Bad Girls Blogger Award

Victoria Vista over at Sexual Destinies recently gave me a hat tip in the form of the blogger chosen “Bad Girl Bloggers” award.

She put me in the company of Remittance Girl and Rori- pretty epic comparisons if you ask me! Of course trying to choose my favorite blogger is going to be impossible, since you’re all pretty wonderful, so I thought I’d give a bump to four other bloggers who are genuinely daring (and why).

Ferns of Domme Chronicles, for herwillingness to share one of the hardest things about this femdom thing- the vulnerability of our own desire. Also Ferns is a bit of a web celebrity in femdom circles.

Dumb Domme of the same, for her relatively unsung efforts to make it clear anyone can hack this kinky thing.

Not Just Bitchy, published but Stabbity, for not being afraid to tell it like it is in honest language.

Perverse Cowgirl for being insightful for sharing the highs and the lows of her life.


RULES: If you are a recipient, please choose 3-5 female bloggers who write about sex (or post sexy pics of themselves, or both) that you admire and award them by passing on the award photo above and the rules. Also, give a brief explanation of why you love those bloggers so much. Be sure to notify your favorite bloggers that they got the award!

(I personally am chain-post agnostic- but I like all the people who I’m pimping)

Now, that being said, sex blogging is a female dominated field- so I’d love it if people shared their favourite bloggers of both genders in the comments- and that includes your own blog too!

Witches, Snuff Play, Halloween Sex

smashedpumpkinsIt’s November now, which for a Canadian is a month of nothing (our Thanksgiving was last month) and a lot of nostalgia for October. This year, Halloween night meant a private party hosted at chez moi, with select guests of a very particular nature. Kinky and fun – everything you could want. Also I made banana bread AND german apple cakes.

Of course I have a strange feeling you’re not reading this to learn about my culinary offerings, so let’s talk about the party and how it came to involve quite the spooky, sexy success…

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Femdom Review: Lance Hart

19Ridiculously conventionally attractive guy decides to take on the abysmal nature of current femdom porn and make his own videos? Yes please! His stage name is Lance Hart, and if you haven’t heard about him, you probably should.

As well as femdom, he also is trying to do something better about the quality of FM/m cuckold porn. A surprising odd facet of the industry- its actually apparently very hard to get a lot of actors who will do gay and straight male roles. his other specialties- M/m (for you women who love to see two dudes at the same time), ball busting and spandex. And you’d think the last part would be weird but he’d been pretty creative with a bunch of superhero spoof videos.

lancefacepicAs a producer and actor, Lance is working his butt off on his own personal corner of the fetish world. Although he’s simply phenomenal looking (I mean jesus, dat bone structure), he’s also putting his money where his mouth is and rather than complaining about porn with male subs depicted as unworthy and unwanted, everything I’ve seen him in completely acknowledges you could actually prefer male submission.

I had the good fortune to get some review copies of his videos, and then like a giant flake, dropped off the map.  So here’s my chance to try to make it up to everyone and give a sincere review of the stuff he’s producing for one of his projects: Sweet Femdom.

Here’s the scoop on his self produced malesub/femdom work:

What he gets right– Videos depict sub guys as inherently desirable and the focus of sexual attention. Amusing ideas that put female dominants in a role with more agency than just being irate. I find it easy to project myself into the actresses in his vision. and how often do I get to say that?

What didn’t work for me– Try as I might, many of the scenarios lacked a little bit of chemistry or tended to veer into too absurd. For example I liked the idea in one of his sample videos of a woman who hires a stripper to take advantage of- turning what was supposed to be a sexy dance into wicked abuse. One the other hand the mood ended up being good natured confusion “Oh, you want to kick me in the balls repeatedly instead? Oooookay!” thus losing the forced elemen. While Lance Hart’s body is made for still photography, he’s still testing the waters for the right mood in motion- looks super vulnerable in stills, tends to look mildly flabbergasted when acting in his own stuff.

Nonetheless, I’d be interested to see what he is producing in another couple of years- there’s some raw talent these I hope gets nurtured. He definitely deserves a break and I’d totally put him on the list of people to follow with enthusiasm. Also does a very good job making use of his talents- so check out their work with him- guy’s got a very expressive face- when he’s on a roll with the acting he’s fun as well as hot.

So without further ado:

Twitter: @lancehartfetish
Instagram: Candid shots and stills.
His Work With Kink.Com: Their direction with him is fabulous.
Gofundme (He’s working on improving his videos): fetish film fund

“Don’t Make Me Come!” AKA Forced Orgasms

slavestatueSo Wildcard and I continue our happy domestic little nest of kinky libertines together.

Recently Wildcard had a mild fuck up while we were playing that left me slightly pouty. This being conduct unbecoming of a Gentleman Nemesis, a forfeit was in order. And I picked a favourite of mine. Endless edging, for a week. Every night, until he literally is begging and pleading for me to stop and he worries for the structural integrity of his cock he gets teased. And used. And teased some more. And I don’t “let” him come, I force him to, in big shudder-y orgasms that leave him convulsing and weak.

It’s so bad he’s coined the term ‘orange balls’ for the opposite of sexual frustration. But there’s a dirty little trick I have hidden up my sleeve.

You see, Wildcard loves non-con. He’s not the sort of guy you degrade and reject. I’ve made no secret he’s a decorative- my sex slave not my domestic help (or my wimpy source of income like a weird porn cliche). So as long as he has no choice I can make him get horny. He has no control- I can use him how I see fit.

Of course you know limits and safewords and yadda, yadda. We take care of all that mutual loving respect stuff just dandy. And then… he’s a toy I get to torment on my terms. And I adore seeing him come as much as I like edging him. So he begs. And he pleads “Please don’t make me come! Stop! Stop!” and sometimes I just don’t listen.

Sometimes I use him with my cunt, forcing him rock hard- he’s always a bit to big for me- even when I’m wet onto my thighs it’s a tight squeeze. But I like it that way and I like how he simply can’t control himself inside me. Sometimes I use my mouth, letting my tongue and nerve rich lips enjoy him while he has to keep his arms out of the way and all he can do is plead.

But much of the time my hand ends up around his cock. Sometimes still slippery from my mouth, sometimes slicked with a palm full of sweet almond oil, so I can make it last.

The head of his cock gets so tender, even touching it makes him gasp. And night after night for the last week I play, sometimes taking my hand away at just the right moment while he struggles to compose himself and his cock pulses- often he’s tough and fights for control, the first few times just getting to the edge. But I don’t just use my mouth to suck and lick. All those dirty thoughts and fantasies you guys enjoy reading come out, coaxing him into squirting all over his thighs with my words alone.

And sometimes, when he’s finally too sensitive to take much more, I bear down and I squeeze with my hand, forcing a real orgasm out of him, even as he pleads for it to stop.

He thinks one of these nights I’m going to milk him so much he comes dust.

Friday Femdom Fiction: She Tells Him The Terms of Surrender

You want to belong to me, don’t you?

You want that sensation of connectedness- you know I’m lovely, beautiful- I light up the room when I enter it. You’ve seen me naked, moon pale, lips and cunt slashes of petal pink. You’ve seen me in tight black, perched atop spike heels, wide hips swaying.

You’ve seen me look over my shoulder at you, belly down on the bed, your borrowed t-shirt not quite reaching to the full swell of my ass, draping loose around my little body. You’ve touched me. Tasted me, been inside me. Nobody knows my body better than you now, other than me.

Now you get to see me come through the door every day, get to press your face into my lap whenever you need a pick me up with my warmth and female scent.  You’re hooked.

But you know you could never, never own me. You’re afraid of that, afraid of watching my perfect ass for the last time as I leave for work. Afraid of how I make you feel, all weak inside, because you crave me in a way that borders on a real addiction.

We both know if you wanted you could wall yourself up. Go all tough guy and cold, cut of your nose and spite your face and walk away yourself. But you don’t want to. You want to make me stay. I make you force yourself to tell me all your dirty little secrets and tender places.

You want to wake up to feeling my hand on your cock, to fall asleep next to my warm body wriggling in under your arm, the little yelp and pout as you tweak one erect nipple though my tank top. You want to feel my tongue on your balls, lips around, nibbling, nuzzling.

You want to feel my hand on your throat, the cuffs on your wrists, spreading out splayed on the bed. You want to feel my cunt eat every inch of you as I straddle your lap. You want me to force you to meet my eyes, even as you try to look away.

It’s something I know you crave. You want to be vulnerable to me, kneel for me, take pain for me. You know nobody else is capriciously loving and cruel, can make you hurt with a smile and then kiss you like she means it.

We’ve been playing these little games for a long time, haven’t we? Every time the stakes get a little higher. Remember the first game I made you play where you traded one hard spank to get to kiss my breasts?

Or remember the day I told you I loved you? You were sitting tender for a week, but you got lured in when I told you I had a secret and then you just had to beg to know.

But this game is bigger than that, and it’s got a forfeit. What are you going to give to have me for keeps?

You know the answer- there’s a price to pay for your pleasure. You have to submit to me. Completely.

Three BDSM Collars for Two Men

BDSM collars with leash custom made collarI’ve given two people collars in my life, both times not at a real symbol of forever, but as a symbol of something transient.

One was blue, and made of a pretty braided loop, the other one was a deep brown leather and studded all over. The last one isn’t really a BDSM collar in the sense most people would think of, even if it goes around the neck.

There were other games of course, with that black dollarstore dog collar that it seems like every teenage goth had in the early 2000s as a fashion accessory. But that was a toy with nothing attached other than fun.

For An Experienced Submissive

I gave the first one to a man who was a submissive mentor or sorts- while we were not compatible for a long term thing, he opened a lot of possibilities for me and was very patient with a naive new femdom. That was a parting gift, ordered at a leather and kink shop in Montreal and snuck into his hotel room with a plate of homemade cakes. I picked the colour and design because he was Swedish, and bound to return home across the Atlantic, and because he wasn’t a hard, harsh person.

I don’t know, in the end, if he kept it. We mostly lost touch and it’s not important, because the relationship is going to symbolize different things for him. He left behind a scarf and a few letters that are well hidden away, just about forgotten for me- I think more about the positive impact that it had on my confidence, more than anything else. That collar was almost like an attempt to lock all the good memories of the time we had together into the narrow confines of its loop.

For Hope And a New Submissive

The second one was a Christmas gift for Wildcard. We were still so new that it was not even official, and I knew that these things might not last, and that it was too early for any smart person to answer anything other than “maybe”. And I didn’t want anything more than that, then, but I wanted to give him something that was about possibilities.

A leather working friend made me that collar- and I gave it to him with a big pile of little mundane vanilla gifts, shyly telling him it was a play collar. It actually took two incarnations to get it right- the first, of vegan leather, was a little too stiff, but the second is still around. I picked  brown because it was a colour he wore a lot, and asked for it to be masculine but not butch, set with a heavy duty fastener in the front to weigh it so the buckle sat in the back and I could still attach a leash.

At the time, I down played it, shy he’d take it as crazy talk, like some sort of overly attached girlfriend. I must have down played it too much, because Wildcard, a switch and a brat, reacted to the gift by declaring that hey, he could try it on me!

I gave a strong reaction, flustered, insisting that NO! It was for him! And it’s come out to play several times since then, but mostly it lives in a bag under the bed with all the other toys. He doesn’t think about it or its implications, which is not something that bothered me- it makes me smile and it was a good stepping stone for working out what we wanted.

The Collar That Is Not Quite Your Usual BDSM Collar

And then there is the third collar I make myself. Pulled out of the sewing box, bright, thick satiny ribbon to go about his neck, we use that regularly, and I tie it in place, telling him that this means he’s a pet, and pets don’t get to feel guilty. I like to look after my submissives more so than to receive service by default. When we play, and connect, it’s about bridging that barrier we keep up, between ourselves and the world.

Kink is about opening up, as much as it is about playfulness. This will never be serious business for me- BDSM collars can be sentimental, but valuable in the way I stole and wear one of Wildcard’s sweaters. But there’s a vulnerability even in the silliness and the banality of real life because it’s basically letting yourself be a sort of real you don’t share with most people.

I don’t know if a ribbon will always be the collar we default to. Maybe someday I’ll order him a replacement from a craft working friend again. Maybe I’ll take up awl and leather and make him one myself, or beads, or maybe never. But each collar has in turn served its purpose.

While there’s a lot of snark about velcro relationships- slave today, free tomorrow, I think that a BDSM collar doesn’t have to be forever to serve its purpose. They just have to work in the moment.