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Posts Tagged ‘kink positive blog’

  1. The Sex Unicorn

    May 1, 2017 by Heather Cole

     

    I’ve been talking a lot about unicorns and sex these days. OK, I talk about sex all the time. It’s the unicorns that keep popping up. (So many dick jokes running through my head right now. Focus, Heather!) Just last week I had the opportunity to write a yummy post for SwingTowns about this one time at the dungeon when we made a willing submissive into a sex unicorn. What the heck is a sex unicorn?? Well, my friends, click here and find out.

    Happy reading!

    Heather


  2. Do’s and Don’ts of Unicorn Hunting

    April 9, 2017 by Heather Cole

    The label of “unicorn” brings up a lot of feelings for people, and I’m not referring to the magical horse-with-a-horn that poops rainbows. I mean the magical creature, male or female, who enjoys joining a couple to make a sexual threesome. I like the label personally, but everyone has different expectations of what it means to be one. There are challenges on both sides, for those couples searching for their mythical third and for those of us who are searching for a suitable couple to fuck.

    Not so long ago I was interviewed for a a New York Post article about being a unicorn: The Search for the Elusive Threesome Unicorn  Thank you, EJ Dickson, for the great conversation! (Yes, she gave me a top secret fake name to protect my identity.) The article is great, because she interviewed three women with different experiences being a unicorn. Like I said, everyone has their own personal expectations about it.

    So, if you are considering a unicorn quest of your own, or would like to be a third for a couple, here are my top tips to start you off on the right hoof:

    (I crack myself up.)

    For the Unicorn Hunters

    Choose the appropriate site – I mention in the article that as soon as you put on your dating profile that you’re into open relationships and are bisexual, the couple emails start to arrive. But guess what! You can be a single, bisexual person who’s into open relationships and NOT want to unicorn. Slow your roll, unicorn hunters. Consider the website you’re searching. Is it a database focused on alternative lifestyles? Is there a search option for threesomes? Joining a site like SwingTowns will exponentially improve your odds of a successful search.

    Read the profile – Regardless of whether the unicorn of your naughty dreams is listed on FetLife or SwingTowns, don’t skim over her profile. Read. Every. Fucking. Word. Does she say specifically that she’s open to threesomes? If not, is there some clue in her profile that invites your interest? If it specifically states at the top of her profile in italics that she is “not looking to be anyone’s unicorn,” don’t ignore her statement and message her anyway certain that you will be the one to change her mind. *eye roll*

    Don’t copy/paste – Look, people aren’t stupid and most can tell a copy/paste message from the get-go. Unicorns know how bait-casting works, but even though she’s not the only one you’re fishing for, you need to make her feel as though she is. Theoretically we unicorns know that you’ve probably been messaging lots of women, but please don’t be obvious about it. Mention something that you read in her profile and liked, and tailor your message to that woman specifically. Otherwise, if you’re not willing to make any effort at all, why should she even bother to answer?

    Prepare for rejection – It happens, and in this case, silence speaks volumes. If days pass and she hasn’t replied to your message, she’s not going to, so don’t send another asking if she’s given any thought to a sweaty meeting. Don’t ask for her email, her phone number, or anything else highly personal. Just move along down the road.

    Timing – Unicorns need time to prepare for a sexy romp with a couple–they need to feel safe knowing their limits will be respected. Don’t make plans to meet for an introductory drink with the assumption she will get naked with you an hour later. It rarely works that way.

    Most importantly, be respectful, be patient, and don’t be a douche.

    From the Unicorn Perspective

    Yup, I like complementing a couple as a willing third in the threesome. True, I was *this close* to being the filling of a man-meat sandwich, but that was unusual for me. I’m most comfortable in a supportive role to the main couple. And this brings me to my first piece of advice:

    There are Different Breeds of Unicorn – We all have our different definitions of the label ‘unicorn,’ which typically corresponds to the qualities one is hunting for. “I’m dreaming of a unicorn who is ____ and has _____ and who is totally into _____.” The trick is finding that unicorn who also desires the qualities that you possess. The mythical part of the equation is that the unicorn will always give/contribute to the threesome without asking for anything in return, like emotional or physical gratification. Sweeties, that is a myth. Unicorns want to get off too. The truth is that we come in all genders and sexual tastes, and guess what, we unicorns have our own personal preferences about who we cavort with. A guy I used to date told me that I wasn’t really a unicorn because I wasn’t sleeping with ALL the couples I knew. Riiiiiiight. I think someone was mad that I wouldn’t do him and his wife. Sometimes you luck out and can find a tasty third to your twosome on a hookup site. Everything can look perfect, but understand that the unicorn may be scrutinizing you as much as you’re checking out them.

    Just Because You Found A Unicorn, It Doesn’t Mean They Have to Fuck You – Hey, Mr. Married Guy Who Wants a Chick to Seduce His Wife, I’m talking to you. And everyone else. But mostly to you. You may have a boatload of unspoken expectations regarding the unicorn you found, Mr. MGWWaCtSHW, but that doesn’t mean she has to comply with your irritating unspoken/sort of articulated plans for her and your wife. CONSENT is a huge, important part of unicorning. It’s an important facet of relationships in general, but in this specific scenario—and I can’t say this enough—unicorns don’t have to fuck you if they don’t want to. Even if I slept with you and your partner just last week, there is no written rule that says I have to do so again. And if you attempt to manipulate me into complying based on the fact that I ‘did it before,’ I will knee you in the balls on my way out of the door. No means no, and if it seems like I’m teetering on the edge of a rant, it’s because this has actually happened to me and it PISSES ME OFF.

    Communicate and Be Safe – I talk about this in the article. If you’ve started a dialogue with a unicorn regarding the possibility of a threesome, be clear about your expectations and what you want from the encounter. Everyone should discuss their limits, the things that are OK to do and those that are out of bounds. It’s really important for unicorns, regardless of gender, to feel safe in a situation. They may be saying positive things leading up to the big night, but if for any reason they don’t feel safe or don’t want to continue, they should bail. (see #2) There are ways to do this politely, and the sooner you, the unicorn, know it’s not going to work, the faster you should notify the other party. But there is never any time when it’s acceptable to coerce or threaten someone into compliance.

    A Gentle Approach – Why do you think medieval literature insisted that only a virgin could lure a unicorn out of the woods? Because we are special! If you go clomping through the forest with your armor, a pack of dogs, and 30 knights from the round table, I can promise you that every unicorn within miles will be hiding from your loud ass. In other words, if you are a M/F couple looking for a F-unicorn, for the love of all that’s holy, DO NOT have the M of your couple approach the F-unicorn first. Even dudes with the best of intentions come off as sleazeballs. And your message shouldn’t be titled: “I’m looking for a playmate for my wife.” Bring your computer over here, because I’m gonna barf on it. Your rates of success will increase if the female part of your couple reaches out to the female unicorn first. Even if the woman doesn’t really know what she wants, or if it’s her first time with another woman, her saying exactly that will be better received than a man reporting it second-hand.

    Sometimes Things Don’t Work Out Like You Thought They Would – Oh group sex… you are such a wily and capricious activity. The more people you add to a sexual situation, the more chances you have of things going differently than planned. Sometimes this is totally awesome. Other times, not so much. Just keep in mind that your “unicorn” is actually a human being of flesh and blood. They’re there to participate in your fun, but that’s no guarantee that everything will be rainbows and cupcakes. Sometimes it doesn’t work out that way. But if everyone communicates about what they want and how they want it, your rate of success will be even better

    Remember: be safe, communicate like crazy, and keep an open mind. Some day, your unicorn will come. Er, you’ll come with a unicorn. Wait…


  3. Decriminalizing Sex Work

    September 11, 2015 by Heather Cole

    Recently Amnesty International made headlines by proposing a policy to decriminalize sex work.

    “Sex workers are one of the most marginalized groups in the world. In many countries, they are threatened with a whole host of abuses, including rape, beatings, trafficking, extortion forced eviction and discrimination, including exclusion from health services. More often than not, they get no, or very little, legal protection. In fact, in many cases these violations and abuses are carried out by the police, clients and abusive third parties.”

    It should be noted that Amnesty International wasn’t suggesting that sex work be legalized. With their policy of decriminalization, they hope to offer sex workers the protection of basic human rights and to take them out of the role of “accomplice” to a crime, which is their livelihood.

    “The decriminalization of sex work means that sex workers are no longer breaking the law by carrying out sex work. They are not forced to live outside the law and there is better scope for their human rights to be protected.”

    “If sex work is legalized, it means that the state makes very specific laws and policies that formally regulate sex work. This can lead to a two tier system where many sex workers operate outside these regulations and are still criminalised – often the most marginalised street based sex workers. Decriminalization places greater control into the hands of sex workers to operate independently, self-organise in informal cooperatives and control their own working environments in a way that legalization often does not.”

    To read more about Amnesty’s policy, click here.

    Some may be surprised to know that sex work doesn’t only include street-based sex workers or escorts, like Escorts and Babes. Adult film actors/actresses, exotic dancers, brothel workers, incall/outcall workers, phone sex operators, rent boys, nude models, webcam models, full-body masseuses, adult film producers, dominatrixes, and adult website owners are all part of what is considered sex work.

    Since Amnesty International published their proposal some sex workers, like this male escort, have been voicing their stories. Most of the sex workers I’ve met, and read about, didn’t choose sex work because they thought they’d earn the respect of their community and have fun. They were men and women who were trying to keep a roof over their family’s head and food on the table. And all human beings, regardless of their jobs, deserve basic human rights like access to healthcare, and legal protection.

    The sex trade is never going to disappear. That line about it being the ‘oldest profession’ is true. There will always be a demand for sex and people willing to pay for it. Rather than vilify the people performing this service, we have the power to give sex workers dignity and decriminalize their work. We could change things so that it’s not a risk to their personal safety to earn a living. Decriminalization also means giving workers a chance to do something different and make different choices if they want, instead of branding them with a scarlet letter on their official record that will limit any future jobs unrelated to sex. Decriminalization of sex work means breaking the cycle that marginalizes its workers, so that legal efforts can focus on human trafficking and those forced into sexual slavery.

    I wrote this article at my favorite cafe, and a stranger approached me and asked what I was writing about. I told him the title of the article, and his reaction was to ask me why I cared about “Pasquale the street walker” and Pasquale’s abuse at the hands of the police in some foreign country. I was taken aback at first. Shouldn’t we all be concerned about the people living at the fringes of our society? I was surprised that he considered the plight of a sex worker a problem for developing nations. Honey, sex work is right here in the good ‘ol USofA. It made me want to challenge his privileged viewpoint, but I was flustered that 1. he had asked specifically about my topic, and 2. I had answered honestly.

    When I replayed our interaction, I wish I had answered differently. I wish I had asked him his personal opinion. “If a white, older man paid me to tie him up, spank his bare bottom, and then impale him with a large phallus in his anus in a private home, should I be denied a safe place to live? Should I be refused medical insurance? Should I fear for my personal safety, because I was paid to perform a service? You, dear stranger, may have a strong reaction to the nature of the particular service. But should I, the service provider, be denied basic human rights for fulfilling it?”

    Sex work is a taboo subject in this country. Most people want to go about their lives like it doesn’t exist, or we only talk about it in reference to a bachelor party or the incredibly unrealistic, Pretty Woman. And I get it. It’s challenging to separate how we feel about the morality of paying for sex from the people who are fulfilling the sex work. In my opinion, we’re all human beings and we all deserve to be treated as such. ~Heather

    And something else…you never know who is a sex worker. It’s not like they wear a t-shirt or a super-cool badge. Most sex workers fly under the radar, not wanting their profession to be known for fear of being outed to public scrutiny, or worse, being arrested.

    A sex worker–in any industry–could be the single mother in the car in front of you, dropping off her child at school. It could be the man shopping for produce at the farmer’s market, or the young woman attending college classes. You don’t know the reasons why they chose the job that they did, and believe me, it is a job. So if you do happen to meet a person who is a sex worker, be nice and have empathy. You may not realize it, but we need them. They are a vital piece in becoming the sex-positive world we are working toward, so for fucks sake, show some respect. ~Nikki


  4. She’s just a girl on fire

    August 15, 2015 by Heather Cole

    woman with candle

    Fire brings up all sorts of emotions when you play with it. Even before the flames kiss your skin, there’s the rush of anticipation blowing through you, accompanied by a flicker of fear. It’s elemental. Primal. And when my friend texted me about joining her and her partner for some fire play, I was all for it.

    My introduction to fire play began with a text:

    “Can I light you on fire?”

    It was sent from my friend, Stormy, who is the queen of no-context texts. I replied, of course, with a similar cheeky attitude.

    “Literally on fire? No. I like these shorts too much.”

    S: “Oh, I’d need you naked first.”

    Me: “Then yes! You can absolutely set me on fire!”

    Before you think that I let any ‘ol person light me on fire, I already knew that Stormy’s partner, D, was experienced with fire play. She wanted to learn too, and she needed a demo bottom to experiment with. Add to that the fact that I adore them both and trust them implicitly, so I knew that I was in good hands for my first foray into fire.

    D created torches from fondue forks, cotton batting, and cotton finger bandages. He then dipped them in rubbing alcohol and set them on fire. I know there are a lot of details in the process that I’m missing, but my focus wasn’t on how it all worked. I was more interested in how it would feel. (Hey, if you want to play with fire, for heaven’s sake, do your research and go to a demonstration first.)

    Even with my full consent, I felt a spike of anxiety as I lay on the massage table in their bedroom and waited to feel the first burst of warmth across my body. We started out with me on my stomach on the massage table. D explained to Stormy the different techniques he enjoyed as the torches hovered over my body in various places. The gentle warmth was soothing as I closed my eyes, and some of the tension in my body drained away. Sometimes he drew a path of alcohol first, followed by a lighted torch that would burn the trail of rubbing alcohol. He often brushed behind the flames with his palm to ensure that all the fire was out. The point was to burn the alcohol and feel the fire without doing any damage to the skin. I appreciated that.

    The experimentation began, and Stormy lit lines of fire over my back. D watched from the bed with a blanket beside him in case we needed to smother an out-of-control flame. Even though we were consenting adults, we were playing with fire–literally. And it was better to have safety precautions in place beforehand instead of hoping for the best that there would be no accidents.

    Stormy’s light touch and the racing fire gave me all sorts of ideas. Her excitement about learning a new skill lent itself to my building arousal, and I couldn’t help but squirm beneath her ministrations. The way she manipulated the flames made me wish that she’d do even more with her hands. I felt a keen edge of danger that accompanied the heat, even though I knew logically that I was mostly safe. And all of it fed into a wanton throbbing between my legs.

    I didn’t act upon my desires, mainly because I hadn’t cleared any of that beforehand with my sir, and secondly, I can be a complete wimp when it comes to making the first move on a woman. At the end of the night I gave D and stormy friendly hugs and gratitude, and went straight home to work out my raging libido with my vibrator. I reported everything to sir, and enjoyed myself so much that when sir arrived stateside for his month-long vacation, he asked to learn fire play too.

    My second fire play scene began with me, once again, face-down on the massage table. Even though I couldn’t see the three people circling me, I could identify the individuals from their different fire styles. Stormy had an even rhythm:  fire, sweep of the hand, fire, sweep of the hand. She could have lulled me into a meditative, relaxed state, even when she traced the flame along the soles of my feet. D placed the alcohol and torch with more force. His movements incited a visceral reaction, something I felt in my gut. There was the staccato rush of intense heat, and then it was gone a split-second later that made me writhe. Sir’s effect on me was different.

    His flame was sneaky, and he enjoyed watching it burn along the dips and curves of my flesh. He didn’t have a particular rhythm or pattern, and he didn’t always sweep behind the trailing alcohol with his hand. As a result, the heat grew more intense depending on where he placed its path, and there were several times I squealed in protest, worried that it was burning too long.

    Daddy knows how to play with my mind like no other, and when he told me to turn over so that my front was exposed, I knew he was going to twist my feelings into the fire that played over my tenderest bits. Blue flame danced over my breasts and nipples, and he made me watch, chuckling when I begged to be allowed to close my eyes again. Seeing the fire made the sensations on my skin ratchet up in intensity, which fought against my will to remain as motionless as possible. Stormy came to sit between my legs, her hands stroking my calves and thighs.

    Again the desire built inside me. The stimulus was intense, and my instincts warred against one another. I wanted to kiss Stormy and arch against sir’s hand on my breast. I could have brushed against the front of D’s body when he bent over me or stroked the growing wetness at the juncture of my thighs. But I had to remain still as the fire bound me in place more effectively than any rope. Their attentions and the rioting sensations made the entire scene an intense roller coaster ride. To be honest, I can’t even remember if Daddy gave me an orgasm or not—everything began to run together in a long series of intense stimulus. I had no sense of time, but when they finally wound down, I was spent.

    D cleaned up while I clumsily got back into my clothes. After many thank yous to Stormy and D for the amazing experience, I asked Daddy to drive because I was spacey. He surprised me, and instead of going directly home, he took a detour to our favorite burger joint to feed me cheeseburgers at midnight. Later we snuggled in bed as my endorphin high gradually faded, and I reflected on the different sensations of fire play vs the impact play that I typically enjoy. Both are dangerous, and I’m lucky to have relationships where I skirt that danger safely yet still experience a thrill. I got to be that girl on fire.

     


  5. Fifty Shades of NO: The Movie

    July 9, 2015 by Heather Cole

    Image courtesy of Salvatore Vuono at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

    I watched Fifty Shades of Grey the other night. I haven’t read the books, mostly because of the lackluster (poorly written) excerpts I read online. Sir watched it last week, though, and his feedback surprised me. He said there was a D/s contract and negotiation, and even though I was openly incredulous, I knew I had to watch it for the sole purpose of being able to discuss it with him. Plus, sir said that Mr. Grey’s playroom was kickass, and I’m a sucker for a well-appointed dungeon. I settled into bed after my child fell asleep, and watched the movie with my phone in my hand, so I could text Nikki about all the failings of the movie and its portrayal of D/s.

    I discovered that Fifty Shades of Grey, the movie, is about a woman who doesn’t want to be a submissive. She wants a billionaire boyfriend that treats her to amazing, spectacular adventures like flights in a glider, a helicopter, and buys her fab things. She wants love and romance, to be courted and swept off her feet. And there’s nothing wrong with that. The crux of the problem is that the billionaire boyfriend is a dominant and a sadist, and what he wants is a submissive with a signed contract that commits to a D/s relationship, which doesn’t guarantee emotional intimacy. At least, not the kind of emotional intimacy that a more traditional dating relationship would entail. Christian Grey also has a tendency to creep, stalk, and lurk. Add to these conflicting, fundamental differences the fact that BOTH characters are positively shitty communicators, and you have the basic gist of this movie.

    But… but… Heather, you say, aren’t you always going on and on about the physical and emotional intimacy you enjoy through BDSM? How can Mr. Grey be anything but a cad and a blackguard for wanting Anastasia bound and naked yet not wanting to cuddle with her overnight?

    My perspective of this movie is from the viewpoint of a woman who signed a D/s contract without the promise of romance. I committed myself to a dominant without the knowledge that we would fall deeply in love and that our partnership would expand into “regular” life. What I desired most of all was a man that would hurt me in all the ways that I wanted, who would use me, control me, and degrade me in the most delicious ways I could imagine. I wanted bondage, and pain; an outlet for those nameless things that clamored inside me–I wanted to serve. And I knew that sir was a decent man, one who would keep me safe while I explored all the dark, twisting turns of my desires. I knew he would be a caretaker for me in those times of domination and submission, but in the beginning, I didn’t have aspirations that our D/s would follow a path to romance and courtship. I had no expectation that we would live together, that my submission would turn 24/7, or that we would continue together despite an overseas relocation and months of separation.

    So no, I don’t think Mr. Grey is fucked up for being a dominant or a sadist. He lacks the ability to communicate his feelings to the unwilling, yet grudgingly submitting Anastasia. He utters the words “due diligence” to her, yet they fail to do anything except some light bondage and fucking six-ways-to-Sunday in the playroom. That’s all well and good, but she needed to do actual research on D/s (it’s called Google, Anastasia). Contracts in D/s can be a big frickin’ deal, and even though they aren’t legally binding, I would never enter into one without a lot of thought and consideration beforehand. But that’s a rant for a different day.

    Where Mr. Grey did fuck up (besides the stalking, lurking, and non-consensual control) was that he didn’t say anything regarding the trauma of his past (talking to someone when they’re asleep doesn’t count), or how it’s possible to be a loving sadist/dominant. Probably because he’s completely unfamiliar with what a functioning relationship may feel like.

    With such fundamental differences between them, you know the movie isn’t going to end well. It really doesn’t. In fact, it’s the last twenty minutes of the movie that made me hate it. Because nothing infuriates me more than a play partner begging for a certain thing, hating it but not using their safewords, and then when it’s all over, shaming the other person for doing the exact thing that they requested earlier. This sort of interaction is precisely why BDSM gets a bad rep when our lifestyle is actually based upon a foundation of consent and trust. And the simple act of writing about it has pissed me off all over again.

    sigh…

    I need a glass of wine and funny cat videos to forget this clusterfuck of a movie.

     

    For an eloquent fact-checking article regarding the “kink” (yeah, I placed that in quotes) in FSoG, Nikki found a great article written by actual kinky folks who engage in actual Dominance/submission. Read it HERE.

    ~And since Heather watched the movie, sharing with me a bazillion texts regarding its ridiculousness as it unfolded, I’ve agreed to finally read the clusterfuck of a book. Oy.~ Nikki


  6. A Little Help for My Friends–Golden Showers Edition

    May 5, 2015 by Heather Cole

    Legs and Heart

    Creating a BDSM scene takes creativity, communication, and cooperation. The submissive and Dominant work together to make an experience. The more complex the experience, the longer it takes to plan. This is one of the reasons I love having kinky friends, because when they have an idea that they need help transitioning from fantasy to reality, I like to help if I can. I’m a giver that way.

    I got a call from a friend who needed help with a scene with her male submissive. I had helped her before, and I admired her creativity and ingenuity. Her submissive was into degradation and humiliation, and he wanted more than anything to be pissed on by a female. My friend could have done it, but she knew she’d have her hands full (literally) with some cock and ball torture. There are times like these when Dominants could use an extra hand, and she wanted to know if I could donate… some pee.

    Urine is not a fetish of mine. In fact, I heartily object when sir wants to piss on me although I still submit to the treatment. In the scheme of things, I don’t find it arousing although the humiliation can be hot. Peeing on someone else, though, was a titillating idea for me. I’ve had many a kinky adventure with golden showers, and I jumped at the chance to try something new. Because really, who doesn’t want to pee on another willing human being for fun?

    At 9:00 a.m. I got the text that her submissive was amenable to her plan, and I immediately started pounding Mason jars full of water. My friend said that she wanted me “practically bursting” by the time I arrived, and even though my spirit was willing, my body had other ideas. My system figured we were doing some type of cleanse, and after the first couple quarts of water, I was in the bathroom. Which meant that I had to drink even more, so that I could pee on command for the guy. I tried to work, but instead I made one long, circuitous route from the kitchen to get water, upstairs to my office to drink it, and then to the bathroom. The entire time I asked myself, “can I hold it?” “How bad do I really have to pee?” “Do I think I have enough pee to provide a satisfying experience?”

    I arrived at the house at my allotted time (after downing another quart of water on the drive over) and opened the front door, knowing in advance that she would leave it unlocked for me. The sunken living room to my left was dominated by a wooden Saint Andrew’s Cross and a huge square frame that she used for tying up willing submissives. There was a tall, middle-aged man against the cross, naked, and stroking his very large cock. I had just enough time to murmur an appreciative hello before my friend waved me over.

    I barely had enough time to discard my purse before she had pulled a chair in front of the man and ordered me to strip. I did so as she scurried out of the room, only to return moments later with a large glass of water. I almost groaned out loud at the thought of drinking more, but she warned me that we wouldn’t start until all that water had disappeared down my throat.

    Sometimes it is so hard being a helpful submissive.

    I sat on the chair and opened my thighs wide, watching the naked man with greedy eyes. I quickly learned that I could masturbate and drink a glass of water at the same time. It’s slightly less difficult than patting my head while rubbing my stomach at the same time. The water was icy in contrast to the heat coming off my body. Every movement of his hand, from the base of his erection to the tip, made me think dirty thoughts about impaling myself. That wasn’t part of the game plan, so I concentrated on edging myself ever closer to orgasm. My legs started to tremble–I was so close. But my friend appeared with a Hitachi and motioned us upstairs. I was a little disappointed and tried not to pout. After all, this scene wasn’t about me getting off. It was about fulfilling the desires of another submissive.

    My friend expertly tied a long cotton shoestring around the man’s cock and balls, making his penis even larger than before, the color deepening into a dark red. We crowded into the bathroom, two naked people and one fully dressed, while she ran warm water in the shower to make it more comfortable for her submissive. She told him to lie on his back in the tub and instructed me to straddle him while I masturbated anally. Again, this was easier than patting my head while rubbing my stomach. I climbed into the tub and placed one foot on the soap holder so that he had a good view of my pussy and would be able to see my dildo move in and out of my anus. The entire time that it took for me to position myself, the sub rubbed his cock and ate up every inch of my body with his blue eyes.

    I felt the flutter of butterflies in my stomach as I stood over him, but I also experienced a rush of adrenaline. I knew in that moment that I was going to pee on that boy like a motherfucking champion urinator. (That’s totally a thing.) My friend crouched beside him and whispered filthy things in his ear as I let go of my golden stream. It splashed all over his genitals and against my legs. A small part of me had the instinctive reaction of “ew, gross!” A bigger part of me reveled in the sensations–the feeling of warm liquid trickling over my skin accompanied by the slight smell of ammonia in the air. Possessing control over myself, and to some degree, this other person was a big adrenaline rush. In that moment, his pleasure was mine to play with and do what I willed. I was grinning like a mad person, high on exhilaration and the dildo’s friction.

    The man groaned, and his pace quickened. I mirrored him, knowing that even if I didn’t orgasm, it felt too damn good to stop. I let out a gasp of surprise as the anal orgasm blew through me, and I grabbed on to the tiled wall for support. I collected myself as my friend and I both watched as he shouted and ejaculated on to his stomach a few moments later. We were a smiling, laughing, happy mess.

    My friend asked me later about the scene, and I was pleased to report that I had nothing but good things to say about my experience, even though I spent the rest of the evening peeing in the normal, boring bathroom kind of way. I’m looking forward to the next time she calls, because I do love helping my friends.


  7. Dear Heather: Can We Talk About Pain in Play

    April 4, 2015 by Heather Cole

    Sparks of blue water on a white background ...

     

    Heather,
    You have written about the pain you enjoy during play. Can you talk about / share tips on how to expand one’s pain threshold? How to find that quiet inner place and stay there?
    Thanks!
    Rachel

    Dear Rachel,

    The good news is that our pain thresholds are completely subjective. This means that with practice and training we can increase them. If you work at different pain coping techniques, you will be able to meld pleasure and pain into one or release the pain altogether. It’s within our control, as the receiver of the stimulus, to manage the pain in play. The Top who’s delivering the stimulus can help or hinder our processing, depending on their intention for the scene, but ultimately it rests in our hands. Er, brains.

    There are three factors that impact how I process pain in BDSM: 1. my headspace, 2. the intention of the Top applying the stimulus, and 3. the type of stimulus. #3 is of lesser importance than the other two, because again, it’s going to be my brain and mindset that will be doing the heavy lifting of pain management in a scene. All three of these factors have places where they overlap and interconnect, and you’ll be able to figure out the ways they work together for you.

    Finding your inner ‘quiet place’ takes practice, so I suggest exploring through visualization and meditation before you’re involved in a scene. This is the first step in stretching your pain threshold. My favorite quote from Dune is, “Fear is the mindkiller,” and you don’t have to ride giant worms through the sand to relate. The fear we experience anticipating the stimulus (regardless of whether it’s bondage, impact play, knives, needles, or whatever) is the checkmate to our freedom from pain. So the anxiety about how the cane is going to feel whacking your ass will counteract releasing those feelings and extending the experience. Let go of your pre-scene jitters through some deep-breathing/relaxation techniques, and the memory of how that feels to be peaceful and quiet can be your foundation as you begin a scene.

    Have you ever meditated? The elements of meditation are simple. Focus on making your breath deep and even. Although your body is undergoing physical, consensual stress, centering your focus on how you breathe will allow you to shift your awareness away from the stimulus happening to your physical self. With meditation, it’s a combination of deep breathing and relaxing your body that allows you to shift awareness. Our overall goal is to feel the pain but not hold on to it. The more we can let it go, the longer we can experience the stimulus and extend our play. Quieting your mind and evening out your breath will aid you in accomplishing this.

    Sometimes it helps me during a scene to visualize the impact as raindrops falling on water or bursts of colors that then dissolve into nothing. Think of it like fireworks. There’s the build of noise (which is the building stimulus), then a shot of color that bursts into stars (the pain of impact), and then the glittering light fades away into darkness (the pain goes away). Move that pain from the point of impact to nothingness. Again, it’s that shifting of awareness that transforms the pain into something other than this overwhelming thing that we’re desperate to escape.

    When I play with others, sir and I typically negotiate a date and I have lots of time to prepare. This means visualizing myself processing stimulus easily, and most importantly, feeling the pain enter and leave my body easily. We want it to leave, right? What we don’t want is to become so overwhelmed that we have to “red” and call all action to a halt, unless it’s necessary for your emotional or physical well-being. My mantra is that pain is fleeting, and my focus is on breathing through it. My darling sir, however, often wants to keep me on the edge. His intention is to keep my awareness sharp, and instead of letting me drift away on a wave of endorphins, he wants to test my boundaries. Delightfully sadistic, right? Sometimes, I can’t find that quiet place no matter what I do. My emotions are tumultuous, and I can’t catch my breath. Those are the times that I can only surrender and endure the rollercoaster ride. Despite my best intentions, sometimes pain gets the better of me, and I end up pleading for mercy. Let’s face it, sometimes our Dominants want tears. And this brings me to the second factor: the intention of your Top.

    If your Top is working with you to aid or train you to process pain, how they apply the stimulus can help tremendously. Several different chemicals are released naturally during the course of a scene, but the one that BDSM practitioners talk about the most is endorphins. Our endorphin friends are natural pain managers. The body releases them in waves, and your first hit can occur pretty fast with something as simple as nipple stimulation. Of course, everyone’s chemistry is different so the timeframe of release will vary. Generally you can achieve, with the Top’s help of course, your first endorphin rush within the first few moments of stimulus, and then it’s five to ten minutes to work up to the next release. In the example of a caning, the Top’s first hits will release endorphins into your bloodstream. Then it’s five to ten minutes of minimal stimulus, or a sensual caning, to allow your body to build up the supply, and harder hits to release it again. As more and more endorphins enter your bloodstream, your body will require more impact or stimulus in order to release more. It’s all about build-up, baby.

    I’m guessing, Rachel, that you might process some stimulus easier than others. Do you have a favorite implement? Is the thud of a flogger more soothing than the sting of a metal spatula? Or do you favor sting over thud? Practicing with your favorite impact toy is the easiest way to begin stretching that pain threshold. For example, the rhythmic thud of my favorite, heavy flogger feels like a security blanket to me. The flip side of the coin is that something sharp like a knife. Not only does the keen edge give me the flutter of anxiety butterflies of anticipation, but the sensation of being cut isn’t soothing to me. That pain process is trickier for me to release, but I’m working on it.

    The key to all of this, however, is consent and trust. I can’t stress this enough. I’m free to focus on my pain during play, because I trust that my sir isn’t going to do anything that will irreparably damage me. I trust that he wants my happiness as much as I desire to please him. We have spent a lot of time and effort discussing limits and giving consent to various activities. And if I play with someone else, the limits of stimulus are carefully negotiated. Nothing happens without consent from all parties involved, and during play, my sir or the Top checks in with me to see how I’m feeling during the scene. We use the colors “green,” “yellow,” and “red” to indicate how I’m processing physically and emotionally, and it’s that kind of clear, open communication that leads to a successful scene. Even though I may feel nervous about something we might do, I never fear for my safety. Neither should you.


  8. 5 Reasons Pornstars Hate 50 Shades of Grey

    February 28, 2015 by Heather Cole

    Not long ago, these pornstars explained Net Neutrality in a way that made me love the art that is porn even more. And it had nothing to do with the cheesy bow-chicka-bow-wow music playing in the background. Not entirely. Seriously, though. Who doesn’t love 70s porn music?

    Anyway, the three beauties, with all of their awesomeness, are at it again with 5 Reasons Pornstars Hate 50 Shades of Grey, and it’s spot on.

     


  9. An Anniversary: Dominance and Submission

    February 20, 2015 by Heather Cole

    Fashion photo of handsome man and two women

    The end of this month marks an anniversary for Sir and me. It was our first date, and I cooked him homemade saag paneer (an Indian dish) and baked him a cake. Little did I know that we would sign our Master/slave contract three weeks later. I will have been his collared sex slave for two years, and ever since I saw his calendar reminder of our anniversary, I’ve been reflecting on the evolution of our dynamic. I’m accustomed to long musings, just look at my blog posts for evidence of this, but this year’s anniversary reflections are particularly interesting with the phenomena of Fifty Shades as its backdrop.

    It’s easy for people to recognize the stereotypical male Dominant/female submissive trope. Like the dude in the photo above, the stereotype is that the male Dominant has scantily clad ladies prancing around following his orders. I understand the allure of the fantasy. The alpha male swoops in, makes the woman hot and bothered, fucks her into many mutual orgasms, and all is right in the romantic world. It’s one of the reasons why I write erotica, and why Fifty Shades of Grey broke the box office. The reality of Dominance and submission is far richer than what can be communicated through media. It’s not always grand kinky gestures all the time, and it’s the day-to-day interactions with Sir that give our D/s depth and meaning.

    I don’t resent the FSoG converts flocking to Fetlife and snatching up handcuffs from Spencer’s. I used to be one of those people with a huge exclamation mark above their heads and eyes newly opened with titillating kinky knowledge. My catalyst was a dying marriage and the movie Secretary. And by the time I entered into a relationship with Sir, I had already been around the D/s block once. I don’t think either one of us would consider ourselves the stereotypical Dominant/submissive, but in the beginning of our relationship, we probably had some of those expectations. For example, the stereotype that a Dominant should always be in control and emotionally distant because of that control.

    I think it’s bullshit.

    A person might be able to meet that stereotype if they only wanted to role play for a specified amount of time within specified parameters. And in the beginning of our relationship, I think Sir felt that expectation—that he should be in control at all times. But the gift of D/s to me is that the authentic communication required to sustain a dynamic dissolves the barriers between partners. We’re not robots or actors. We expose ourselves through Dominance and submission:  physically, mentally, and emotionally. We reveal our true selves in order to deepen our connection and cross boundaries. I wanted Sir to tell me how he felt, especially how our interactions affected him. Dominance and submission together can be an act of trust, and it can be a gift for both the giver and the receiver.

    After we got together, I clung to my independence outside of fucking, and I told Sir that I didn’t want to be micro-managed. He assured me that he didn’t want to choose my clothing or tell me what to write. Gradually, as we shared more of our time and thoughts, Sir began to ask more of me. He pushed at those boundaries that I had erected, and I had a lot of feelings about it. Many of them documented here. He asked for more of me, and as our relationship deepened and trust grew, I gave him parts of me that I hadn’t shown to anyone. He became more than my mentor, he evolved into my protector. That “daddy” aspect of D/s that I swore I would never want became part of our play. And the games we created reinforced our roles. Even when I pitched a fit and resisted a task, I eventually complied, because in my heart of hearts, I needed to obey him to make myself happy and to feel complete.

    That’s a factor that I think fails to come through in books and movies. Submission can be about playing obedient on the weekends or in the bedroom, but living in submission, with a Dominant at the helm of your relationship means digging deeper. D/s can be a journey inward as much as it is being tied up and fucked. The trick to that is revealing your inner self to the other. Not sexy at all, right? It can even feel scary at times. Like, what if I reveal a jealous or angry part of myself that makes Sir not desire me? Or worse, what if he shuts me out because he doesn’t want to deal with irrational me?

    Like I said before, it’s an act of faith and trust. I remarked to a friend lately that traditional relationships are a challenge for me, because I prefer to live in the extremes. My passiveness, which can be a detriment in the role of traditional girlfriend, is an asset as a sex slave. On the other side of the spectrum, my brattiness can be a positive within the context of D/s too. The control that Sir exerts over me is as much a construct of his desires as it is mine. He calls it a “tight hug” and during our time together, I have wanted that hug tighter and tighter. Especially now that he lives overseas. Those activities that we call games–like sending Sir pics of two outfits every night so that he can decide what I wear and how to style my hair for the next day–are ways in which we tell each other that we’re committed to our dynamic, and that we love each other so much that we want to make that effort. Sir promises me that he will show up every single day to talk to me, and every single day I see his handsome face and hear his voice. I rely on him as I have never relied on anyone, and in correlation, my love for him is deeper than anything I have ever experienced.

    It’s not easy and fun all the time. You can read about parts of our journey on this blog, and it’s one of the reasons that I continue writing about us. There are tears, debates, and angry words sometimes. We both have moments of resistance at different junctions, and some days, we show up to our daily talk with a heavy heart. But we show up. Every single damn day, we show up to be Master and slave, partners and lovers. I have never felt so challenged and so loved, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

    Happy Anniversary, Daddy.


  10. Dave Barry Reviews FSOG

    February 12, 2015 by Heather Cole

    Man Reading on Toilet 2

    A friend of mine shared an article that Dave Barry wrote for the New York Times last March, reviewing Fifty Shades of Grey. Barry explains that he wanted to read the book, because…

    “…as a man with decades of experience in the field of not knowing what the hell women are thinking, I was hoping this book would give me some answers. Because a lot of women LOVED this book. And they didn’t just read it; they responded to it by developing erotic feelings—feelings so powerful that in some cases they wanted to have sex with their own husbands.”

    Read the entire article HERE.

    Barry offers his review of the book, and it’s not favorable.

    “This is the kind of a book where, instead of saying things, characters muse them, and they are somehow able to muse them matter-of-factly. And these matter-of-fact musings cause other characters’ brows—which of course were already knitted—to knit stillfurther. The book is over five hundred pages long and the whole thing is written like that. If Jane Austen (another bestselling female British author) came back to life and read this book, she would kill herself.”

    He’s very funny about not liking the book (which one would expect from Dave Barry), but what I appreciated most about his article was that he brought up two interesting points. The first being that what women consider erotica (he used the word ‘porn’) is not what men expect from porn. I’ve been saying this to my sir whenever he edits one of my stories. His complaint is that the plot interferes with the fucking. I point out that it’s because he’s a man, and if I wrote a story for him it would be 95% sex and 1% dialogue. Thank you, Mr. Barry, for supporting my point.

    The best part of Barry’s essay, in my opinion, is his conclusion about why women loved FSoG.

    “Why was this book so incredibly popular? When so many women get so emotionally involved in a badly written, comically unrealistic porno yarn, what does this tell us? That women are basically insane? Yes.

    I mean no! No. Of course it does not tell us that. What it tells us is this: Women are interested in sex.”

    HOLD THE PHONE, people. Women are interested in sex??

    And here comes my favorite of this article, he explains that many men grow up being taught that women don’t want sex as much as men. Shocker, I know. That’s one of the themes of our little ‘ol blog, right here. I mean, that’s exactly why we started writing about our sexual adventures. We, the women of Vagina Antics, wanted sex as much as men wanted sex. Not our husbands. Obviously. But like other men who wanted sex.

    So despite my general disdain for FSoG (for poor craftsmanship on the author’s part), Barry’s article made me resent it less. If men can interpret it to mean that women like sex, then sally forth, gentlemen! Just be polite about it.

    ~Heather