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March 14th, 2013 -- by Bacchus

On Courtesans And Whores

The next time you hear someone (or even yourself) talking the same old smack about hookers, consider this:

The existence of courtesans is a glaring refutation of neofeminist dogma about objectification, the eternal victimhood of whores, etc; the fact that the most celebrated, successful and highly-paid harlots of all time were often those who were educated and could match or surpass men in intellectual pursuits throws a huge spanner into the catechism that prostitution is a manifestation of male dominance over women, that our clients hate us, and so on.

From Maggie McNeill’s blog post about Tullia d’Aragona.

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March 13th, 2013 -- by Bacchus

Today’s Beef-Witted Tyromancy

“According to our local spermologer, that zafty snoutfair wonder-wench who cleans for the parson flew into quite the pussyvan when she realized he’d got her with squirrel.”

Don’t mind me, I’m just playing about with 18 Obsolete Words Which Never Should Have Gone Out Of Style.

 
March 13th, 2013 -- by Bacchus

“Training” Penny Pax

It’s a frequent trope of lazy pornographers to speak of someone being “trained” to enjoy a sexual practice. Sometimes this might be something rough and BDSM-y, but often it’s just anal or even oral sex, which as we all know, a great many people manage to enjoy without any “training” whatsoever. Although I have been known to go along with the trope (because I, too, can be lazy) I try to avoid buying into it too much, because it bothers me a bit. What I don’t like is the implication that people (usually women, in the porn I look at) inherently don’t or won’t enjoy these things, and it’s only the man and his training tools (typically, a whip or a paddle or an inhumanly large and energetic cock) that convert her into a happy sexual being.

Which is why I laughed at a Twitter exchange I saw not so long ago. Some twitterer with porn to sell offered up this unexceptional line of porn selling prose:

Penny Pax anal babe is bdsm trained to take thick cock in her ass for our pleasure http:[link] @Penny_Pax #bdsm #training #anal

I never would have known about this except that some Penny Pax fan partially retweeted it with an editorial comment that made me laugh. The fan-tweet must also have amused Penny herself, since she then retweeted the retweet into my timeline:

@Penny_Pax “…is bdsm trained to take thick cock in her ass for our pleasure” Ha. That’s like “training” gravity to pull things to earth. ;-)

It says something about men (or at least, about male pornographers) that we’re often more comfortable with the narrative of a woman “trained” to like our kinky shit than we are with the narrative of a woman who’s as eager for it as we are.

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March 12th, 2013 -- by Bacchus

A Fetish For Papillae?

Vicki Chase wearing a ring gag and a tongue binder at Sexually Broken

Living as we do in the era when micro-niched fetish porn overlaps with extremely hi-res digital photography, we sometimes encounter images so bizarre that it’s impossible to tell what we’re looking at. Is the picture below (a tight focus on the same unremarkable tongue-bondage scene shown above) just a momentary fragment of emergent pornographic weirdness? Or is it a deliberate moment of support for the hitherto-unsuspected community of papilla fetishists?

fuzzy papillae on a well-secured tongue

Images are from Sexually Broken, where there’s no doubt at all that they strive mightily in service to the community of folks who enjoy bondage blowjobs.

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March 11th, 2013 -- by Bacchus

A Handful Of Gold Coins

The surroundings are opulent to the point of excess. (Have you ever lain upon a bear rug? It feels very nice indeed, but rather hard to clean.) Her cheerful smile as she counts that generous handful of gold coins only reinforces the impression of opulence:

nude girl lays on a bear rug and happily waits to be ravished (for pay)

The artist is Louis Icart, and this is apparently one of many etchings from the book Le Sopha.

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March 10th, 2013 -- by Bacchus

A Date With Three Pretty Milliners

So Charlie and his two cousins were dining with “three jolly sisters” in 1883 London, who were “as pretty and lovely little milliners as you ever saw or will see again.” Or so went the tale in The Boudoir: A Magazine of Scandal, Facetiae, &c.. It started as a friendly dinner party, but as soon as the gas light was turned out things got even friendlier:

Something in her deep blue eyes and look so fired his feelings that taking her unresisting hand under the table he placed it on his thigh, just over the most sensitive member of the male organisation, and was at once rewarded by the gentle pressures of her fingers, which assured him she quite understood the delicate attention. The others were too absorbed in some similar manipulation to notice Charlie and Rosa, as he adroitly unfastened about three buttons of his trousers, and directing her hand to the place, and presently felt she had quite grasped the naked truth, which fluttered under the delicious fingering in such a way that very few motions of her delicate hand brought on such an ecstatic flood of bliss as quite to astonish Miss Rosa, and necessitate the sly application of a mouchoir to her slimy fingers, as at the same time she crimsoned to the roots of her hair, and looked quite confused, whilst he could feel that a perceptible tremor shot through her whole frame.

Fortunately just at that moment Bessie turned off the gas, and instinctively the lips of Charlie and Rosa met in a long impassioned kiss. Tongue to tongue they revelled in a blissful osculation. He could hear a slight shuffling, and one or two deep-drawn sighs, as if the ladies felt rather agitated. There was a convenient sofa in a recess just behind Charlie’s chair, and Rosa seemed to understand him so well that he effected a strategic movement to the more commodious seat under cover of the darkness…

Google tells me that “mouchoir” is a loan-word from the French, and means “handkerchief”.

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March 8th, 2013 -- by Bacchus

Losing At Strip Poker

Here’s a visual guide to losing at strip poker — with style! She’s still got her shoes, her watch, and her hair ribbon; after those go, she’ll have to start paying in forfeits.

a stylish woman who is losing badly at strip poker

She may be losing the poker game, but I think she’s winning at the game she’s actually playing.

From Issue #30 of Spree: The Big Magazine For The Virile Man (1962).

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