My Take on Cuckolding Fantasies

Cuckolding fantasies are more than just cuck focused“So multiple people offered to throw in cash to get me to go to this event at $nerdhobby, I am so popular.” I’m not bragging, I’m surprised at my popularity and slightly bemused by the absurdity.

His reaction is to miss a beat, face going suspicious, “Oh really? Who?”

“The very gay $nerdhobbyguy, for one.” I know the implication, but I live with it and measure it accordingly. Boys offering you things is kind of par for the course as an extra level of social complexity to navigate. It sucks as an artist of any kind, because patronage is also how we wend our way, and nobody likes trying to suss out if you are trying to fuck me or support my writing. And I never apologize that men want me.

He’s not quite calm about it, not mad at me or displaying any sort of impolite or threatening anger, but outlined to me what it had always meant when he had offered to sponsor a girl, and then realizing that I might take offense either via implying I condoned really low wage sex work or was naive to the ways of the world, falls into repeatedly reassuring me that he trusts me.

Brick, you see, is a jealous man but not a controlling one. He’s liable to characterize it as “protective”, from the perspective that I need to be saved from all attention, pursuit and appreciation. On the other hand there’s a definite thread that we share a similar mean little desire to reject and trammel all over a guy. You’re never going to catch him as the forced bi bull shoving his cock down a would be rival’s throat, but there is a desire to emotionally and socially dominate other men (and in fantasy land probably beat the shit out of them) that pretty much occupies the same space a cuckolding fantasies do in the continuum of things men are socialized to have feelings about.

But, I like watching you fight them for me, even if I want you to win.

I am not one of those people who thinks that jealousy, or any feeling, in the abstract, is bad. I don’t think one’s feelings entitle you to automatically make the other party responsible for them, but I like the honesty and vulnerability in him getting possessive, the itchy fists and raised hackles. It’s hot. It makes me feel in control and turns me on. I enjoyed that Brick’s reaction was not compersion, that mainstay of the poly community, but murder.

I’m careful here, because this is a raw dynamic, which means that it’s his Real Feelings (TM) and could actually hurt him, so I’m not going to do anything to actually harm him or manipulate him. But I like that the script is there. I like the idea of using him as a tool of my sadism and dominance. I think he would get worn out and stressed if he thought that other men were constantly testing the boundaries of his relationship in a way that imperiled him, but I’m still going to enjoy it when it accidentally falls in my lap. And I have more thoughts on that… Read more

And Some Things Still Suck

A good part of my life remains not about the sex, and with my decreased involvement in the BDSM community proper is leaves me flailing about a bit for where I stand on stuff. With Brick it’s something incredibly new, and hilariously, driven by my libido being several magnitudes over his (honeymoon phase he says. Ha. Nooooo this is who I am and that’s with a mild dose of SSRIs and their dampening effect.) But not all is sexy.

So, the family shit.

I am wrestling with my brother having landed in Montreal, sans means of support and in full psychiatric crisis mode.  It’s not easy. Without my guidance he basically flops out unable to even get basic social services, with very little drive to look after himself. By setting hard boundaries I’ve avoided falling into enabling him to just keep up the non-functional life of hiding in a corner on the internet, but in cramped quarters. I’m worried about him being homeless but he is not keeping his agreements with other people regarding couch surfing, so the instant I let him stay with me he will never, ever leave.

The problem is that getting help is a full time job, and he is either too sick or too unwilling to put the effort in to do that, so being destitute is too difficult for him. I can help him with little nibbles, but I can’t really take on supporting a full time adult, particularly one who isn’t going to respond well to me just taking charge. I keep watching other people try to help him via teaching him how to adult and it is very frustrating to try to explain that the fundamental issue here is not that he doesn’t know how cooking works, it’s that he doesn’t have any motivation to do anything.

Brick, very sweet, keeps trying to explain dysthymia to me. He knows what he is talking about (although I do too) but he comforts via giving grounding blocks of information. But it’s a bit more than just blob-mode.

Last night I had to tell my brother that I can’t just keep giving him spontaneous grocery money, that the next level of help I had was a bus back to the Maritimes. With our awful family. But then he wouldn’t be homeless or starving.  Because there really isn’t much in the way of stopgap measures and he keeps telling the social workers he is doing better than he actually is. And even when he is honest there really isn’t much in the way of support for basically anything short of vegetable or dementia case.

I’m trying to be an upright, functional adult myself and it is soul rippingly painful to admit I can’t help my brother. I keep going back to the idea that maybe if I give up everything remotely luxurious we can make a life of it on ramen, with him on a futon on my office floor and it is a really bad idea. He already tried to move in and perma live on my couch back when I was with Wildcard.

Christ, I cannot get away from people expecting me to take charge of them while giving me no cooperation.

I pulled out of the BDSM community because it was watching my partner chase everything but me, or policing people who had, on the balance, no interest in anything but minimal efforts to stop sexual assault and harassment.  My nerdy community is doing the exact same shit and I am very much getting impatient with the local people being non-stop sources of ridiculous interpersonal sillies.

There’s a kind of twisted mirror here about femdom. I have a friend, lets call her Miss Ruffles, a sub. I know her through nerdy stuff, but the overlap between kink and nerd means that the Venn diagram s almost a perfect circle. She’s one of the few people I have met who intuitively knows how to hook into being supportive to someone else in a way that affirms someone’s leadership, without having to think about it.

But for most people, that knack doesn’t come naturally, just like most people hate and feel stressed out by managing. Most power exchange is bedroom only partially because it’s really, really hard to sustain any sort of non-sexual power.

I generally try to keep a distinction between my sexual/emotional kinks and my leadership, but I can see some parallels to a lot of the frustrations doms of any gender have in trying to sustain dynamics with any other leadership role I have had.

So yeah, things are not easy right now.

I think, although I am largely happy, what I need is to be pissed off at people who keep poking me to parent them and absolutely heart broken about my brother.

Honestly, I Need To Get Fucked

Fuck me.I need you to fuck me in a way that makes me want to shred your skin and bruise you. I want to see you vulnerable and helpless and there’s the ache and the little niggling tinge of fear for me because to want something is to let yourself be open to the possibility of not having it.

I want to be able to just take you. And to make you perform for me. I want to lure you in, to learn where all your buttons are, so that I can push them at will. It’s a potent, heady feeling when I zip up my leather boots and you get that look. Your tongue touches your lip and your eyes go unfocused and very focused all at once. If I could bottle that feeling, of knowing I’ve hypnotized you, I would. I could get drunk off it.

You know how it felt, putting your belt over your neck?  Looking at that band of black, bisecting your throat, book-ended by my curled fists holding it to the mattress? Lust. But the confidence you have to marshal up to put yourself out there, that takes being brave on my part. Not much of a come down from no. So much shyness on my side as well as I made you try the new sensation. What if you hated it?

It makes me wet to think about you helpless, but I need your consent. No, fuck that. I need your enthusiastic consent.

Every boy wants a dominant woman, you learn that pretty early. The belief that she knows what she wants, that hint of aggression and violence is catnip even to guys who think they are vanilla. But there’s a trade off, boys get pretty fucking lazy about your sexuality. They’re used to porn and pros, where she’s only so dangerous , always offering a menu he can pick and chose from or a program, neatly planned.

It’s either all in on his perfect fantasy, whether that is locked cocks forever or serving as someone’s stud stallion; or reviewing a pro-dom’s website and ticking off the boxes: smother me with your ass, slap me about but hold the cross dressing. It’s not fake, per say, in that any pro-dom who can stay in business knows how to get in a man’s head. And I can’t fault porn for doing its job well.

You’re not like that. You want to make me happy. Sure you like it when I zip into leather and I’ve learned a few of your other buttons. I’m good at turning people on- a part of this blog is the knack I have. But, I’m the one with the weird fetishes. Who’s pretty much started to believe that most men want to want a dominant way more than they want to have her.

A million blog posts and are extant on sweet talking a missus into a mistress, and here I am, trying to figure out how to fit you into my sexuality with the same sort of gung ho enthusiasm I have trying to cram the entirety of your cock down my throat.  You’re too big to swallow but I want it and I get what I want. I’m going to work up to it.

We trade what we can over video and pictures. I tease you with a little pleather dress that cost me $22 at Forever21 (They’re having a grunge/goth revival, all the stuff that was in when I was in highschool). You send me snapshots of your hand wet with your cum, I debate prying a little into that- I’m almost disappointed when you finish yourself,  unseen and un-commented on because I want to tease you more. That moment just before you come is when I feel the most power.

I’ve gone claw the drapes crazy over you, but it doesn’t make me submissive. Doesn’t even box me back into vanilla, not that I’ve ever been there. So yeah, you said you want me. I told you the whole of the deal, how I want to hurt you and own you. I’m both complicated and easy going enough that it isn’t automatic slave contracts and collars, though sometimes I wonder if this would be easier if I just had an uncompromising menu instead of this crawl-into-your-head-and-control it thing the sexuality fairies gave me.

Oh god. I need your desire.  It’s the best thing, the drug I’m hooked on, filling you up with want, and draining it from you. I want you utterly helpless.

You know that moment when you are most attractive to me is moments before you come and you’re opened up and really feel it when I call you my slut? Sure the sex is good, feeling your body slam into mine, sure I scream because it feels amazing. When I come with you it’s this odd vulnerable makes me feel all small and sometimes you saw I cried a bit.

Because it’s hard to want something this much.  Not just your cock, although that’s plenty nice, but to have you.  And have you want the entirety of me, not as things you have to make concessions to, but are excited about.

It’s really scary. Also I really, really need to get fucked.

Fall Changes, Forward Motion and Endings

Fall leaves with quote: "My life is changing as the leaves outside my window shift their shade."Lately it’s been a life lived in a general state of desire I’ve missed. I’m happy to have my lust back, happy to crave and want and not feel completely undesired although I have once again screwed myself (and not in the good way) via setting my wants on someone out of easy reach for their regular use.

I’ve endeavored to sublimate that desire into productivity. My not so stable office gig finally tipped over, commanding I look elsewhere. There have been  a few auspicious leads, but just starting the process. So career shift joins the other life changes that this year brought.

You already know I ended things with Wildcard. I also basically closed the door on my monthly munch, being more than a little burned out on the Montreal BDSM scene.

I need to focus more on me, although life doesn’t want me to do that based on the demands it keeps dropping at my doorstep. So I have been cutting away a lot of things that are not cooperative with that goal, because I will be sick and chronically unhappy all the time if I don’t.

I love autumn as much for the changes it signifies as the other aspects of the season.

Fall is my favourite season, my new year, as a student, with crisp clean new supplies and excitement about my classes, then as an adult for the fact that the parts of the year I like start. It’s my romantic time, when I get dreamy and cozy, and historically tend to fall into the dreamiest states of love. The light is prettier, the temperature finally less obnoxious so I can do things.

So with the extra energy, both from my kicked up lust, the season change and my commitment to myself, I’ve been doing more.

This has largely been a net positive. I’ve been writing a bunch, even some exclusive stuff for Dreams Made Flesh, who is carrying the mission that I started this blog for, that Bitchy Jones inspired me to take up in the first place, one step further. Actually it’s one of the hotter things (to me) I’ve ever written.

Sure I am stressed as heck about money (now would be a good time to offer me a writing commission! ) and not entirely sure what I am doing, but the last couple of months have been more productive than the year combined. Documents I have needed have been applied for. Legal processes started.

I was past due for this.

I may not stay in Montreal for very long, depending what happens with my employment.  Or it might be a year more if a really good job pops up, but I feel like I’m done with this city now and ready to see what else is out there.

Fall is a dying season but also time to harvest what I planted, and I’m going out there with my basket.

Femdom Review “The Butters” Oil Based Lube

An oil based lube shown next to my favourite. I like this, but not for sex.

From time to time, as a blogger, I’m privileged to get random free samples shucked my way, for the publicity my talking about it gives, and also beta testing. In the case of The Butters, an oil based lube, it is one of the nicest moisturizers I have ever tried, but… I don’t want to put it on my vulva, or give someone a hand job with it, or slick up a toy with it. I will happily rub it into my legs and face, but it is not a good sex product for me.

And this brand does EVERYTHING right, so don’t think this is one of my little rants, like my disapproval of those cheap sex toys from overseas manufactures that swear they are 100% silicone and smell like a tire fire.  This is a a homemade oil based mix of different thick, edible fats with about the texture of a creamy body butter. You can’t use it with latex condoms, but it makes sure you know what it is right away, and it’s skin safe and scentless. I really like the politics of this producer and the fact that the branding is gender neutral while still taking into account its testers varied anatomy.

I even find the brown and yellow colour scheme visually attractive! Gosh, I wish I could tell you about how this was my go to lubricant, and how it totally rocked my socks. But it just doesn’t do the job it’s marketed to do.

That being said, the manufacturer is super responsive and gave me more tips on how to get the most value out of it (use a lot) as well as took my feedback regarding the sample bottles (yours would come in a jar, not a squeezy, I had trouble getting the product out). I was so sad I couldn’t make the sex part work that I put off my review for over a year. Procrastination isn’t the most mature solution, but I hate having to give a thumbs down, even a gentle, entirely it’s-not-you-it’s-me one.

I think I just need a thinner lube to experience the right mimic of what I naturally have. It feels unpleasantly chunky after getting used to oil for my massage and sex needs, and absorbs almost instantly in quantities I feel comfortable slathering on. That’s great stroked into freshly shaved legs or patted into my oft sensitive complexion. I imagine with a whole palmful it might be lovely for butt stuff.

I’m not the only reviewer to notice that it’s very other purpose friendly, not something I can say for water based KY (or KY knock offs) or silicone lube (no silicone lube for me, the bathroom floor was slippy for days after). It even lacks the excessively medicinal feel, and never goes tacky like the water based lubes due after a while.

But at the end of the day this is a fantastic natural, small batch moisturizer from a great independently owned business. I might even buy more to replace out my standard go to body butter, but I can’t make it work for sex, even if I actually like an oil based lube like coconut or sweet almond oil.

Note: The ingredient list has shifted a bit. Mine had arrow root powder but the formula on their website is as follows: “aloe vera gel, raw shea butter*, pure coconut oil, pure extra virgin olive oil, pure grapeseed oil, pure palm kernel oil*, pure soy lipid emulsion*, apple cider vinegar & guar bean powder.”