God Damn It Breasts!

Angry little tits...

Lately I haven’t been impressed with my endowments.

My tits generally behave with the same maddening ability not to give a fuck that characterizes the rest of my obviously female bits. They’re like the roommate who is forever yo-yo dieting while you carry on in your balanced way.

Sometimes their big, sometimes they’re small. If I’m on hormonal birth control they are usually big-ish compared to non-pill size, but still vary in that range. If I ever have babies for real, instead of synthetic simulated pregnancies, I expect to join team D cup for more than a day or two. In fact, there’s so much cup variance in a given month, that the next person who tells me in glowing tones to get a bra fitting will be strangled to death with one.

I mean, I like my breasts. They don’t even take any sort of acceptance of unconventional beauty. They seem to think that pointing straight forward is a good idea, and I have just enough nipple not to be insecure. they’re a really pretty pale colour. But they do mean needing to own bras in several sizes, because I range from being able to slip a finger into the cup, to spilling out in that cheap stripper trick to look bustier. I also cope with padded bras, not to look insecure, but for a slightly better fit in my clothes.

I’m also broad shouldered, for a woman, which means they’re wide set. Forget just finding a band size that fits and my official letter, instread there’s all sorts of cup placement fussiness. and, TMI time, did I mention the small amounts of proto-lactation? Perfectly normal, and I think I take after my mother, who after three kids, lactated up until menopause. But, I’m pretty sure given the bizarre behaviour, thus far, if I reproduce also I’m gonna be one of nature’s milk cows. Or they’ll shrink down to As and go as dry as the Sahara, just to prove they are free spirited and unpredictable.

Despite tit problems, they’re also fairly durable and perky- while I’m not a big fan of someone trying to twist and remove my nipples, I really appreciate, during sex, having them compressed, wrung, slapped and squished until the skin blooms with a misting of little red dots, provided it’s from the base and on the meat (err, fat) of the breast. Although, although bondage fans have tried, they slip out of  rope like bloody Houdini. And, grow or shrink, they bounce back without the sort of concerns that seem to dog weight loss. My breasts are thus far immortal.

And, hormonal birth control has one other thing going for it- they are now co-ordinated properly. Basically everyone with breasts has one that’s a bit bigger- humans are not symmetrical and right handed people tend to have slightly bigger pecs on that side. But remember how I talked about them going up and down in size like some sort of squeezey toy? Well, they used to do that on only one side too. It looked something like this:

oO

Where’s your God now, bra fitting evangelists?! 

Hot/Cool Fictional Male “Subs”: Fenris

Male subs and popular fiction generally have an awkward relationship. Although it’s now acceptable for the hero to end up in handcuffs for hanky-panky (though it’s aways the lady’s idea, to show off that she’s sexually fierce), there just isn’t really good options for an explictly male sub unless he’s a punchline.

But a lot of D/s doesn’t call itself explicitly kinky. It hides in plain site. Just like Catwoman wasn’t literally a dom until Frank Miller got his hands on her, these fictional representations are can even end up informing archetypes and breeding new approaches to kink. The male characters I’m going to talk about here might not be your ideal submissive. They’re not even necessarily characters that get me going, but they’re all guys you’re supposed to regard positively.

Fenris: Pandering To Geeky Femdoms

Fenris according to his corporate picture.First, a tiny bit of background:

Dragon Age is an RPG franchise belonging to Bioware. Thanks to a focus on character interactions and a willingness to pander to everyone, they (and Mass Effect) are particularly beloved among the female half of the gamer population. DA2, part of the series, broke ground both with a heavy effort to push the option for gay/lesbian romances (as well as not making it required, the hero can be asexual if you like) and served up a brooding elvish slave boy for people into heterosexual relationships to drool over..

He’s faye and pretty. He’s got badass tattoos and badass battle skills (and a bit of a bad attitude), but deep inside he’s damaged, wounded and his slave experience is a big part of his sub-plot, while reconciling with that is what he needs for character development. Although the game itself is not as well regarded as some of the other titles in the series, Fenris+femaleProtagonist is popular and as richly fleshed out as the other romance options.

That's the protagonist

(That’s her on top there “LadyHawke”)

Of course it’s Bioware, so everything is in animated barbie-and-ken RPG dollies for actual game footage:

You can also run this scene with him being more fighty and shoving you before you shove him and dissolve into PG-sexy times. I’d also characterize the romance here as something you need to pursue- unlike some of the other characters, this is one where it’s female initiating on male.

The result has meant an outpouring of fan art… Note, most of the stuff is being drawn by women. We like this shit. Attention boys who want to be taken seriously and be seen as masculine and be nurtured, protected and cuddled… and tortured…

Fan art, orgin unknownYou need to give him love!
Subtext- the red thing is the

…there are horny women who really, really want this. For me, with my huge nurturing streak, this one works for me so well I’m embarrassed. I’ve as yet resisted writing bad Fenris fanfic, but I know that I can’t be that unique in my sexuality given what’s out there.

But other than talking about things that get me flushed and flustered, I think another thing that makes these things very worth examining is how they can help us talk about the relationship dynamics we find sexy in a way that doesn’t have quite the same harmful baggage.

What’s your favourite fictional male sub or sub like character?

What Does This Femdom Do With Her Time When She’s Not Dominating?

No matter how many hours of a day you want to devote to BDSM scenes, there comes a time when you probably need to go do other things like groceries and paying the electric bill or bathing. I mean, perhaps some of you shower dominantly, I honestly don’t know. However, for me, 99% of the time I think life is indistinguishable from anyone who IDs as vanilla.

I’m a bit of a home body. Lately, my time’s been spend on little projects like re-learning CSS and brushing up on some languages. I’d like to say that I spend my time with a finger on the pulse of the kink world, but actually I’m more likely to spend time on Code Academy or Duo Lingo than Kink.com or Fetlife.

I also spend time doing catch up housework. A lot. It’s not that I like doing housework, it’s just that I tend to neglect things until they urgently need taking care of. And I’m not exactly the most organized of people, so only the most simple organizational systems get any sort of useful result. As this is being written I’m getting myself out of dishes debt, one dish drainer full at a time and getting caught up on the laundry.

And yet, I’m not a complete disaster on the domestic front. The other mid-blog interruption is preparing a whole roast chicken alongside and oven tray of lemon-savoury vegetables- that’s onion, carrot, button mushroom and potato prepared with savoury and lemon zest (as well as a drizzle of sunflower oil). Somewhere in the six months after leaving home in my early twenties I developed from rudimentary ability to put edible things in front of other people, to the ability to turn random ingredients into something satisfying.

Of course I have other little projects. The visual art bug hasn’t bitten in a while, but it’s not atypical for me to go through a torrent of doodling and sketching, and then chuck the sketchbook when I’m done. And there’s a half dozen novels- there’s Catamite, which you can read here, and other things less erotically focused. And way more time than I should in internet slap fights, bastions of free and unhindered speech where the watchword runs- I disagree with what you have to say, and I think you should be put to death for saying it.

I round that out by being painfully and unabashedly nerdy. From running around in minecraft to LARPing, I’m past shame about this. It’s fun, and it’s as much a part of my heritage as other families who gather together for a Big Game or go to church every Sunday. My parents met each other, and their respective spouses, through the SCA.

It’s banal, but it’s important because that’s what I decided to invest the bulk of my finite life in. And to be honest, those parts are more the longevity and attraction predictors, more so than mere kinkiness, for finding partners.

So what is the other 23 hours of the day, for you, when it’s not about sex?

Why I Write a Femdom Blog

I’d really like to thank femdom resources, for deciding to add me to the blogger list. I really appreciate being part of the archive of resources in their collection, and I hope readers find me helpful, or if not helpful, entertaining.

OMissPearl exists, hopefully, not just as a platform for self aggrandizement (although there’s lots of that), but also simply to be another voice. In what was very few years ago, I remember when Bitchy Jones seemed to be the only voice out there, and Dan Savage was still telling novice doms how lucky they were they could go pro, and to look to advertising for porn that spoke to us. Her brilliant bitterness was really inspirational to me.

At 27, I’m finally old enough to start speaking retrospectively, although if it comes out awkward, blame lack of experience. At least, I’ve stopped being “smart for my age”, which I’d like to think happened due to an increase in age not a drop in smart. 😛

When I started this blog, I was also inspired by trying to put my porn out there after reading Little Submissions. At the moment the rant-to-erotica ratio has somewhat pushed these projects off the radar, but I’d have to say that I really appreciate your patience.

These days, what I have is both planted firmly on the shoulders of giants, and surrounded by taller giants still. Which is a sort of odd mental image, I suppose, and makes the whole thing sound like a mosh pit our of Jack and the Beanstalk.

Anyway I’d like to thank my readers, old and new. We passes 10K visits this year about two days ago, which for me, is probably the most attention a project of mine has ever gotten in a measurable, consistent way. There’s a few projects that are in the pipeline:

1) Reviews, when I can sound a bit more positive about the creative work of others

2) More direct commentary on scene and kink stuff that needs to be talked about.

On the latter point, I’m putting a shout out for content requests. What are things that you think aren’t getting enough love in the BDSM scene? In kink outside the scene?

My Buttplug Is Dented!

Once in a while I get the urge to shove things up my ass. Only I’m next door to virginal with this, so that means small, carefully selected toys. And since the urge only strikes when I’m really, really horny (in this case a reaction to stress alongside breaking out and stopping eating), normally they live in a bland as hell cardboard box.

So I’d reached that point in a post shower masturbation session where my hair was making a puddle in the pillow while my fingers were making a puddle between my legs, when there was the itch to do it.

A while ago I bought an anal starter kit. It was the worst shade of lurid, Pepto Bismo pink, and on a steep discount over at pinkcherry.ca. But, Doc Johnson signed off on this, and since $20 is not a bad price to pay for a bunch of things I can’t see anyway…

So I’m deciding among my options: I have the condom to go over the buttplug (hygiene), the off brand KY, and go rummaging in the box for the “big” one. Lest you think I’m a size queen, that’s about the girth of penis at its widest point and that’s too much for me.

Only it’s not exactly smooth anymore. It’s gone all ripply. Like there’s a pinch, or a crease or a big dent. Well… it was $20 for a set. Looks like being stored horizontally was too much for the structural integrity and the soft core squished. So there I was, really horny, stymied by my own cheapness.

Don’t worry, anal explorations were not hampered by Mr. Dimple. 😛

Hair Raising Yahoo BDSM Articles

Yahoo, you're scaring me...Yahoo is alarming me today.

So as part of my mandate for this blog, I want to try to provide people with somewhat sane kink resources. I’ve been feeling pretty chuffed, and sometimes a bit outclassed lately by all the great advice that’s out there. But then I decided, for the purpose of a post I was putting together to go back to the basics and do a google search or two for information. What, after all, would a complete novice, who wasn’t neck deep in blogs and online groups find?

I googled “being the best submissive” because that was what I was looking for for the post I was writing.

Apparently, as part of the “Lifestyles” web content mandate they have, Yahoo has random contributor written BDSM advice articles cheerfully packed in next to Recycling and Food & Wine. I suppose this is not surprising, as BDSM is hardly anything alarming. It’s presented as basic instructions, often with titles like BDSM 101. So, it’s sex and relationship discussions for normal healthy couples, right?

Let’s check out some of their advice…

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Cum

Cum tastes kinda like baking soda.

Sorry, that’s the non-erotic truth. Porn (especially cartoons, which have a lot of artistic licence)  generally go in for creamy, squirted cum shots like it had the consistency of slightly diluted dish soap, a couple of gallons at a time… Often it is things like soap when you see it in real person porn, and actors speak ruefully of getting a mouthful of Cetaphil more often than they’d like. Real life? Not so much.

I like semen. On me, on him.

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Horny Women: Turning Me, and Females (Animals and People) On

With various corners of the internet talking about a book that just came out “What Do Women Want?: Adventures in the Science of Female Desire”, and the accompanying media articles, I suppose it’s topical to discuss my own relationship with the subject.

Thanks to Puritanical morals, human sex research has been greatly hampered. From the only recently formally discovered “internal clitoris” (circa 2009!) to decades upon decades of fucked up animal sex research because we assumed that certain human social models apply to the animal kingdom as the biological gold standard. As well as it not being polite to talk about all the gay animals until very recently, one of the things that’s getting talked about is female desire.

So… what do I think about my own sexual desire, as a woman?

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FemDom On a Work Morning

Space invaders, winter of 2012, I'll be sad when it breaks.

thedrunkenmoogle.com

Morning. Wake up at 5:00 AM, flail a bit for my phone and check the time. Be not quite sure why I woke up that early, go back to sleep. Feel all fuzzy at 6:00 AM when I was supposed to wake up. Sort of flail around and semi doze for 45 minutes against my better judgement. Poke the sub, put the kettle on. Salted Caramel black tea in my Space Invaders mug (see image). Random internetings.

Look glumly at perpetual mess in the kitchen, make mental note to take trash out to avoid smells from Atlantic salmon steak last night. Decide to at least make mess a little better and empty sink for easier dish washing. What to pack for Lunch? Salad? With ham? Sandwich?  Clean inside of sink, wash a knife. Breakfast is at work, there’s still bagels left from the ones I bought yesterday. Salad-with-ham, also chopped fennel, pickled turnip, baby romaine lettuce, small cuke. Time to get groceries after work. Ham? Why not! Make a mustard based dressing. Put tupperware in platic bag to avoid bathing the inside of my purse in homemade mustard dressing. Because the sink is empty, wash all lunch related dishes. Pat self on back, put lunch in purse. Have forgotten this step more times than I’m comfortable admitting.

Sip tea pensively while looking for what to wear to work. Weather promises to be cool and rainy, meeting with boss today. am angling for a raise, need to look competent but knid of cuddly because this is marketing. Corporate manic pixie dream girl ahoy! Uhgh. Body is transitioning back down from progesterone peak (it’s the placebo week on birth control, whee) and I’m no longer a puffy Dom, just a spotty one. Black tights, over not so nice undies (reason implied) in last sentence. Okay, skirt day. Polkadot matron dress? Too formal. White blouse over new white bra, layer with plaid dress pinafore style. Workable.  Brush hair. Earrings are already in ears, pearl studs. Wet weather means freshly redyed (hides grey) hair has plenty of body but lots of poof. Debate buzzing my hair, non seriously. Wish sub a good day, hop off to work.

Windows to the Soul

If you can't say it with words, say it with memes!I feel happy when I can take care of stuff by myself. So I went out and fetched myself a ladder from the hardware store so I could safely change a lightbulb or two. Because I am short and have poor balance (my Mummy says I’m top heavy ‘cuz of all the brains), I reasoned that I needed more than the stepladder everyone was telling me to pick up. Quite correct, I did *not* want to be the posthumous punchline in a joke about how many dominants it took to change a lightbulb or rely further on tall friends.

My apartment, though lovely, have very little natural light. Think living in the bottom of a lightwell or a basement. It’s got excellent privacy, but this gets dark at times. One other draw back about my wonderful life I feel embarrassed to talk about is the window problem…

Or rather the people on the other side of the window problem.

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