Have you ever seen an explicit image of a female satyr? I’m not sure I ever had, until now. But when I saw these 16th century etchings by Marcantonia Riamondi at Sexoteric, I remembered that I had the whole set somewhere on my hard drive. And after much searching, I managed to dig them up. This one is called Le Satire Et Sa Femme:

A while after I published the ancient bit of smut called Signior Dildo, an erudite friend made me a gift of a book called The Complete Poems of John Wilmot, Earl Of Rochester. And, indeed, the book has a very complete feel to it, as one would expect of a scholarly tome published by Yale University Press.

I won’t say that Signior Dildo is the dirtiest poem Wilmot ever wrote, but it would be a mistake to assume that his complete works are chock-full of erotica. No indeed, like most poets in his age his output ranged widely across many topics, some of them impossibly obscure to the modern reader. But there remain a number of raunchy gems to be found in The Complete Poems.

My favorite is the dangerous Satyr on Charles II. Wilmot is said to have been forced to flee from court after he delivered it “by mistake into the King’s hands…instead of another the King asked him for.” Oops…

A Satyre on Charles II

In th’ isle of Britain, long since famous grown
For breeding the best cunts in Christendom,
There reigns, and oh! long may he reign and thrive,
The easiest King and best bred man alive.
Him no ambition moves to get renown
Like the French fool, that wanders up and down
Starving his people, hazarding his crown.
Peace is his aim, his gentleness is such,
And love he loves, for he loves fucking much.

Nor are his high desires above his strength:
His scepter and his prick are of a length;
And she may sway the one who plays with th’ other,
And make him little wiser than his brother.
Poor Prince! thy prick, like thy buffoons at court,
Will govern thee because it makes thee sport.
‘Tis sure the sauciest prick that e’er did swive,
The proudest, peremptoriest prick alive.
Though safety, law, religion, life lay on ‘t,
‘Twould break through all to make its way to cunt.
Restless he rolls about from whore to whore,
A merry monarch, scandalous and poor.

To Carwell, the most dear of all his dears,
The best relief of his declining years,
Oft he bewails his fortune, and her fate:
To love so well, and be beloved so late.
For though in her he settles well his tarse,
Yet his dull, graceless bollocks hang an arse.
This you’d believe, had I but time to tell ye
The pains it costs to poor, laborious Nelly,
Whilst she employs hands, fingers, mouth, and thighs,
Ere she can raise the member she enjoys.

All monarchs I hate, and the thrones they sit on,
From the hector of France to the cully of Britain.

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Remember Leda And The Buttsecks Swan? Well, here’s a more typical nude Leda from alt. binaries. pictures. erotica. vintage:

I’ve been stewing, on and off, about this remark by Mistress Matisse on the Elliot Spitzer scandal:

I’m amused, in a rather cynical way, how much more outraged people who aren’t sex workers have been over the Eliot Spitzer issue than those of us who are. I’m hearing a lot about the hypocrisy!

Yeah, that’s true. But that’s the way the game is played, you know? I don’t expect any different from a politician and an officer of the court.

I won’t flatter myself that Matisse had my particular outrage in mind when she wrote that. But I realized that I do expect — or more precisely, demand, since only a fool would expect it — a better standard of behavior from people whose political power, when abused, lets them destroy lives.

Upon reflection, it’s Spitzer’s habit of prosecuting people for selling the same illicit services he himself was enjoying as a buyer that strikes me as evidence of a substantial and public evil, out of all proportion to whatever hypocrisy may be present when Joe Citizen takes a day off from his wife to let Matisse smack his balls with a stick.

Although I don’t often discuss or encourage the discussion of politics on this blog, it would be wrong to conclude that I’m not interested in political power, and its abuses. And it’s important to remember that prosecutors, in particular, are invested with enormous discretion to pick and choose which crimes they will prosecute.

Spitzer’s enjoyment of prostitution I do not hold against him. But to me it proves, conclusively, that he does not consider prostitution to be a social evil of any great importance. Which proves, in turn, that when he exercised his discretion to prosecute people in the flesh trades, he was doing so purely for political convenience and advantage. He put people in jail who did not, by his own moral compass, need to go there, and he did it to advance his career.

That is hypocrisy, sure. But it’s not the hypocrisy I’m condemning, not directly. What I condemn is locking people up for your personal convenience. “Sorry, chaps, nothing personal, it’s not that I disagree with anything you did, it’s just that I’m on the fast track to the Governor’s mansion, and it will be easier for me to get there if you suffer. So, suffer, peons!”

That, I consider evil. Joe Citizen cheating on his wife? He’s just being a schmuck. There’s a big difference, and it has something to do with the fact that Joe Citizen doesn’t have cops and prison guards with guns to do his dirty work for him.

It’s the King of The Robots, about to get a passionate kiss from a woman:

Found at Urod.ru under the caption Старые фото о главном, which translates to “Old photos of {blank}”, where {blank} is a word I don’t know and which Google Translate renders unhelpfully as “main”.

It’s hard to say for sure what the headband and the wires and the radio controller handset are for in this Bill Ward cartoon, but my money’s on some sort of super mad-scientist mind control unit — being used for nefarious erotic purposes, of course:

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Camping in the desert with fetish model Adriana Sage is not like any camping you’ve ever seen. It’s getting dark when she gets to camp, so she pitches her tent, half-wearing a fetching rubber number:

In the morning, it’s time to haul some water. Nipple clamps are for style, we assume:

Then it’s out onto the sand for the day’s entertainment, with horsey tail buttplug and saliva-lubricated crystal dildo:

From the August 2004 edition of Taboo magazine.

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