O Cool!

Things that are not mine but I feel worth promoting to other people.

Other Places to Go Round Up

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So I’ve been coughing and sick all week, and soothing my sore throat with popsicles. And it’s time to share something sweet with you guys.

o~o~o

Pervocracy hilariously punctured poor Cosmo’s efforts to get in to the 50 Shades craze with some BDSMLite, including the perils of letting anyone writer “Property of [name]” on your underpants.

The Gloss‘s take was pretty funny too. Auuugh, bra bondage, who’s idea was that?!

Island of Pain has some good advice for things you shouldn’t do socially to dominants, as a dominant. And it applies to pretty much every dynamic and has sane caveats.

Little Submissions discovered a New Hard Limit I’m pretty sure we all have in this cute little short story.

Dumb Domme is talking about limits in the way that they sometimes get talked about. IE the way that make me bang my head off of walls.

Enjoy!

Profanity from Pain

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I’ve got a fetish, and it’s not for men who are super polite in the bedroom. I like it when they swear. There’s something particularly thrilling about a foul mouth when it hurts.

Don’t get me wrong, the whole suppressed grunts and whimpering and carrying on has a special place in my heart too… but give me a man who curses like a sailor when the cruelty starts and you’ll have me following him around glassy eyed, in a lemming like fashion.

It’s even hot when you’re not even doing anything that nasty. It feels like you’ve impressed him. Shocked him out of coherence.

“Oh fuck, Miss!” feels so good the instant it escapes his mouth.

Check this out by Ferns:

I move down your chest to your left nipple. I lick it, suck it into my mouth, nibbling at it, then lapping gently with the flat of my tongue. I close my teeth around your flesh and pull at it, applying some pressure. It’s hard. I grab the peg and pull the skin of your nipple forward, closing the peg on it.

I watch your face register the pain, my stomach flipping over as you bite your lip. You are trying to be stoic. I wait for you to swear.

“…Fucking fuck fuck…”

I grab your head and pull your mouth to mine, wanting to swallow your words, I kiss you aggressively and your angry mouth returns the kiss hard, taking my breath. So fucking hot, I’m making soft inarticulate noises into your mouth.

Pure bloody joy (and the rest of her writing is pretty hot too!).

There’s also a certain delight in bedroom trash talk. The protests of a man defeated: “Oh, you evil bitch.” “You’re fucking cruel, Miss!”

I eat it up like candy and it’s a hundred times better than “Goddess!” or any permutation of the worshiping script. Don’t you dare wax lyrical about my sacred cunt. I’m the bitch, the scourge, and your damnation. I hurt, and scratch and bite. I slap and I strike. I know I’m at my happiest when my sadism is bearing down on you. I want it to be awful and evil and I want your curses because they feel real.

Little Submissions

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There is someone out there, throwing up his stories onto his blog all for free, writing my sexuality, my approach to things, all exactly how I want them to be.

Little Submissions

I wish someone with a camera and a couple of nice models would take the time to recreate half the  scenes he delivers up. I wish more porn had that loving eye for detail, that level of talent and the right sort of connection. It’s not the usual lump of over ripe male flesh served up on a platter of snarling ineffectual pro-tops, selling the fantasy of them and their corsets and untouchability, while daintily trying to tread around the unfortunate presence of their victim. It’s female doms who fuck, but not out of contractual obligation, it’s pain, but pain expressed so good I get the same sadist empathy shivers just from reading.

I wish I could pick out my favourites, but there’s so many I’d have to list half his catalogue. He just throws them up without a second thought, as if it were nothing special to be tossing off weekly little projects, no cross referencing or tagging either. But just for an example, try this one, Eye Candy. Note the way he makes the act of dressing up seem very real and human, and manages to build up the eroticism from the imperfections and lapses inherent in real life. Or this inventive creation that manages to make filling your bathtub with dirt seem like a good idea. Or this one, still something I think about, which matches scene realism and romanticism with rather a lot of pain, Every Square Inch.