekend Something More should happen. And it was important I put it on our mental calendars, because we aren’t doing it as much these days, and that’s not what I want for us. 

It’s a hazard, in couples that live together, that kink stops being An Event. Even as you still have the sexual energy of a couple of rabbits, you can just coast on your prior exploits. It’s not a dead bedroom, or a default to vanilla, either. It’s almost that the emotion/narrative of all the elaborate nonsense that has passed between you so far wears a reliable groove where trying hard is no longer necessary. You get the couple version of how you can get so comfortable with your particular kink you don’t need to read the whole story/watch the film/finish the fantasy to come, just the idea of it. In a couple, much as you can look at eachother and toss out just the punchline to a running joke to make the other person laugh, with mutual kink dynamics of any tenure you can just hit one or two of the right spots and bam, you go from slightly in the mood to done, cozy together and discussing what veggies in the fridge need to be cooked up first before they wilt into the trash heap. 

It’s not that that’s not nice, in itself. In fact that’s sort of the ideal foundation, but if that’s all you do, over time it starts feeling like just how easy it is comes is at the expense of the potential highs of putting in a smigen more effort. I’d even told him maybe after an episode of Dimension20 we should play, but now I can feel the inertia of the cozy bed and when I start hearing the little whistle of his semi unconscious breath I know, very starkly that if I don’t say something now, all that is going to happen is some makeouts, and edging session and then I will make myself come and there’s nothing left of the day but dinner.

And honestly I am not tracking this episode either, just surfing erotica on my phone intermittently. I can almost perfectly visualize the episode ending in another 10 minutes, be kissing, and the way that just immediately goes to me coming and then  him making roast chicken and the peach cobbler I also planned. So I take control. The TV goes off. I tell him he is going to help me suit up. We are going to do this. 

Of course there’s another delay. He makes a trip to the bathroom and I need to pee before this suit is going on, so I sort of wait around in anticipation unable to do much else. I am both psyching myself out and being cross enough with my own brain that I am in a simmer of horny and cranky. I remind myself that I trust him and if things don’t actually click this late afternoon it isn’t the end of our kink life. Now he is chilled out enough I can be insecure without is just being a buzz kill.

So, dressing, we talk about how I am worried the suit won’t fit (I am learning to deal with a healthier, but fatter body) and navigate around how I messed up my shoulder last month in a way that compresses my ulnar nerve. That’s been the other major damper on our play. It’s hard to feel attractive when extending your right arm causes immediate 7/10 pain. But the injury is better and the suit fits fine. Kink Engineering does good work and while there is a lingering stiffness on my injured side I can feel from the latex full body squeeze, it’s trivial. 

I remind myself of the same thing I did after our first play time and he drove me 4 hours home. I trust he wants to be here and knows how not to offer what he doesn’t actually want to give. I trust him to be an adult, not a martyr, and a veteran kinkster who long since discarded unreasonable kink expectations. There’s like 5 minutes of polishing and sort of trying to get into the groove. I am still so jangly it feels like he isn’t there, in that mindless lust state, but I am also aware even if he was, my brain is enough of a scumbag to lie he isn’t. So I tell him to choose the position I am going to fuck him in, and snatch the harness from where it hangs in the closet.

Of *course* the dildo I want is missing, and he has to get up to help me find the box of cocks. We go through and “um, pick one of these three” moment with some other reluables, but I find the general, a more implausible toy. There’s my hair and fluff stuck to it and I am distracted by cleaning it. If I was more organized, I would have had my chosen cock in hand before I suited up, but that’s not who I am. I tend to play by inspiration, not a script, even my own. I walk tiptoe to the kitchen sink so as not to lubricate our floor worse from any silicone that drips off me. Silver, out of the three, picks the bumpy white one he usually prefers.

That one is kind of meh for strapon play because it has a hollow core at the base you are supposed to lodge a bullet vibe. I think this is an unfortunate choice, and it makes it worse for thrusting, but I am not going to nitpick after asking, because that’s a bedroom confidence killing move and I did offer. And, in fairness it’s a visually pretty toy with ridges just where they need to be. If the designer hadn’t given it a vibe pocket it would be my number 1 too.

However, at the lubing him stage I determine that his ass, usually drum tight, is pretty loose today. This is incredibly variable, with some days it being a bit tender, too. Not today, perhaps due to the on his back spread V he chose. My fingers just shloop in, as my gloved hand works him over. I can get four to the knuckle easy, his absolute limit on his best days. 

Butt stuff is always a delicate process, emotionally, because even cleaned out you may find something. I can’t even call them “surprises”. That’s like opening your fridge and being surprised it has food in it. Pretty universally, the one getting filled is in a much more emotionally vulnerable place because they are worried about being an object of disgust. But, today he is clean, not even notable santorum. An idea, already planted from my rummage of the cock-box forms.

He is already edging away while I work, as it’s the other trick to open someone up- and every stab of crooked fingers into his prostate is getting significant reactions. Reader, lest you doubt there is anything going on other than this sort of physical mechanics there is significant dialogue being exchanged by way of psychological stimulation, but up until this point things aren’t quite feeling they click for me. When I am jamming him into proper groans I start feeling the connection I want, but it’s still taking a while to warm up.

Chronic pain, body changes, all that bullshit really get in the way. Yet it’s the most pain free day I have had in a month and I am still pushing through the sort of bad feeling hangover. I do end up giving him a few thrusts with the strap-on loaded with his ridgey pick, but this isn’t quite it. I make a judgment call.

The ruddy, plump headed general had already been thrust into his mouth after it’s impromptu rinse. I’d left it lying on the bed next to his hip, and I scoop it up, announcing that he is going to take this for me, too. I am pretty sure he’s limber enough for some moderately advanced anal invasion.

Fucking men in the ass in your terns is not the universal apex of dominance, but the knowledge of his body combined with my fetish for larger insertions is making things lubricate on my side as much as he is opening up on his. I don’t force it, nudging, with many groans and whimpers on his side.

It’s actually hard not to stop here because the noise he makes in pain and the noise of not really pain at all but just hitting the spot just so are pretty similar. That’s where my experience with him matters. After pulling the literal plug well before his limit numerous times, I know that if I stop now I will be over cautious. I can, as it’s after all as much my prerogative to stop at my limit as much as everything must stop at his. But precisely because of the number of times I have stopped sooner than he’d have liked, in this moment I know just how much further I can go.

We have never discussed this as an official safeword, but I know now the moment it turns into a harsh, “Fuck!” is actually the stop point. We aren’t there yet, but it’s a nudge forward/nudge back kind of thing where one step away to ease up only means two steps deeper, after.

I drop into soothing encouragement. He is so focused on the challenge at hand that he won’t have more than mono syllables or little head twitches to work with. That’s more than enough and the general is several inches lodged, exactly where I want it.

At this point it’s not about depth but travel. In, out, never entirely popping free. His hand is still pumping his cock up and down in a way that’s basically instinct to him. The toy is gliding nice and easy. There’s a definite sensation of finite space and resistance on my end, gripping the flared base and leaning into it, but it’s neither a hard block nor rough scrape. I couldn’t tell you in minutes how long this goes on. Honestly the whole thing feels pretty brief, in hindsight. In the moment it’s enough, the way pleasurable sensation lingers, like a mouthful of something delicious making things seem to extend past the gulp, chew, linger, mmm, and swallow.

But, Silver is particularly quickly undone to size… if I can get it in. A whole sideline exploration into inflatable plugs has taught me that he’s a combo of a tight ring, but weak to a firm jam up against the underside of his cock. The general, and probably my encouraging but persistent running patter about how he is taking it, he is going to take it, this is for me, etc… have got him to the point where he yanks that hand away from his cock, now, with a great deal of urgency. He utters something about being close.

I wasn’t going to make him come, I planned, prior when I first started thinking about slithering into the catsuit, to leave him wanting. This always happens, every time things get prolonged. I tell him he may.

Well, precisely I tell him if my cock and only my cock forces him to come that was meant to happen. And it does. It’s like pushing him off a precipice all that manual edging placed him on, but it’s also a sensation like the invader in his ass is forcibly displacing the semen out of him. After he is done he stays in position looking utterly drained, even as I ease the dildo out of him and post it into the sink as well.

Check ins do not end where I expect, however. He stays put and spread, but as sandbagged as he is acting there’s and insistent second wind. I chase that to see where it goes, with his hand back on his cock and another, fresh dildo wedged into his mouth.

Crooning more nonesense mantra about holes and their utility quickly shows he has a rare second go in him. I am on my period, and what I want, to engulf him, feels a bit too much. I slick my thighs with more lube and get him to fuck those instead. That isn’t quite right, though it feels good.

The catsuit has an access zip, but it’s in the way and I am too slippery to come now with this on. I make another decision in the moment and send him to get a fresh towel. The tampon gets posted into the bathroom trash.

When he is back, there’s a bit of a decline in turgidity and I can see things sliding into performance frustration because at first it’s not wanting to couple up they way he hopes. I take charge again and essentially grab him by the brain, commanding with firm confidence it doesn’t matter. I wrap my legs tight around him. His job is to rut. He will obey. Doing that and even losing a small lake of cum earlier isn’t enough to stop him going the rest of the way hard. Then he is mine, completely engaged. I croon that he will fuck to exhaustion or until he breaks and falls. 

Still unusual for us, it’s the latter, intense, even more so than the first time. He is limp on top of me and I am holding him, reminding him he did a good job. Only when he recovers do I turn firm again. This catsuit is coming off because I want an orgasm and it is now in the way.

He helps me slither out, careful of the fragile material. I am on my back and he is helping, at my direction, with how I want my breasts touched. My orgasm is not long after that, finally, long awaited. 

I don’t recall much of the rest of the evening other than the chicken and potatoes, and that we both cleaned off somehow. I do remember two sets of cozy pajamas, and holding him with many uttered affectionate statements of love, but the rest blurs into the many nights that have been and will be just like this one, in bed until we are asleep. 

Femdom Review “What Was Meant To Be” by Heather Guerre

Lake Lenora Book 2 What Was Meant To Be Author of the Tooth & Claw Series Heather Guerre

Cozy, autumnal and… autistic representation? This gentle femdom contemporary romance is an absolute comfort read to grab as the season transitions. While people are a lot more familiar with her previous exploration into femdom, with her immensely creative take on the billionaire romance genre of “Preferential Treatment”, Guerre released this one to perhaps a bit less acclaim, but no less quality. Consider this your chance to grab an underrated gem.

Ok, enough gush – what are you in for?

Wes Sorenson has one last hurdle in restoring his family’s resort, an arranged marriage to Rain Kateb. Per her old fashioned father, Rain isn’t able to function in the outside world and a husband is the easiest solution. If Wes wants the final piece of missing land she’s a non-negotiable part of the deal.
Rain is autistic, and this is handled extremely well. One of the most awkward parts of neurodivergence is the general conflation with having high support needs in some areas with being low capacity in everything. Much of the story is told from her perspective as she gets out of the stifling control of her father and learns to find her own two feet. And very refreshingly, not all the challenges she deals with are attributed to her autism. Rain grew up in an artist’s commune and is navigating being both biracial and steeped in very different cultural norms of her hippy mother for the first half of her life.

Although Wes sets her up as a roommate he thinks he is expected to care for, Rain quickly overturns his expectations, with a take charge dynamic even as the writing permits her to be unsure and experience growth. This is one of the places Guerre shines, with a dominant being vulnerable without undermining her. Expect wholesome and accepting idealized small town vibes and a very omnipresent autumn atmosphere, as Rain comes into her own. Autistic readers please be reassured, Rain is not here to inspire anyone else, not even her love interest. She’s here to be inspired, recognized and admired.

That being said, I further emphasize the “cozy” label. There’s no intense stakes heavier than getting out of the house, and nothing approaching physical violence. Also, while I found Wes very plausible as a character, as a rescuer he is less useful at direct help and possibly more useful at eventually getting out of her way. While her journey was to discover just what she was capable of, his was to give people more credit and be a bit less selfish. You don’t have to be too patient for him to catch up with Rain, but he can be a bit dense and starts from a very unfortunate place- by the time he realizes what he’s got he’s dug himself into quite the hole. And don’t worry, their happily ever after is also addresses their relationship challenges in a very satisfying way.

TL;DR

If a pumpkin spice latte was a femdom romance, this would be it. Small town, fall, autism rep and a heroine taking charge in the bedroom while she learns to take charge of her life outside it.

Kinky? You May Be On The Asexual Spectrum.

Kinky? You may be on the asexual spectrum.

This is not the first time I have written about this, nor do I expect it to be the last. This time the trigger was participating in a podcast about sexuality and realizing that though I had written about the kink/asexual spectrum connection a bunch, I haven’t really explained why the two are complimentary in a rigorous enough sense. I also wanted to do some sort of typed up summary of another phenomena, where after talking about asexuality or how it works I find a lot of folks, kinksters in particular, find the definition surprisingly resonates with them.

Needless to say, this got long.

Explaining asexuality always is posited on needing to explain how sex works in a broader, global sense. As I have written in other blog posts, most folks tend to define asexuality in a very rigid binary, imagining a person with no erotic desire or inclination. This can be part of being asexual, but it really isn’t the only part.

Attraction (that’s inspired erotic desire for another person) is not the same thing as arousal. The core of asexual identity presumes not so much whether or not you are capable of arousal, but how you experience attraction.

The problem with telling people this is that asexuality hides in plain sight. For example, homosexuality tends to stand out because the behavior associated: attempting to get into relationships or have sex with people in a way that breaks normative social barriers, not having sex is the baseline human state. Likewise, being immersed in stuff that could or could not be interpreted sexually (e.g. artistic nudes, music about really, really wanting someone else in a body responsive way) is the background radiation of human cultural existence. And, having sex with people you are in no way attracted to is so common as to not be considered remarkable. It’s generally regarded as unfortunate, but some of the most conservative societies can be very into compulsory sex done out of a sense of duty rather than inherent horniness.

So, if you go around not being into what your society (or subculture) generally identifies as ok to be sexy, as long as you are willing to perform the behaviors associated with your social role your internal thoughts on the matter are going to be treated as trivial or specific to you. The folks who absolutely won’t or can’t cooperate with the expected behaviours are treated like a pitiable minority, either eccentrics, shirkers or people with a medical issue, be it physical or psychological.

You, reader, who is probably a more sensitive soul, almost certainly adopts the position that nobody should be compelled to fuck anyone. You probably feel incredibly sympathetic – someone should help those poor people not do sex! And, you are generally able to accept these people fit the label of Asexual. Otherwise, if you think about this at all, you generally only do so in the context of biology, where some living things clone themselves.

Here’s the current assumptions around how the typical way people are sexually wired work: 

Humans are expected to default to being attracted to a fair number of whatever the gender(s) they are into. They are expected to be this way sans anything other than that person existing and them being aware of that fact, or maybe getting a good look at certain bits of them or the whole body. That’s being allosexual, the opposite of asexual

Then there’s anyone who fits the following: they experience attraction like this not at all, sporadically or require some additional factor. These people are all on the asexual spectrum.

AllosexualAttracted to people reliably without other modifiers other than being whatever gender(s) matter to you and some influence of taste.
AsexualAttraction to others is absent, sporadic, rare or requires some other factor, such as an intimate connection.

When you say that, a large number of people cross their eyes and look bewildered. 

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Femdom Review “Pawn of the Cruel Princess” by Rebecca F. Kenney

“Pawn of the Cruel Princess” by Rebecca F. Kenney is a dark romance aiming for the trope of enemies to lovers. It’s got an ostensible femdom premise (male war captive of female royalty) but a decidedly switchy tone. Like many works trying to focus on sexual slavery while also trying to keep the characters likable, it relies heavily on external pressures pushing the couple together and forcing the female lead, Ruelle, into a more carnal dynamic with Ducayne. 

There is a plot here, as well, with shades of Gideon the Ninth. After our main characters’ introduction and torture room meet cute, we learn the flower of the youthful nobility (and their pleasure thralls) must congregate in one isolated place to party. Once at the resort, bad things must be grappled with and whodoneit mystery is presented. Ruelle brings enemy captain Ducayne to spite her Crown Princess sister, but also because she is attempting to politic her way into her own survival when her wicked sister eventually ascends the throne. Despite having virtually no time to train Ducayne, with the help of a magic tattoo and some negotiation, Ruelle secures his cooperation to at least vaguely attempt to pass as her submissive thrall.

The sister and the family dynamic here is extravagantly abusive. The society, for their part, is hypersexual with a great deal of focus on the owning and training of their thralls. This appears to be a common practice on the island shared by both Ruelle and Ducayne’s respective nations. Our framing device for why any of this needs explaining is that Ruelle is a virgin who has yet to cooperate with debauchery expected of a noble. 

Ducayne, for his part, instantly decides he doesn’t care about the side of a war he is on, but maintains an intense quantity of pride and belief in his own right to autonomy. He is also spends a lot of time thinking about the bad relationship he has with his mother. 

Both characters speculate they are kinky thanks to abuse from their parents. Much hay is made of the heroine’s inherent masochism, something that she is deeply uncomfortable with. The hero is forever pinning her against things and making threats. In this society, being aroused by bottoming is apparently shameful, and both characters grapple with discomfort that they are aroused by it, Ruelle more so than her thrall. There is something here about space for switches and lovers of primal, but if you are turned off by the sub manhandling the dominant and at least one scene of pretty much flat out non-con with another man for Ruelle, you might be annoyed.

I know this is a hot button issue for a lot of femdoms that even in fiction we don’t get to avoid being disempowered,, not to mention the external pressure that we are just feisty subs who will eventually be taught better. If anything that could even hint of that is triggering, you might want to skip this one.

On the other hand, for all of Ducayne’s bluster, his growing feelings for Ruelle quickly come to form an ongoing basis for his willing cooperation with his own subjugation, and he’s clearly aroused by being sliced up, verbally abused and manhandled by Ruelle. There’s more turbo brat here than full dominant from him, and his own violence towards Ruelle rapidly starts to resemble a sort of service topping. Ruelle is incredibly erotophobic and Ducayne’s role is to largely safely confront her with her own desire in a way that she can eventually accept. Inversely Ducayne shifts from being horny-for-his-enemy to deciding that she’s almost as much a prisoner as him and assuming a role of rescuer.

Also expect interludes with all the background characters, who are of every possible orientation. There will even be a sort of light love triangle with potential for a thruple explored, but this book isn’t aiming to be menage, just keeping most of the focus on kinky sex, more kinky sex and rather intense violence.

To its credit, when we get to the ending, while all romances must have a happily ever after (HEA), we also don’t get the sense this pair will transform to vanilla. They will probably remain stabby and primal, but ultimately the hero decides to accept something that keeps him subjugated to the heroine.

TL;DR

Domme-to-switch non-con with a brat and a very violent, gory plot. A lot of stabbing and slicing from the heroine. I found it perfectly readable, but the emphasis on the heroine’s masochism still needs flagging.