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The Sex Blog Of Record
Wednesday, June 7th, 2017 -- by Bacchus
This made me laugh. Paltego at Femdom Resource writes:
Kink is about power, sex, pleasure, control, fetishization, danger, risk, pain and relationships. You know, all the really simple stuff in life.
For some reason this reminds me of Clausewitz on war: “Everything is very simple in war, but the simplest thing is difficult.”
Sunday, February 26th, 2017 -- by Bacchus
There’s a beautiful prose poem that’s currently going explosively viral on Tumblr. It started with a question about why kinky people start wearing their bondage gear in post-apocalypse media, and that triggered this wonderful riff on why you would want to be friendly with people who value consent deep in their guts and bones. I am one hundred percent behind what this writer has to say:
What I wanna know is why the spiky kink warriors are always the bad evil marauders. They might be into some weird shit and unafraid to show it but that doesn’t mean they want to go around killing dudes. They’re a tight-knit bunch. A lot of them are queer. They understand the importance of community.
If the government collapses and all laws come to an end, the people rampaging around killing and looting are gonna be like, frat boys and 4chan rejects. You can mistrust the bondage raiders all you like but they’re definitely the ones you’re going to run to for help when the neoliberal blood cultists and Nazi meme demons lay siege to your survivor enclave. There’s gonna be gayboy berserkers busting up slaver gangs and burning down warboy frat houses. The assless-chaps leather daddies and weird petplay people are gonna be the accidental peacekeepers of the post-apocalyptic world just because they’re the only motherfuckers who understand the importance of consent anymore.
Listen. Don’t come to me asking how to get the secret cadre of bisexual death commandoes to protect your wretched tent village if you’re scared that we might call in the kinksters for backup. I don’t give a shit if they dress up like dogs and spend all day writing poems about butt plugs. There’s assholes out there acting like Vlad the Impaler on a meth bender and you’re afraid of seeing a nipple. Fuck you. If you really want to get rid of the MRA death gangs you’re going to have to accept that a lesbian chainsaw dominatrix or two might be involved. It’s the fucking post-apocalypse my guy we gotta weigh our priorities here
Friday, August 21st, 2015 -- by Bacchus
Here’s a bizarre bit of old French slut-shaming kink. I’m not sure exactly what Lili is supposed to have done or why she’s in this pose structured for humiliation, but the placard hanging around her neck says (according to Google Translate) “Lili has deceived her lover.” The horns on her head are reminiscent of the proverbial “dunce cap”, but in this context, I imagine they may suggest cuckoldry:
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Sunday, July 27th, 2014 -- by Bacchus
Here’s an 8-century Irish king (detailed citation) doing a good job of sexual reasoning about a mysterious birth:
A woman came to the king carrying a boy child, and put him into the king’s arms. “For your kingship and your sovereignty,” said she, “find out for me through your ruler’s truth who the carnal father of the boy is, for I do not know myself. For I swear by your ruler’s truth, and by the King who governs every created thing, that I have not known guilt with a man for many years now.”
The king was silent then. “Have you had playful mating with another woman?” said he, “and do not conceal it if you have.” “I will not conceal it,” said she, “I have.”
“It is true,” said the king. “That woman had mated with a man just before, and the semen which he left with her, she put it into your womb in the tumbling, so that it was begotten in your womb. That man is the father of your child, and let it be found out who he is.”
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Friday, April 19th, 2013 -- by Bacchus
During the many years I have been a fan, Kink.com has added and removed dozens of kink sites and partner channels of kinky adult entertainment. Navigating it all on the Kink homepage can be a challenge, even on a big screen. If you hit their home page in a state of wide-eyed horny confusion on a little phone? You may have a navigation problem!
For as long as I’ve had smart mobile phone, I’ve found that actually using just about any website is quite practical, even if I have to do a lot of pinching and swiping to zoom in on stuff. But navigating and searching? That’s a pain. I can thumb-type URLs and search terms, but it’s slow, and it adds friction, and it’s not as easy to scan search results en mass for the things I’m looking for. The result is, I now value portal sites in a way that reminds me of life before search engines. A short list of useful links in a mobile-friendly format (one column, no sidebars, large print) is the sort of thing I’ll actually “bookmark” and put on one of my home screens as an icon.
Thus, Kink Sites. It’s a mobile-device-friendly launchpad to every website and channel published by Kink.com:
Want a Kink Sites icon on your active iPhone screen? Just hit that little “arrow escaping from the screen” forwarding icon that’s bottom-center, and then selecting “Add to Home Screen” from the list of options that pops up. If you’ve got the ErosBlog iPhone wallpaper already, it will look something like this:
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Monday, January 18th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
Bondage Blog has a great piece this morning featuring a pretty girl being shrink wrapped, in a latex balloon. In 1939. By a meat packing company. In the pages of Life magazine, in front of God and everybody and your prissy great-aunt Beatrix.
Granted, treating girls like meat was probably uncontroversial back in 1939. But what fascinates me is the fetish fuel question. In 2010, this is fetish fuel of the highest octane. Bondage Blog rattled off six or seven fetishes it touches on, and I could add several more without a strain. (Lingerie, breath control…) But was it obvious fetish fuel then? Was this a bit of clever marketing by kinky bastards who knew how to get a press release covered by Life, which in turn knew that it could publish the kinkiest shit in front of Aunt Beatrix and everybody just by playing dumb and keeping a straight face?
Or was it, in all innocence, the “gosh-gee-whiz this is how you’ll be getting your beef” celebration of marching technology it presents itself as? Were people really that innocent in 1939? I find that very hard to believe.
Complicating all this is the fact that fetishes evolve over time, and I’m not aware of anybody who has tracked those evolutions in any rigorous way. When did rubber even become a fetish material? (I know it was well established as such by the time John Willie started publishing his Bizarre magazine in the late 1940s.)
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Wednesday, November 4th, 2009 -- by Bacchus
I think the man with the electrified penis is asking a very good question here:
A Wall Street retiree wearing a red latex bodysuit and a black hood is strapped to a table while electric shocks surge into his penis. Talking to Daniel Bergner in his new book, “The Other Side of Desire,” the man compares his masochistic ecstasy to having onion skins stripped off his psyche.
“Is this a weird way to deal with life?” he asks Bergner at one point. “Consider the man who bought Mark McGwire’s seventieth home-run ball for three million dollars. Who’s weirder?”
Friday, December 26th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
Penny Flame, in this picture, could pass as the very model of a 1950s pinup girl. Could she not?
However, this is the twenty-first century, and Penny’s apparently a twenty-first century sort of girl. For instance, you never got to see the 1950s pinups enjoy a spot of husband-spanking:
And this sort of thing? It would have been right out:
And as for pinup-girl blowjobs? Or ride-em cowboy kinky bondage sex? Nope, sorry. For that, you need a thoroughly modern pinup girl.
The pictures are courtesy of Men In Pain.
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Sunday, December 7th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
Over at Catalina Loves I found the longest and most detailed description I’ve yet seen about what it’s like to shoot for Kink.com. Model Coco writes at length about what her first shoot (for their Fucking Machines site) was like, and makes it sound like a lot of fun indeed. These are just tiny excerpts from a much longer piece:
TC the director came down to introduce himself to me and told me to meet him upstairs when I was finished. After some inspiring words I went up stairs to make-up. Isis Love the girl that pretty much got me this gig, was there to give me a thumbs up and wish me good luck. This made me even MORE nervous. I tried to calm myself down. There was a girl was in the middle of getting her make-up done and so I sat in the little lunch/waiting room. TC came in and asked me how I was feeling and if I had any questions. I started eating as he explained what would happen. He asked what I was nervous about. I said “all of the people that are going to be in the room, the more, the more nerve-wrecking” He mentioned there would be 4-5 people in the room. That must have gotten a surprised look out of me and he said, “If at any time you want to stop then we will stop and go get a beer. No harm, no foul and we’ll still pay ya.” That was relaxing. Haha. While the make-up artist was doing the other girls face, she told me I should “freshen up” I looked at her perplexed and after about 2 seconds I realized she was talking about douching. I have only douched a couple times before so I wandered my way into the bathroom. MY GOD! There was soooo much girl stuff in that bathroom, from hair ties, to douches to self enema thingys and like 4 different kinds of baby wipes and deodorants and razors, shampoos and just EVERYTHING you could think of that girls would need. So I did my deed.
…
So I was fixed on my back with my legs over the arm of the couch and the Satisfyher on it’s side. I was feeling SO ready to come and SO worked at this point I was excited and nervous. After getting warmed up quickly I just layed there and let it fuck me and took it all in. It was pretty fucking rad. Since I come faster from clitoral stimulation we decided to pull the satisfyher out and let it hit me on the clit instead of being inside me. TC manned the controls and we let her fly at 1800stokes per minute. All hell broke loose. There was no man in the world that would have stopped me from my orgasm at that point. I was sweating and shaking and moaning and right when I was in the middle of my orgasm I BROKE THE MACHINE. It just BUSTED. I have no clue I wasn’t watching it all I know is I came then I looked down and realized it was broke. OOPS!
After that I was ready for another orgasm and I was running around all energized and excited because everyone was saying how sweet it was that I broke the machine with my vagina. I felt pretty cool after that like a rockstar.
…
He happily handed over the new magic wand. TC assumed his position manning the drill and I had the vibrator. I was loose and ready. It was INTENSE. I mean getting fucked and playing with my clit usually gets me off, but this was fucking ridiculous. Every muscle in my legs and arms started shivering and aching and screaming MORE MORE MORE. It was almost too much. I was definitely overwhelmed. It didn’t take too long after that to send me into a screaming orgasm. And when I say screaming, I mean SCREAMING. I think I cussed more then anything. “oh FUCK” seemed to be the favorite of the day. I got fucked into a jerking moaning completely earth shaking orgasm. You know the kind that make you wanna write it down because you don’t want to forget that moment EVER. Ya that. I even squirted. I got some on the directors face. I was watching his face as he was watching my pussy and the look of amazement when I squirted made me feel even better.
…
After I got my paycheck, I went to my car and sat there and screamed. Screamed from how fucking cool it is to orgasm for a living. Screamed from doing something I’d never thought I’d have the balls to do. Screamed from being utterly brutalized in front of people I just met. I screamed for nothing and for everything.
And that is all I have to say about that. Take it how you want to. I know how I took it. HARD FAST and WITH EVERYTHING I HAVE.
xo-
Coco.
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Saturday, October 11th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
I don’t do very many pure “go buy some shit” blog posts, because it’s very easy for sex blogs to go overboard that way. But sometimes I see something that’s just too deliciously bizarre not to point out.
Anyway, last night I went surfing to see what was new in sex toys, and what I discovered instead was new sexy stuff in the masks and BDSM hoods areas.
What caught my eyes in particular were these expensive, spectacular, and surreal leather bunny hoods, in black or white:
(Sadly the carrot dildo is not included.)
Continuing in the animal vein, check out this scary-but-very-handsome zippered dog-face hood:
You may or may not find these sexy, but you’ve got to admit they catch the eye!
Thursday, October 9th, 2008 -- by Aphrodite
That’s the only explanation I’ve come up with for the negative reaction to this very nice photo of Lily Cole, which is the cover of October’s French Playboy:
Go here to see a full-size picture, from Anorak.
The blog post kicks off with, “LILY Cole dresses like a nine-year-old on the cover of Playboy,” and asks readers if it’s perverted to look at women dressed as schoolgirls. Some say that it is……but, chaps, is she not in fact rather more undressed than most nine-year-olds would be? She is obviously lusciously curvy too, something most girls that young are not.
I thought Europeans were less squeamish about most kinds of roleplaying in sex…..and surely the schoolgirl look on a fullgrown woman is closer to kink than it is crime. I don’t go all cross-eyed and breathless over these kinds of pictures, but it’s still a great picture of a gorgeous woman and I’m just not seeing where all the fussing comes in.
Wednesday, October 1st, 2008 -- by Bacchus
Remember about two weeks ago, when I mentioned the new public bondage site, coming from our kinky friends at Kink.com?
Well, Public Disgrace is now live, and looks to be living up to (some of) its promises.
About half the pictures in the sample galleries are close-in shots of hardcore bondage sex in what look to be protected, semi-outdoor spaces. To be honest, those aren’t terribly interesting to me, because I have a harder time with suspension of disbelief, and so there isn’t a lot of newness there. To me it’s “just porn”, with (by 21st century standards) no particularly transgressive edge.
On the other hand, I find the soft-core “pure” public bondage shots to be more interesting, because they seem to occur in genuinely public settings, complete with interested onlookers:
I will confess I find the branding for this new site a little confusing. If the goal is, to use their words, “unique street scenes of erotic humiliation”, what’s disgraceful about that? If the fantasy of a woman in chains is that she has to do what you make her do, I get that she may be embarrassed or humiliated by the public exposure, but I don’t see any disgrace in it; to me, disgrace connotes an aspect of guilt or sin or wrongdoing or bad behavior, and one of the essential transactions at the core of BDSM is that the submissive is liberated of responsibility for the things he or she is “made” to do. Hence, no disgrace. Unless the disgrace is supposed to be in the eye of the beholder, the putative onlooker shouting “that’s disgraceful!” or getting violent, like this guy?
Tuesday, September 23rd, 2008 -- by Bacchus
I was reminded, Sunday night, of the strange way in which there’s no one truth about love or lust or romance or about anything else interesting to humans. The Nymph and I went to see Vicki Christina Barcelona, the latest Woody Allen movie. I enjoyed it right well — and Penelope Cruz is just brilliant in her role — but it also gave me a modest insight of sorts.
In the movie, there’s a love triangle that is brief, implausible, and complex. (“Complex” is my eighty-cent college word; my blue collar brother-in-law would be content to say “fucked up”, in a tone of voice suggesting an unacceptable depth of complexity but without any connotation of condemnation.) And yet, just as I was marveling at the very implausibility of the arrangement, I was startled to realize “no, this is just remarkable for being in a movie; it’s not the least bit more complicated than a thousand unusual romantic understandings I’ve seen people reach in the real world, or describe on their personal blogs.” People, real people even more so than scripted people, are willing and able to make the most astonishing compromises and bargains (physical, emotional, financial) in order to get the love, affection, validation (and, yes, sex!) that they need.
Hardly a deep or original insight, but then, I never claimed different. Still, it served to remind me of what I love about the sex blog genre (and to a lesser extent, blogs in general) — namely, that they provide a relatively unfiltered window into the inner romantic and emotional lives of a great many more people than we would normally know well enough (in meat space) to know on that level. And that’s just interesting.
Today’s example is an excerpt from Bitchy Jone’s Diary, in which she is talking about the big strong man she enjoys hurting, and the reasons he enjoys being hurt by her. That’s one of the categories of sexual bargains that usually overstrains the limited capacities my empathic sexual imagination; and so — despite bearing firmly in mind that an explanation of what’s going on for these people may not speak with authority about any other people — I found it fascinating and instructive:
I live in a small, papery ordinary house. I have radiators, I have chairs and tables, but these things are all built practicality, not practical evil. I do not have access to one of those fortresses built out of rusty steel columns where they make the kinky porno. I do not have a room with red walls. The only thing I can really tie Jack to and not have him killcrushdestroy (killcrushdestroy my soft nest of an IKEA catalogue interior that is) is other parts of himself.
‘Cause the trouble is, with him, resistance is fertile.
For all I try and say that submission and masculinity work with each other not against each other: that the whole world has got it wrong with its stupid prevailing ideology about which way round bondage goes. But, no one listens to Cassandra Jones, the world of people-tied-up is built for tying up women. Every guide book, every instructional video is about tying up women, pretty much. Bondage for sex means bondage for being penetrated. So what of me? I like it tough and scary. I like the great big man brought down, down, down. Works brilliantly in my head. In real life: hard work.
Because I like to feel a huge rush of power over a conquered kingdom of a man. But because I reach so high it’s so much harder to bring the thing down low.
Sometimes he feels unscaleable and more often *unbreakable*. And broken is a wonderful state. But so much harder to achieve when starting with an unbreakable thing.
There is that little moment when I hurt him. Right at the start. He makes it very obvious: He assesses what I’m doing and works out if he can deal with it. And he always can — always finds a place to put it — but right before that you see the tiny panic before he *knows* that he can. I’m happiest right there. The moment before either of us remember that he is unbreakable.
Not that I am not in love with that brave thing. That self sacrifice. Once I said to him, ‘I want to him you on the backs of your thighs with a metal ruler.’
And he said, ‘Fine.’ He said ‘fine’ like I’d said ‘I want to go make a cup of tea.’
So I said — more fierce, but more fierce for me just means my jaw sets a little hard — ‘And I want you to hate it.’
He’s rolled over ready for me by now, so he’s looking back over his shoulder. ‘Well I don’t expect I’m going to like it very much.’
And I swoon, there, at the stoic and the brave and the acceptance of me and the things that I need. But I still pine for something more fragile. For more doubt and fear.
I make him fake it. Make him ask for it to stop. Make him ask me not to hurt him. But that’s a level up on the unreality game. And I know that if I wanted it the other way he’d ask me *to* do it too. He doesn’t like pain. He likes being brave. I honestly don’t know where his desire to feel brave would end. Where rationality would take over. I’d like to find out — let the bravery drive us, let it set the pace, decide when we stop – but it’s a frightening place I might end up.
Monday, September 22nd, 2008 -- by Bacchus
“Google Suggest” Ignores Adult Search Preference Cookies
Google, as all sex blog readers probably know, filters porn (they call it “explicit sexual content”) out of your search results by default. They call this “Safe Search”, and you can turn if off by letting Google set a cookie in your browser. (Most ErosBlog readers have, presumably, done this.) No worries, it’s been like this for years. We’re used to it, and in many contexts it’s useful to have the filtered option.
Recently, however, Google introduced a dynamic on-the-fly search suggestion feature called Google Suggest. When you type Britney Spears into the search box, a drop-down appears with what Google calls “relevant suggested search terms” in real time:
Nerd response: Cool!
Sex blogger response: Hey, wait a minute! Isn’t something missing from that search box? Wouldn’t you expect to see “Britney Spears nude” on that list?
Let’s check. The list changes with every character you type, so let’s go “britney spears nu” and see if it fills in the suggestion:
Suspicious, but maybe all those “number one” sites are just crowding it out? Let’s make this impossible to miss, let’s try “britney spears nud”:
Whoa! Is that the sound of crickets I’m hearing? “Mom, Google Suggest won’t come out and play with me any more!”
At this point I hit the “Preferences” link and went to check my Safe Search setting; it forgets the “Do not filter my search results” setting every time I clean out all my cookies, and resetting it is the first thing I do after that. Nope, “Do not filter my search results” is checked! That’s not the problem.
And make no mistake, this is a problem, and not just for feelthy perverts like me. This is the sort of thing that sets mild-mannered eyeglasses-wearing librarians sputtering with rage, because once you start filtering out words, like “nude”, that do double duty as erotic signifiers and, you know, plain old information tags, you begin to muck up basic research of the sort that any high school civics class might legitimately be doing. Allow me to illustrate.
Does anybody remember John Ashcroft, and his infamous prudery that had him covering up fine art at the Department of Justice because the bare breasts offended him? Imagine you were trying to write a high school essay about public art and needed to reference that incident. If you actually Google John Ashcroft nude (shudder) you’ll get 39,000-ish results. But start typing that request into Google, and you’ll learn that while John Ashcroft singing “Let The Eagle Soar” might be relevant to your search request (with 10,500 results), “John Ashcroft nude” could not possibly be, even though there are four times as many potential results out there:
Again, we need to check to make sure it didn’t just get choked by having to select between too many potentially relevant suggestions. We can do that by typing more letters; “john ashcroft n” gets me “john ashcroft news” as the sole suggestion, and with “john ashcroft nu” we’re back to the sound of crickets. Sorry, seeker after knowledge, nothing with “nude” in it could possibly be relevant to your search, EVER.
That’s search engine prudery right there, and it’s as stupid and mindless as automated mechanical prudery always is.
Of course, I’m not dealing with search results filtering, what I’m complaining about is search suggestions filtering. But that’s a distinction without a difference, a nit only a lawyer could enjoy picking. Google already has a cookie on my computer telling them that I don’t want them to protect me from the pollution of my vital essences that is the adult internet; what earthly reason could they have for ignoring that preference in determining which searches to show me in the suggestion box?
Just to show the full ridiculousness that is Mrs Grundy as played by The Mechanical Turk, let’s search for dear old Jenna, once said to be the most-searched woman on the internet:
That settles it. The Mechanical Turk “knows” damned well who I’m searching for, knows when I’m two characters into her last name, but it can’t mechanically imagine that “jenna jameson nude” (with nearly half a million search results out there) might be at least as relevant as “jenna jameson neck tattoo”? Sorry my friends, but inside the amazing Mechanical Turk there sits a very human prude.
Again, it’s easy to imagine lots of good business reasons why Google might want to filter even the mildest adult topics out of its search suggestion tool. That’s not my point.
My point is that for many people, Google is only useful if they can get the unfiltered version. Google knows this. Google makes it easy to set the “don’t filter me” button. But what good is that, if they then silently ignore the setting?
OK, now let’s have some fun looking at all the things Google Suggest refuses to suggest.
How about a good spanking? That’s only about as kinky as six inches of your average garden hose these days, plus there’s the whole universe of information out there about why you shouldn’t do it to your kids. Surely Google Suggest has something for the spanking searcher?
Google Suggest says: No spankings for you!
How about porn? If I type “por” into my search bar, you think maybe “porn” might be a relevant search to suggest?
Duh, no, silly me.
Ok, would you like to look at some fine rubber nipples? Or, you know, buy some, for your baby’s bottle or for your plumbing supply store? Sorry, you’re shit outta luck — Google Suggest can offer you “nippleplay” (presumably because the guy writing the filter didn’t get warned against it), but the Mechanical Prude has never heard of a nipple that was relevant to anybody:
That’s enough for now, although readers are invited to find other, especially laughable “never relevant” stop words that choke Google Suggest. Have fun teasing the Mechanical Prude!
Wednesday, September 17th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
Bondage Blog, which can be trusted to stay on top of important developments in the kinky porn department, reports here on the newest project from Kink.com. It’s a public bondage extravaganza by the name of Public Disgrace, and it’s going to make a lot of you think you’re not living in the right cities:
Site goes live on October 1, but there’s a preview shoot you can buy if you just can’t wait.
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Monday, August 11th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
This could be coincidence, or I could be seeing similarities where none were intended. But I think one of Kink.com’s photographers remembers his art classes, and is laughing his ass off about getting this picture into a photoset (spotted at Spanking Blog) for the The Training Of O slave-training website:
Maya Matthews and Mona Lisa, separated at birth?
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Sunday, July 27th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
Today’s news in my mailbox from Kink.com is the announcement of their new gay male BDSM site, Bound Gods. Although the new site does not go live until Friday, the first shoot is available now. From my initial look, I’d say the new site may not just be for gay men, but could also prove popular with those of you ladies who enjoy hunky men in bondage, but don’t want the distraction of a sneering dominatrix in every photograph and video frame. I repeat, hunky men in bondage, entirely free of girl-cooties:
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Thursday, June 26th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
I just discovered that Kink.com has a “free hardcore kink” thumbnails page [update: used to have] where you get get a sort of running view of all the recent updates they’ve done across all their sites, with direct links into a bunch of the free sample galleries like the ones I sometimes link to here. Clicking around on that page got me this “fun with leather belts” image that I thought was visually very striking. But then again, I’ve always been fond of fine old leather:
From Whipped Ass. The full LeiLani shoot has a larger version of the photo.
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Saturday, May 31st, 2008 -- by Bacchus
I still remember thinking in my naive pre-internet youth that “kinky stuff” had to be a purely male thing, that “no woman would want that sort of thing”. And of course, from there it would follow that male kinkiness was a sort of dangerous perversion, if it could have no expression with willing partners.
Ah, how little I knew!
Of course, these days anybody who reads sex blogs written by women (as are a large majority of the ones that have, you know, actual words) knows better.
As pointless as it can be for a man to speculate or generalize about the complex mental machineries of female arousal, you ladies should be aware that we still do it. I’m not sure we could refrain from doing it, to be honest; if anything’s hardwired into male behavior, modeling and attempting to game female sexual arousal is probably that thing. And one outcome of all the speculating and generalizing, for me, has been a partial theory of what women enjoy about rough kinky sex, bondage, and BDSM — really, that whole spectrum of sexuality that doesn’t quite fit the traditional hearts-and-flowers romance model.
I haven’t got time for a thousand words, so how about a picture?
It’s from Sex And Submission, and the rest of the shoot has plenty of ropes and gags and whips and toys and power-tool vibrators and bondage blowjobs and complex rigging with pulleys and all of the other overcomplicated gadgetry that men bring to the hobbies they really enjoy. But this one picture, I think, captures the essence of what’s in it for the ladies. Sometimes (maybe often, but I’m still trying not to overgeneralize here) women want to feel like a strong man like Mark Davis wants them, wants them so intensely that his own “better impulses” and socially-conditioned docility are just overwhelmed by his desire and lust for them. And they enjoy the idea, perhaps embodied in the photo above, that such a man will simply grab them and do what he will — because for the woman, that outcome is the ultimate proof of her own irresistible sexual attraction and desirability.
Where fantasy and reality differ, of course, is that a strong man who lacks that much self-control is dangerous — he cannot safely be allowed within about thirty miles of any human settlement. But a trustworthy man who can still project that aura of dangerous uncontrolled lust? He, it turns out, is a popular fellow indeed.
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Thursday, May 15th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
One thing I like about writing a sex blog, in this era of increasing porn saturation, is that as the competition heats up, and production values increase, I’m seeing more and more porn that looks like art, especially from the high-quality porn producers like Kink.com or (for your non-kinky examples) Femjoy or Domai.
It used to be that a shot like this one, of Candice Nicole enjoying an enforced contemplative post-ejaculatory moment during a Sex And Submission shoot, would have come only from the studio of one of the “arty” guys like Craig Morey or Richard Kern:
My problem with erotic art photography is that, historically, it has tended to strike me as self-conscious and defensive, and in its defensiveness, it often grew boring. In its worst form, we get that endless flood of semi-abstract nudes that congest web galleries and college sophomore life photography classes. You know what I’m talking about: the curve of a buttock or breast, usually upside down or at an odd angle, often pressed against some random implausible texture like old roofing tin, presented in black and white with funky lighting so as to make the whole project safely non-sexual.)
Luckily, as the standards and technology of porn photography get better, I’m seeing a best-of-both-worlds convergence, with your favorite subscription porn shack pumping out art-quality photos of a volume and diversity and unapologetic lustful sexuality that even the best “erotic art” photographers never seemed to manage. And I love it!
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Thursday, May 1st, 2008 -- by Bacchus
This is a little bit gross (OK, it’s a lot gross) so I think I’ll just link you. Beware of festering zombie dick!
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Tuesday, March 18th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
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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Sunday, March 16th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
This is an oil-on-copper work by an artist (Adam Johan Braun) who lived between 1748 and 1827, so it’s from at least 180 years ago, minimum. If the artist painted this work before he turned sixty, it’s a cool two centuries old. Talk about kinky themes being timeless:
Found by a Spanking Blog reader in a European auction catalog. Details here.
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Friday, February 29th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
This has got to be absolutely the tamest / cutest photoset I’ve ever seen in the pages of Taboo magazine, which has been happily notorious for explicit bondage sex photography since well before anybody (well, it was Kink.com, actually) dared to do it on the web. But not in this photoset! Nope, this is just a fine lady and her maid, prepping for another hard day of languishing around the manor in outfits of loosely-arranged lace:
“Why, you careless hussy! You caught a tangle and hurt my pretty head! I ought to…”
The remonstrances continue: “You indolent wench! I’ll rip off your lingerie and slap some sense into your silly head!”
“Bah, slapping isn’t enough for course slatterns like you! Bend over, I’ll pretend to spank you with my silver hand mirror while secretly using it to peer at your pussy!”
And, then, inevitably, there has to be the kissing on the ear and the whispering of sweet nothings:
How else are they going to segue into the inevitable hot-and-sweaty lesbian makeup sex?
Pictures are from the August 2004 edition of Taboo magazine.
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Saturday, February 23rd, 2008 -- by Bacchus
From Bondage Blog. Commentary seems superfluous:
Saturday, February 9th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
There’s a video up at Atlanta Bondage under the title Can’t A Girl Pee In Peace? (Backup link.) I’m not going to re-publish it here, because it’s not, to my eye, erotic, nor funny either. However, it has some interesting social implications that aren’t likely to get mentioned anywhere else, there not being very many places that combine occasional social analysis with comfort in referencing a video clip featuring bare boobies and mildly kinky porn.
The “girl” in question is pretty clearly, to my eye at least, a model for one of the many porn sites that cater to the public urination fetish (subfetish category: women squatting to pee in the public streets). This model is bare breasted, smiling, and squatted-down right in the middle of some sort of street or public way (perhaps a wharf, or pedestrian mall). Here’s a cropped still from the beginning of the clip, in which I’ve highlighted the villain of the piece, to whom I am semi-arbitrarily assigning a male pronoun:
In the clip, he strides forward and kicks our incontinent heroine solidly in the ass, nearly knocking her over. The remainder of the clip shows her steadying herself with a hand, then turning and standing up to confront her attacker.
So, what’s going on here, and why is it interesting?
As it happens, I just read a piece by Chuck Klosterman in Esquire magazine about declining interest in professional boxing. As Klosterman explains it, people have lost interest in the sport of boxing because they no longer have a visceral relationship with the idea of hitting people or getting hit. A fine theory about which I have little opinion, never having been a fan myself of hitting people or being hit or watching big burly dudes do either one. But I was fascinated by Klosterman’s next line of speculation:
Now, I realize all of this is (obviously) more good than bad. I’m happy that avoiding physical confrontation has become so easy that I don’t even have to think about it. But I wonder: If the decline of boxing is the product of civilization’s detachment from physical fear, what is the accompanying downside? I think one possible answer might be a depressing brand of social overconfidence.
It is impossible to deny that the culture is coarsening. Everyone concedes this — even the people who are happy about it. It is now acceptable to say almost anything, about almost anyone, in a public space, and for no reason whatsoever. There is no line to step over, because such lines no longer exist. And I think those boundaries disappeared the moment people really, truly lost the fear of getting punched in the face. Americans have understood this intellectually for decades, but I don’t think we accepted it in totality until now. Adults are now so insulated by technology (and so protected by modernity) that the possibility of a physical consequence for any action is a psychological nonfactor. We have removed interpersonal fear from day-to-day behavior. Today, boxers are the only people who get hit for fucking up.
So, what does this have to do with our punted piddle-princess? Everything! His foot hitting her ass is a classic example of generation-gapped cultural conflict.
By my own lights, the peeing porn starlet was misbehaving. People who enjoy seeing girls peeing in public have a fetish, a modestly rare one. Most everybody else doesn’t want to see it, and they surely don’t want to step in it, or walk around it. At best, it’s horribly rude and socially transgressive to be doing what she was doing. Responsible pornographers would secure a movie set and provide sufficient extras to achieve the same visual effect without imposing their fetish on unwilling passers-by. And they would hire a dude with a mop, to clean up after.
I think it’s fair to speculate further that she and her photographer knew she was violating the social contract, but were sanguine about getting away with it. They probably worried about police intervention — perhaps they had a spotter watching for cops and ready to call a warning — but I suspect that it never occurred to her that any of the passers-by upon whom she was imposing her bare breasts and pussy and urine stream would take physical action against her to interrupt or to punish the imposition. People of her generation, or mine, just don’t do that sort of thing.
But our man (and I do think it’s a man, but I’m not sure) with the crazed white Einstein hair and the armload of files is not from our generation. He’s from a generation in which people cared a lot more about public propriety, and frequently took it upon themselves to enforce it with direct action. Doubtless he was offended by some half-naked [four letter term of derision] pissing in his path. Doubtless he considered he was doing a public service by applying a swift kick in the ass to both interrupt and punish the breach of the social contract. I have no doubt he felt good about doing it, and the way he stops and squares his stance after the kick suggests that he was ready to do it again if need be, or to stay and defend his actions otherwise. If we had an audio track, we’d be hearing somebody getting a piece of his mind about now.
So, who is really the villain of the piece? The pisser, or the kicker?
I’d like to weasel out with “a pox on both their houses”, but I need to acknowledge that it’s really not quite that simple. The trouble with enforcing social contracts with fists and feet is that social contracts aren’t really contracts, and they tend to get made up on the spot by cultural bigots and then enforced on people who never consented to them. (Don’t believe me? Ask Matthew Shepard.) I don’t really want people in my society feeling free to piss on my toes for profit, but I’m a lot more worried about living in a society where disagreements about appropriate public behavior get “settled” by sudden assault.
So, I guess my bottom line is, ix-nay on the ass-kicking. But I do agree with Klosterman that by creating a world where the ass-kicking is improbable, we’ve also created a world full of people who feel free to (metaphorically, most days) pee on your toes and tell you to go fuck yourself. That’s good more often than it’s bad, but it’s definitely a mixed blessing.
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Friday, February 8th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
This kinky anime cartoon with LOLcats-styled caption from Spanking Blog (post and larger version here) made me laugh:
Hey, if cute animals can talk, why not cute cartoon girls?
Tuesday, January 29th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
There are certain sights that convey more than they show. This one, for instance, shows Berlin and Madison Young kneeling attentively, and not overdressed. But what does it say?
It says “somebody is going to have a good weekend!”
Which, if you look at the rest of the shoot, turns out to be the case.
From The Training Of O.
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Monday, January 7th, 2008 -- by Aphrodite
 I’m pretty sure that picture is a photoshop job (remember, we don’t play the Photoshop game here, kthx). But I found it last night as I was looking through my folder of naughty pictures and it fit my mood.
The end of 2007 sucked. J and I broke up, for good this time. My mother is sick and I moved back home to help take care of her. Home is a small town in a part of the US where good girls don’t have sex, much less kinky sex, and there aren’t many good guys available anyway. I’m getting older and it’s starting to show, I have some gray hair and wrinkles around my eyes. Not many chicks can rock that look.
So I saw this picture last night and I guess because I’m feeling sorry for myself I thought, “I’ll never stand at that corner again.” I hope that isn’t true, I’d like my last time having sex to be way better than it was. But it could happen. That got me thinking about what I would do different if I knew a session would be my last time having sex.
1. It wouldn’t be a pity fuck.
2. It would need to be somebody I care about, no anonymous pickups or drunk fucks.
3. I would try harder, to make sure I had fun and that my partner did too.
4. I would try to make sure it was as hot as possible for both of us (like, being outside or maybe some bondage, whatever my partner and I both like and want to do or try).
My list isn’t very flattering on me, but thinking about it will hopefully make me a better sexual partner, if I get another chance.
What would you want to do for your last time having sex?
Sunday, December 9th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
People collect the strangest things:
A few fetishists have not only delved deeply into this topic, but have actually assembled collections. One such gent, according to Shozo Saito, the head of the Odawara municipal library and researcher into things sexual, was a chap who went by the nom de plume of Takishima Kinkaran,
Kinkaran was born in Tokyo in 1893 and could often be found frequenting brothels in the Hakusan area, which was established in June 1912 as Tokyo’s newest licensed bordello district, not far from the University of Tokyo campus.
Kinkaran was said to be a man of great personal charm, and one of his pet projects was to persuade geisha to contribute their pubic hair, which, he would tell them, he was collecting in order to stuff a zabuton cushion. Alas, he died prematurely of a respiratory illness at the age of 37, and it is not known how far along his zabuton project ever progressed.
…
Historian Shimokawa introduces a gentleman named Takao Hanada, who is fondly remembered in the postwar period for being the first person to organize wife swapping in Japan, and later authored a book entitled “Exchange: a record of certain swapping encounters.”
After a swap session, Hanada would sort the pubic hairs collected from his female partners and tape them to the reverse sides of their husband’s business cards. Sex-reseacher Saito says he was able to view a collection of some 150 cards accumulated by Hanada over a period of 10 years.
Perusing the backs of these cards, he was able to appreciate the wonderful variety of lengths, shapes and textures of the hairs in Hanada’s collection.
Hanada had collaborated in his project with a chap named Zenkichi Nagano, who at that time the fiftyish director of a regional bank. After going around and soliciting women at local drinking establishments with little success, Nagano decided he would have to change his technique.
“He went to bars and cabarets and asked hostesses for samples,” Saito tells Shimokawa. “After plying them with a few drinks, he’d make his pitch, saying, ‘I want your pubic hair.'”
Too embarrassed to do this in places where he might be recognized, Nagano would take the train one or two hours to another town or into Tokyo. Offering a 10,000-yen tip as an incentive, the gals would excuse themselves, slip into the powder room, and return to the table and pass him the goodies.
“More than just receiving money, some women saw this as forming a personal relationship, so to speak,” says Saito. “Perhaps Nagano finally got used to being treated as eccentric, or perhaps once the women realized he was harmless, they became more cooperative, they warmed to his advances and the whole mood changed.
“Anyway, it got to the point that a few gals would even drop their panties right in front of him and allow him to harvest hairs from them on the spot.”
Nagano eventually obtained 200 specimens, which he wrapped in traditional Japanese “washi” paper and saved in photo albums, organized according to the locations from which he’d collected them.
Nagano was said to have remarked that he never managed to have sex even once with any of the “contributors.”
“Somehow, I initially felt a sense of regret over this point, but now it gives me a feeling of pride,” Nagano supposedly boasted.
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Monday, December 3rd, 2007 -- by Bacchus
This quote is widely attributed to Eleanor Roosevelt:
I once had a rose named after me and I was very flattered. But I was not pleased to read the description in the catalogue: “No good in a bed, but fine up against a wall.”
Via Kinkerbelle.
Monday, December 3rd, 2007 -- by Bacchus
ErosBlog is late, as usual, with the kinky celebrity sex news. But it doesn’t matter, because there’s no particular reason to actually believe these sorts of tabloid accounts:
Britney Spears’ Mulholland Drive mansion is equipped with a double-locked, X-rated “Fantasy Room” filled with ticklers, whips and fur-trimmed handcuffs hanging from the metal bedframe.
The second-floor room also features a mirrored ceiling, a glass jar containing spanking paddles and a closet full of kinky outfits, according to an “insider” who stumbled into the den of sin.
“She wears Catholic schoolgirl uniforms, a maid’s uniform and a Cinderella outfit,” claims the mole.
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Monday, November 12th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
I admit it, it’s a fool’s errand trying to understand fetishes not your own. Too often it’s a hard-wiring issue: a fetish is a fetish and that’s that, no explanation possible or required.
That said, some fetishes are more mysterious to me than others. Take, for instance, the humble straight jacket:
Outside the world inhabited by violent inmates, the point of this garment sort of eludes me. Sure, it’s a bondage thing, a helplessness and (unless you’re Harry Houdini) hard-to-escape kink. But, sexual-fetish-wise, what’s the point of getting somebody all tied up if, once you’ve done it, you can’t hardly get at them?
And that’s where the implacable march of technology comes in. The world’s more intrepid sexual adventurers have invented what they are calling The Bolero Straitjacket:
Sez the catalog copy:
Sexy. Sensuous. Functional. What more could you ask for in a straitjacket? How about stylish, innovative and chic?
The Bolero Straitjacket is all of these and more in a cropped strait jacket made of high quality, light and medium weight garment leather, latigo belting and nickel-plated hardware.
Like a traditional straitjacket, it has a buckling collar and back closures in addition to the extra long glove-like sleeves that extend beyond the fingertips. The sleeves end with a small rectangular ring on one and a strap on the other.
The features that make it unique are its cropped length and the vertically and horizontally adjustable chest strap which leave nearly the entire chest and back exposed. The proper positioning assured by the cropped feature and the adjustable chest strap makes the traditional crotch strap unnecessary without sacrificing functionality as a restraint.
And just like that, boom! Problem solved. Erotic bondage will never be the same. Available in no less than four sizes for your binding pleasure.
(Sultry brunette not included.)
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Friday, October 26th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
The Nymph needs this on a pajama top:
Found at Kinkerbelle.
Friday, September 28th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
It has to be said: People are funny about their kinks. They want the kink, but sometimes they don’t want to own up to the sex part. They don’t like to admit that they do what they do because it makes them horny and leads to great sex.
In the realm of bondage, one way people sometimes display this curious hesitance is to treat bondage as if it were a sort of performance art. They wax lyrical about the aesthetics of the thing, do bondage displays in public venues with strict rules against any sort of sex play, and create highly stylized photography featuring beautiful bondage models like Roma, here, tied up with almost all of her clothes on:
Which, in my view, is mostly bunk. It leads to some breath-taking bondage photography, sure. But when a man ties up a woman’s breasts with that much care, it’s for one reason only. The reason? So she can’t bat away his hands when he does this:
Now, that’s what I call getting a good squeeze!
(Of course, those particular hands actually belong to Claire Adams, as you can see in the full gallery from Whipped Ass. No matter, it’s still a good squeeze.)
Wednesday, September 19th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
I suppose it’s possible that after almost five solid years of sex blogging, I tilt too much toward novelty and shock in selecting new material to blog about. Not that sex ever gets boring, but the blogging fingers can get jaded. Whatever the topic, didn’t I already write a post about that? Or three of ’em?
For whatever reason, I’m definitely still finding novelty in the transsexual porn from TS Seduction. Old fashioned “tranny porn” (conceived and presented as a freak show, with transsexuals as the freaks) is hardly novel, but it was always presented with the emphasis on “ZOMG, freaks having sex!” and never a care in the world paid to whether the sex was hot sex.
Of course we expect (and get) better from a Kink.com franchise. We see models like this, and we want to see some sex:
Of course, without some advance warning we wouldn’t necessarily expect to see those two sucking each other’s dicks, but when it happens, at least it looks like they mean it. And if that’s not sex as Bill Clinton would define it, surely this is:
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Sunday, September 9th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
In which Slave Barb seduces someone who’s not into “that kinky submission stuff” into letting her polish his boots:
“You are not going to the show wearing those boots are you?”
I teased.
“Why not? What’s wrong with them?” he looked down, turning his foot from side to side.
“They’re filthy and they look like hell. You should let me clean them up for you.”
He stared hard at me. “Look, I know you’re in to all that kinky submission stuff, but I am not. And I am not interested.”
“I offered to clean and shine your boots for you, I didn’t offer to be your slave or for you to spank me. Piss off!”
“Hey, I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t understand all the stuff you’ve been getting in to. It’s…weird.”
“Weird? Have you ever seen me as happy and well adjusted as I have been in the past year? No? Well then, I guess I’m just weird.”
“Do my boots really look shitty?” Ahhh, appealing to his fashion sense is the way to his heart.
“Yes, you look like a perfectly disheveled crack addict, not the dashing punk you’re trying to look like.” I smirked at him. “Let me get myboot kit and work on them real quick. You like how shiny MY boots look, right?”
He glanced down at my feet. “You can make mine look like yours?”
“Well, yours won’t grow a high heel, but yes, I can make them look shiny and pretty.”
“Ok. But no kinky stuff”
“Oh, shut up and sit down and pour yourself some wine”
I hustled over to the cabinet and got out my boot kit. Crap, why did I push him so hard? I mean,
yeah, I’ve had a crush on him forever — he’s had a crush on me forever too, but… I swung by the kitchen to fill up a little bowl of water to go with the saddle soap.
He was sitting on the couch and was fidgeting with the cork screw.
I hiked up me skirt as I knelt down on the rug at his feet.
“What are you doing?” He asked, dropping the cork screw and backing up as far as the back of the couch would allow.
“I’m pulling up my skirt so it doesn’t get dirty — would you prefer that I take it off?” I asked wickedly, with a grin.
“N-n-no.” he replied.
“Good. Because I wasn’t intending on doing this nude.” He smiled back.
I picked up his boot. Well, I tried to pick it up. “Look, relax — I’m going to black your boots, not cut your foot off.”
“Sorry.” He let me pick up his boot this time.
I pulled his foot towards me and settled it on my thigh as I knelt. “Hmmm….”
“Hmm, What?”
“I was thinking ‘hmmm… what a mess’….”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
I picked up the lighter.
“What’s that for?” He started pulling away.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake! Sit still, drink your Shiraz and be quiet. Obviously you’re not interested in what I’m doing or your boots wouldn’t look like this.”
I looked over his boots and ah-ha! A loose thread. I lit that Zippo and melted it off.
“Oh!” He exclaimed.
“Yeah. Oh.” He grinned down sheepishly.
I checked out his other boot and burned off another 2 threads.
Back to the first boot… I opened my tin of saddle soap. “Want to smell?, I asked as I lifted the tin to his face.
“Mmmm, nice. Much nicer that I thought it would be.”
I picked up my little brush, dipped it in that little bowl of water and lathered up the saddle soap.
I spread it over his right boot, working it into all the crevices around the sole, the harness and up the shaft. I put down the brush and started rubbing the lather in with my moist hands. I looked up surreptitiously thru my bangs to see the expression on his face. Bingo! A lovely cross between ecstasy and bewilderment. What have we here? I laughed to myself — a Boot Top in the making?
There’s a lot more, complete with flaming boot polish.
Monday, August 20th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Well, dang if my jaw didn’t drop to the floor when I discovered that legendary porn star Ginger Lynn has come out of retirement to shoot a bondage scene with Mark Davis for Kink.com’s Sex and Submission:
It’s fun for a number of reasons, not least of which is that Ginger is old enough to have developed that whole soft, well-rounded, mature / MILF-y look. Rode hard and put away wet? Sure. But don’t say that like it’s a bad thing. This is a woman who knows how to have fun:
From the Kink.com marketing copy:
Sex and Submission proudly presents pornstar legend Ginger Lynn in her first real BDSM sex scene with boyfriend Mark Davis. With much excitement and anticipation she explores her submissive side in great depth. Mark is tough with her at times and brings her to that breaking point where she struggles to fight through the pain and discomfort. But the pleasurable rewards and lovingness displayed throughout makes Ginger a very happy submissive. The chemistry between the two and the genuine reactions from porn celebrity Ginger Lynn is really something special!
Googling around for more information about the shoot, I found this, including some great quotes by Ginger:
“I’ve fallen madly in love. I have finally met a man who can keep up with me, who is my match in bed, and that man is Mark Davis. We met at a fundraiser for Nicki Hunter and have been inseparable ever since,” Lynn told XBIZ. “I figured if I was ever to make a comeback, I would do something I have never done before, show something I have never shown before, to express myself the same way I do at home. Very few men – none – have been able to bring that out of me the way Mark Davis has.”
“I’ve always been known as the girl next door, naughty-but-nice. At home, I’m sick, twisted, kinky and I have no boundaries. I don’t want to go into detail, but I will be living out my fantasies on film that I have only been able to do in my private life up until now. I may alienate some fans. They may be scared off, they may be fabulously surprised. At this point in my career and my life, it really doesn’t matter to me. I am going to do something I want to do.
“I’m a naughty girl.”
Ready for more? The Submission of Ginger Lynn is a 48 minute move, for members.
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Sunday, July 22nd, 2007 -- by Bacchus
This is like that hoary old story about the girl and the dog and the basement. Only, presumably true. (Because why would Dominatrix Next Door make this up?)
Yesterday a client asked me to smother him with peanut butter.
This was bewildering, but it was not objectionable, either. I gamely put on a pair of gloves, smeared peanut butter on my palms, and clamped them over his mouth.
He squirmed a lot and carried on some vague, muffled roleplay about punishment and begging. “Can’t hear you! No one’s going to help you! You’re just going to have to take it,â€? I declared, refreshing the peanut butter whenever it looked like it was melting down his chin.
He seemed happy. I couldn’t understand what he was on about, but I’m never too worried about a man whose hands are both free to jerk off.
Reprinted here as a reminder. You don’t have to understand a kink to be sanguine about it.
I’m never too worried about anybody whose hands are both free to jerk off.
Thanks to Spanking Blog for the link.
Friday, July 20th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
As any man who’s ever washed himself very very thoroughly in the shower can tell you, standard bar soap (I’m talking soap, regular soap, men soap for getting clean, like good old plain anti-bacterial yellow Dial, not the foo-foo stuff that women use that’s full of oat flakes and lavender oil and glycerin and lanolin and gentle moisturizers) can burn a bit if it gets up inside on the tender membranes. So this was a predictable result:
Next, we headed for the shower, which was our original plan. I had to brush my hair before getting in there, and as I studied my reflexion in the mirror, he prodded my ass with his entirely unlubricated, dry finger, which, you imagine, didn’t make it very far. He soaped it up and renewed the activity, and then soaped up his cock and plunged it inside as I bent over the sink. I could see both my pained and his ecstatic expression in the mirror, as he fucked me rough and raw with his soapy member.
It was uncomfortable – much like the way it used to be when we just started doing it – and even though I am quite comfortable with it after a generous application of lube, soap seemed to have gotten absorbed by the tissues or dried out, making it increasingly more uncomfortable with every thrust. I did try to breathe deeply and allow him to have me till the end, which he did.
We got into the shower, and after a few minutes I realized that my insiders WERE ON FIRE – at first I thought it was because of the roughness of the sex, but then I figured it was because of the soap, which is not designed for prolonged application to mucusy membranes. IT BURNED. It burned so much that I began to cry, got out of the shower, and placed myself over the toilet as I poured and poured water on myself in the attempts to alleviate the torture, all while crying the entire time. He got out of the shower too and squatted by my side, looking concerned. “It’s like having soap in your eyes,” I explained (only not quite SO bad). And it wasn’t a good kind, titillating, endorphine-friendly burn, like that produced by ginger. It was just a mean soapy burn, reminding me of Fight Club for some reason.
Thanks to Figging.com for the link.
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Thursday, July 5th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Some fetishes are out there, more common than you think, but you don’t hear much about them because there aren’t very many enthusiasts who are ready and willing to “own” the fetish when it comes to public declarations. The terrible beauty of the internet is that you don’t need “very many”, you only need one. In this case, Bitchy Jones:
I really don’t like the term piss play. Or anything ‘play’, really. Sometimes the infantilisation of kink makes me feel slightly bilious.
…
But, face facts — “piss playâ€? is a whole lot nicer than any of the other terms we could dredge up and puke over. This post will not be talking about anything *golden*, anything *nectar*, or frankly anything that makes it sound *nice*. It is not nice. That is the point. It is dirtybadwrong.
Which is nice in a way. But the other kind of nice, not the nectar kind of nice.
I love piss.
Just the thing. In and of itself. The hot, the salt, the colour, the smell. God, I love the smell. I love the way it works like perfume and the scent of it changes as it dries on your skin. The way it kaleidoscopes through different notes. It starts off light and nothing, then fruit, green apples I’d say if I was so inclined — and then it just gets darker and harder and nastier until it’s just dirty back streets and bad, bad things.
Everywhere you shouldn’t go. Everything you shouldn’t say. Everyone your mother warned you about.
And that’s just the apéritif.
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Monday, July 2nd, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Fans of the leading edge porn from San Francisco’s Kink.com have been looking forward for weeks to today’s grand opening of the new “reality BDSM” site, The Training of O. According to the promo material, The Training of O documents real, gritty, multi-day training sessions with submissive models, who “earn their stripes in erotic servitude” and “prove their determination to train by enduring grueling tasks of initiation.”
“Grueling tasks”, indeed! I am delighted and amused to see an old BDSM print-fiction trope come alive: namely, the huge and pointless dirty job for the naked slavegirl to perform, an endless round of weary nude labor with no earthly hope of completion in time to avoid punishment. This is grit you would not be seeing in your typical San Fernando Valley “omigawd, I might break a fingernail” posed-and-phoney BDSM porn. Here’s the glamor shot (from this introductory shoot) of a poor naked girl who’s been handed a shovel and pointed at a very large pile of dirt somewhere in the bowels of the awesome Armory shooting location:
Indeed, I was so entertained by this earthmoving project that I grabbed a few screen captures from the video. Those white heels and frilly sock-stockings are never gonna make it through this day:
Adding insult to injury, our unfortunate submissive is being made to haul that dirt quite a ways, which is real work when you do it with a shovel, as any former day laborer knows:
But the life of a slave can always get worse! Now the poor thing has lost her shovel privileges (my guess would be for excessive whining):
Does she look sufficiently put-upon yet?
Try not to look so abject, m’dear. Cheer up, we haven’t even gotten to the chaining-and-caning part, starring about eighty pounds of steel chain and your pretty bottom! But let’s not get ahead of ourselves; a girl who gets that dirty has to be very thoroughly washed.
A detailed story at Xbiz.com sets out the new site concept in even greater detail:
“It’s a startling site,” director James Mogul told XBIZ. “It’s ‘reality BDSM’ so that elicits a lot of reactions, and I think the content is super-strong. I would say it’s realistic in terms of what you might expect to see in an actual BDSM exchange.”
The basic premise of the site involves models videotaped over a weeklong course in submission training. “I’ve actually developed a training program,” Mogul said. “We take applicants and interview them and develop a curriculum based on their experience. Some girls we worked with are very experienced and some girls are brand new and I think we’re hitting a wide range of the scope. We are going to mix it up. The plan is to go with about 75 percent fresh talent and about 25 percent of the content will be experienced, known talent that we can kind of push boundaries with a little bit.”
Shot at the company’s new production facility, the massive San Francisco Armory building, Mogul is able to utilize several different sets to create a gritty, authentic atmosphere.
The spaces are beautiful. The decay is beautiful. It’s like walking onto a movie set all made for you,” Mogul said. “There’s really nothing that needs to be done in terms of the aesthetics, but there is a lot that needs to be done in terms of making production practical and that’s coming together very, very quickly.”
As always, it’s the aesthetics of the production that will set The Training of O apart from what’s been done before. Just one more example: Here’s Sarah Jane Ceylon in the handiest-ever slavegirl head box, complete with portable glory hole and cork:
Just the thing for punishments or blowjobs, or even for providing the peace and quiet a weary slave needs after a hard day’s training.
Similar Sex Blogging:
Wednesday, June 6th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Thanks is due to Fleshbot for attracting my attention to some old news about Kink.com. I’m talking about this article in the New York Times, which, except for one token sentence filled with gratuitous slams (“wince-inducing grisliness”, “morbidly eccentric”), is a perfectly normal and quite interesting business profile of one of my favorite porn companies.
Having commented repeatedly on the pleasure and the significance of Kink.com’s smiling models, I particularly enjoyed reading this passage, in which we learn that running a photoshoot that leaves the models smiling, and then making sure to catch them doing it, is indeed the explicit company policy:
[Kink.com’s Peter Acworth] describes the company as having a certain social mission. Too often, he told me, B.D.S.M. is conflated with rape or abuse. He realized early on that building a respectable company devoted to the fetish could help “demystify” it. People who felt conflicted about their kinkiness, as he once had, “would realize they’re not alone and, in fact, that there’s a big world of people that are into this stuff and that it can be done in a safe and respectful way. Loving partners can do this to each other.” Kink’s required pre- and post-scene interviews, like the one I watched Wild Bill and Adams tape, for example, are meant to break the fourth wall, assuring audiences that, as in real-life B.D.S.M. play, everything is negotiated in advance and rooted in a certain etiquette and trust – that everyone is friends. The company actually requires that each model be shown smiling during the segments.
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Monday, June 4th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
After some eroticized gardening, Farm Wife Amber moves on to sassing her husband:
And did I mention that beer bottle shoved up my cunt? My husband has this habit of leaving empty beer bottles in his office, and I get mad every single time. One time I emptied one onto his head, even.
When I complained about it one more time last night, he said he leaves them out for me to masturbate with. “Oh yeah?” I said provocatively, dropping my pants and underwear, spreading myself in a chair, and demonstrating exactly what he had described.
I don’t think he’d ever seen a beer bottle so crudely misappropriated, and he was quite fascinated. Sassy, you think?
Thursday, May 24th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Has anybody stopped to marvel, lately, at what a wonderful world it has become for folks with numerically minor fetishes? There’s the internet for finding and meeting (and fucking) kindred souls, there’s a growing “whatever floats your boat” sentiment among civilized people, and there’s a robust world economy for sex toys of every description.
And boy, when I say every description, I’m not kidding. The latest sex miracle in silicone is … well, let’s go to the visual, or you won’t believe me.
Behold!
Ladies and gentlemen, you are looking at the SiFeet Pussy Foot. [2012 update: Sadly the Pussy Foot is no longer sold. But be ye not forlorn! There’s always the Cyberskin Foot Job Stroker or the Belladonna Foot Soldiers.]
The marketing text is like a syllabus for aspiring foot fetish marketers, fascinating therefore in its own right:
The SiFeet Pussy Foot is the ultimate fantasy sex toy for foot fetishists. This size 6, 100% silicone foot is cast in pure silicone from a real life actual, beautiful female foot. In the sole of this lovely foot is a fully functional and totally fuckable silicone vagina.
This pure silicone foot is soft, smooth, and incredibly sexy. The toes are decorated with acrylic toenails painted glossy pink, making the Pussy Foot seem even more real.
From the toes to the heel and ankle, great time and effort has been taken to insure that the Pussy Foot seems real.
The feature that makes the Pussy Foot even better than an actual foot is the pussy located on the sole of the foot. You can passionately fuck the foot in a way you’ve never been able to before. It is the perfect combination of foot and vagina.
From the toe to heel the pussy foot is 9″ long. The ankle has a 2½” diameter. The distance from the entrance in the vagina to the exit-hole at the top of the ankle is 6½”.
Anyone who appreciates beautifully sexy feet should love the Pussy Foot. This silicone foot is terrific for massaging and erotic rubbing as well as for having hot sex with it.
This silicone sex toy is also a convenient practice tool for preparing to get hot and kinky with actual feet. You are sure to have your technique down to a science when you train with the Pussy Foot.
The silicone SiFeet Pussy Foot cleans easily with soap and warm water or After Glow Toy Wipes.
The SiFeet Pussy Foot is available in a left or a right, sold separately.
If you were looking for “the perfect combination of foot and vagina”, well, now you’ve found it. But it’s the last line, in bold text, that gets me. Left foot or right? Or do you want to collect the whole set?
Let the implications of that photo sink in for a moment.
I’m not going to pussyfoot around, here. (Face it, you knew you weren’t getting out of this blog post until I’d made that pun.) The pussy foot comes in left foot and right foot? Why in all the Stygian depths would someone care whether they are boning a silicone vagina in a left foot, instead of a right one? “No, no, it has to be a left foot, or it’s no good!”
But, in the end, that’s the point. It doesn’t matter why. With fetishes, there usually isn’t a good why. What matters is, if you’ve got a thing for slipping it to a pretty left foot, we live in a world where you can get one, with just a little help from your buddy Benjamin. Don’t let anybody tell you that’s not an excellent world to be living in.
Wednesday, May 2nd, 2007 -- by Bacchus
I’ve commented before on the strange labeling and odd packaging of transsexuals in the porn industry. And I’ve shaken my head at the odd ways guys use transsexual porn in internet games of oneupsmanship. But for all of that, I don’t claim to understand the “tranny porn” genre. And my bafflement is surely compounded by the fact that most of what I’ve seen has been poorly produced and badly marketed by pornographers who don’t seem to have been very engaged with the content.
Well, that last problem, at least, seems to have become ancient history, now that Kink.com has announced its new site: TS Seduction – Where Straight Men Take TS Cock For The First Time. It ought to be very interesting to see their special brand of San Francisco values applied to a historically neglected, traditionally crappy porn genre.
From the press release:
Leader in fetish entertainment leader, Kink.com announced the launch of their 11th all exclusive video and photo content site, TSSeduction.com, featuring hot transsexual women seducing straight men in the first site of its kind. With a new weekly video shoot update, the site boasts the hottest TS girls in action, dominating, seducing and enticing men into first time TS adventures.
Webmaster of TSS, Isis Love has been in the adult entertainment industry for over 7 years. She has worked on both sides of the camera and has been a model and guest director for Kink.com’s woman dominating men site, MenInPain.com for over 3 years.
“With one foot already in the door, I took this opportunity to join the team at Kink.com. After talking to the crew, I came in and directed some test shoots for the developing site,” said Isis Love. “I am totally excited.”
One thing’s for sure, when they advertise (to use their terms) hot transsexual women, they aren’t kidding about the hot part:
Monday, April 30th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Before we move on from hurting people (which is, after all, a frequent but not essential part of sex in this age of mainstreamed kink, and thus is theoretically only a peripheral topic on a sex blog) I wanted to share Mistress Matisse’s description of one of the hurty things “for pink bits” she keeps in her (ahem) little pink box:
A toothbrush. Toothbrushes made great abrasion-play toys. You may think, oh, a toothbrush, that doesn’t hurt. Hah. Take that thing and start scrubbing your clit, or the corona of your cock. Keep going. No, don’t stop. Oh, starting to get uncomfortable now, are we, smarty-pants? Too bad. We’re not stopping. Scrub, scrub, scrub. You know, you’d pay big money to get this done to you at a fancy spa, you should be thankful to me. Look how red and sensitive you’re getting! Have I convinced you to fear the toothbrush? Good.
Saturday, April 28th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
You’ve got to love any essay on kinky sex that starts out:
I didn’t just want to write a wank post. There are plenty of posts on the internet about how kinky sex is all whee and shiny and woah, just look at me go!
I. Win. At! Perverted! SEX!
I didn’t want to write one of those. But I wanted to write something that was as real and close and true as I could get it.
That’s from What it Feels Like to Hurt a Man Until it Makes You Have an Orgasm. (Thanks to Bondage Blog for the link.)
From the essay:
I rush the start. The shortest sharpest route to hurter and hurtee. Most often: hair pulling. I love hair pulling. It hurts, you can move the head around, it’s dehumanising. It has everything. It always seems to make the mouth go squooshy and limp. Open and aroused. That mouth thing again.
There is only one problem with hair pulling – aesthetically I love the shaved head look on a guy. It’s that stupid submissive+masculinity fetish I have. Imagine my dilemma. Oh, the quandary. Shaved-head vs pulling-hair. The trial of my life. Who’d be me?
Anyway, so if he has no hair or a super short crop (mmm, joy/frustration/joy), I’ll twist his nipples or find some other hair to pull. ‘Cause he’s naked, right, you knew that? I’m probably not naked, but probably not dressed. And certainly not *dressed* *up*.
Oh, and this stage is really *the* *best* if he is on a chair, in the cuffs and I am on his lap. *The* *best*. All interrogationy – and super hot to the power of motherfuck.
I like to kiss him while I hurt him. I love kissing. This type of kissing is compulsory. Some guys seem to like cold and calculated. Not actually visibly turned on. With me no kissing is a deal breaker. I mean that for real. I have stopped a thing before it started because he had a girlfriend who was fine with play but not kissing — or so he said — and that was probably a lucky escape.
Anyway that icy thing, that isn’t what you get with me. I get very turned on very fast. I am usually more turned on than the guy I am with from quite early on. And doing most of the panting and moaning.
…
I get a lot turned having d/s sex (that being mostly the reason why we are all here) on and when I am turned on I like to kiss. Mouth fetish. I like sticking things in men’s mouths. My tongue is my favourite of those things. These pain flavoured kisses while he’s *hurting* are the best kisses.
I like it when he screams into my mouth.
Like?
I *adore* it when he screams into my mouth
I often keep going with the hurting and kissing until he can’t hold it together to kiss me back anymore. Assuming he’s a submissive or a masochist he’s usually very hard at this point if he wasn’t already very hard, like, you know, when I met him at the railway station.
I often put clamps on him now and if he doesn’t scream really fucking loud, I take them off and put them on him again. And that’s really painful.
And then there’s the hitting:
The hitting, I think, is kind of the equivalent of your earth foreplay. It’s not instead of kissing or fingering or oral — ’cause I might do any or all of those things too. But it’s kind of like that. Another layer. Sometimes more than one body part is required — but most men have more than one body part.
This — I want to be clear — is where it is. This is the point where I know who I am and what I am with absolute abiding clarity. Whatever else I say. All my other fancies and frills. You could take them all if you left me this. I hurt a man and I feel the most intensely pleasurable sensations I think my body is capable of. There is no intrigued here. No one else could have made this of me. I live here. This is home. This I know.
I am a sadist. I get turned on hurting people.
I like pain. I like it quite simple. I don’t want to be distracted or have my concentration focused outside of my body. I don’t do anything flash. I’m generally uncoordinated and clumsy. I know there is little point in me trying to be all fancy with whips or anything too clever or hard to handle. I’m not dexterous. I can’t put on a show. I don’t insert things in his urethra or breathe fire. I don’t tap dance. I miss sometimes. The first ten are always practice. I lose my grip. My skill set is tiny. What I do is often unaesthetic and messy and awkward. But I’ve been doing this a while and what I do works. It hurts and it doesn’t rupture internal organs. It turns me on and I am now at point where I know that that is fine. That hurting men can be something that is decidedly not performance art and that is fucking damn okay. It’s sex, not cabaret.
Saturday, March 31st, 2007 -- by Bacchus
I was slow to notice that the folks at Kink.com (for whom I have enormous respect) released a new bondage site this month, which looks incredibly rich in texture. (Heavy wood, and heavier iron — these are textures, right?) If you like your bondage heavy (literally!) and heavily invested with a “Resistance is Futile! Escape is Impossible! Why do you struggle so hopelessly?” ethos, Device Bondage may be for you. Medieval methods wrought and crafted in an updated industrial steampunk sort of way make for an unforgettable combination. Don’t miss the (very!) pink closeup of the cast iron speculum in the same shoot this picture comes from:
And then there’s the heavy horizontal pillory found here:
We’ve come a long way from the “two bored porn starlets, a suede flogger twirling in a light circle, and a hank of clothesline lightly tangled” that used to be bondage porn.
Wednesday, March 14th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Say what you will, but married sex doesn’t have to be either rare or (when routine) boring:
We go through condoms like matches. I began buying the large packs – 24 is it? One pack probably lasts us about a month. I would say that we probably make love 4 to 7 times a week. Sometimes daily.
It can happen in the evening during and after a kinky session, or late at night, half-asleep in bed, always following the same routine – he wakes me up, half asleep himself, by rubbing my body, caressing my breasts and rolling my nipples between his fingers, pulling down my panties and even delivering something like a vague, sleepy spank. I expose my breasts, whether it means pulling something up or down, or taking something over my head and throwing it on the floor. I remove the comforter from my chest, to feel the chill of the cold bedroom (always cold) on my bare skin, contrasted with the heat of his palm and fingers. I slip my hand between my legs and masturbate.
Inevitably, I turn over, kneeling on the bed, with my legs wide apart, my face either in the pillows or next to his. He continues to play with my breasts, as I often replay in my head various master/slave scenarios, imagining the power exchange between us. I close my eyes. He would often put his fingers into the dewy, slippery territory between my wide-spread thighs – caressing, running his fingers up and down, plunging them inside, penetrating me roughly, firmly, confidently. Sometimes I would come right there, around his fingers – I wonder if he can feel the muscles contracting. Sometimes I would come from a slightest touch of my intimate areas, sometimes from the breast stimulation. Last night was especially “dramatic,” as he put it this morning. It was loud.
The night sessions are always followed by an intercourse, almost always with me on top – I reach for the dresser drawer in the darkness, feel the condom wrapper with my hand – scratchy edges, smooth surface. Pull it out and present it to him. Put my lips around his penis and suck on it as if my life depended on it. He would lift my head off himself, place the condom on. I’d throw away the remaining clothes, if any left, climb on top of him and ride him into bliss [his bliss]. He might kiss me along the way, or slap my bottom sharply with his palm, or hold me by my neck, which I find especially hot, or my hair, or hold on to my hips and guide my body, or wrap his arms around me. I never come from an intercourse, but I love it – I like it slow and sensual, I like it rough, I like it either way – by then I am well lubricated. Sometimes I try to clench my muscles around him. He comes inside, always inside.
From A Farmwife With A Twist.
Wednesday, February 28th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
OK, friends and kinksters, don’t pay any mind to the electric cattle prod. Sure, it’s in the picture, and you can’t put it completely out of your mind, any more than you can ignore the proverbial 800 pound gorilla in your china closet. But, as the man said in Airplane, that’s not important now. No, the picture is for all you dirty feet fetishists out there:
But what are you gonna do? How are you gonna keep a model’s feet clean when you’re shooting bondage porn in a boiler room? Short answer: you’re not.
Picture credit: Chanta’s Bitches — which is now a Kink Unlimited channel.
Similar Sex Blogging:
Saturday, February 17th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Thanks to an old friend and alert reader, I am this morning pointing you to the Marginal Revolution blog, in which George Mason economics professor Tyler Cowen wonders a bit about the porn industry. I don’t want to pick on Professor Cowen unduly, inasmuch as he’s asked the question politely and has attracted a lengthy comment thread that is mostly free of the usual anti-porn ignorance and bigotry (although the porn-is-an-addiction idiocy rears its stupid-head, and commenter Clayton Cramer does drop in to trumpet his longstanding kink-is-evil bigotry — but I repeat myself). However, Professor Cowen did disclaim having much knowledge of the porn industry, and he expressly invited his readers to call him clueless. With due respect, I’ll bite.
Professor Cowen, your post was a little bit clueless. I left a comment there, but it’s worth more discussion here:
[post title] Why Is Pornography Scarce?
Er, it’s not. Not even in the sense in which Econ professors use the word. It’s a glut, a golconda, an exploding cornucopia, it’s everywhere, it’s easy to find, it’s cheap, it might as well be free, it’s easy to get and cheap to store and anybody who wants any and isn’t terminally lazy or stupid already has lots, more than they can ever hope to look at. Unless they’ve recently suffered a house fire or a porn-hostile woman.
So, what’s actually scarce? New porn, fresh porn, different porn. It’s scarce because it doesn’t stay new for long, it’s scarce because ninety percent of everything is crap and so lots of even fresh-made porn isn’t fresh, it’s scarce because (short of stacking fetishes until you’ve got one-legged panty-sniffing midget girls mud wrestling with shaved sheep) it’s tough to make porn that’s new and different. “New and fresh” requires art, craft, skill, all the other things that are in short supply in any industry. And, oddly, unit volumes are so low in porn that art, craft, and skill tend not to be rewarded.
After noting with interest that Playboy is selling its entire set of back issues on disk for about six hundred bucks, Professor Cowen writes:
Have you noticed that storage is really, really cheap these days? Have you studied the durable goods monopoly problem? Once you’ve accumulated a stock of durable material, at some point you will sell off successive units very very cheaply. Have you noticed that costs of electronic reproduction — call it marginal cost — are really, really low these days? Have you noticed there is a massive stock of accumulated pornographic images?
…
Call me clueless, as I have very little direct knowledge of pornography. But I don’t understand why buyers demand such a regular flow of material. Why don’t they just buy a single dense disc of images and keep themselves, um…busy…for many years? I believe also that fetishes are fairly stable and predictable. You don’t need to see “the new porn” to know what you will want to get off on.
First of all, Playboy is unique in the industry. Most porn sellers don’t offer “a single dense disc of images”, or when they do, they don’t price it attractively. In my comment at Marginal Revolution, I speculated as to some of the reasons for this apparent market failure.
Second of all, there is some fetish drift. People’s tastes do change over time. Guys don’t view pornography so much to see the movie on the screen per se. Rather, they view it in order to use the images on the screen to stimulate the somewhat different movies in their own heads. Those movies grow, and change, and shift, over time. Some of the change is stimulated by the porn that’s been seen lately. But lots of the change happens because of what’s happened in the guy’s sexual life, or the new woman he’s been lusting after, or a random comment the hot co-worker made, or any of a thousand other non-porn stimuli. As the internal movies change, most guys find that the external movies need to change also.
But the real confusion comes next, when Cowen reveals that he’s really only talking about a tiny fraction of the overall porn market:
As I observe the sector, buyers cough up new money all the time, and they buy relatively small units of output, and at relatively high prices.
Please “splain” it to me, as they say…
Um, “as I observe the sector”? I know it wasn’t intended to be, but that’s side-splittingly funny.
The “porn sector” is notoriously difficult to observe. Nobody even knows to within an order of magnitude what the gross revenues of the sector might be.
But that’s not what’s so funny. What’s funny is an Econ professor confusing the tiny “observable” fraction of a huge and largely furtive market, with the market itself.
The people who buy new porn are relatively visible. They have credit cards, they make people semi-rich, you can observe the money even if you can’t see the transactions. Porn marketing — which is splashy and observable — is directed at them.
The people who buy “a single dense disc of images” — or who would, if they could find one on the market — aren’t as observable because they account for fewer transactions and less gross money.
And the vast, huge, horde of people who don’t buy porn at all — but who use porn, collect porn, save porn, horde porn, most of which they get for free over the internet — they are part of the market too. Hell, they define the market. True, they are mostly paying a price of “zero” (or, rather, zero-plus, the “plus” being the not inconsiderable cost of a good internet connection), but they are still market participants. To be honest, they are the eight-thousand-pound gorillas of this marketplace, stomping around crushing the dreams of the naive newbie pornographers who think “hey, everybody loves porn, how could I not get rich?”
So, to sum up, Professor Cowen looks at a tiny fraction of the people in the porn marketplace, notes that it’s the most visible and most lucrative set of porn consumers (the part of the market he can see), and wonders why that tiny subset with a market preference for fresh porn in low volume isn’t buying stale porn in high volume. And the answer, of course, is that people who want stale porn in high volume — and there are lots of ’em — can already get it in job lots, for a price of cheap-to-free.
Postscript: To the folks who are happy with their massive collections of older porn (whether they collected it the hard way back in the day, bought it on “one dense disk”, or, like most folks these days, hoovered it up off the internet), it’s often a mystery “why anybody pays for porn”. In Professor Cowen’s comments that question came up, and to answer it, several folks trotted out that tired old war-whore, the “porn is an addiction” theory. That deserves its own rant, but I did point out over there, and want to say here, that it’s a silly explanation for why people are willing to pay money for new and fresh (and scarce) porn. Wanting fresh porn, and paying big bucks for it, when you could have stale porn for free, is no more a sign of addiction than wanting fresh food, and paying big bucks for it, when you could have canned food for pennies from Wal-Mart. Are people who pay big bucks for greenhouse-grown vine-ripened tomatoes in January “addicted to food?” Naw, they just like fresh tomatoes, and they think Del Monte canned stewed tomatoes suck, even priced at three bucks a case at Costco. They have what the economists call a market preference, not an addiction.
Saturday, January 20th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
There really are some fantasies — even consensual ones — that are better left unrealized. Including this Catholic girls school bathroom scene from Alebeard’s Kink Blog, as (it seems) Alebeard now realizes, with benefit of hindsight:
I met her online in a Portland chat room, her pic was deeply sexy, though typically you cant trust pics, especially the sexy ones. But this one turned out to be accurate.
Anyway, she had this fantasy to get tied up and abused in the girls bathroom of a catholic school. She suggested St Mary’s academy on SW 5th ave where I take it she was a student some years ago.
Now, what I should have done was listened, agreed that it was a hot fantasy and moved on, but no.
Naturally the idea was for her to be all tied up with belt marks all over her tits and ass, clamps on and cum dribbling out of her ass, you know, everyday stuff when class got out and the bathroom filled with girls. She has masturbated to this image many times she says and knows just when classes will be on and the place empty
Somewhere in my shrunken head it did dawn on me that maybe if we really did this, police would get involved. She said she was tell them she had been assaulted, did not want to talk about it and would refuse a police interview. Somehow this seemed reasonable to me.
In our minds, this was a great fantasy, Reality however had different ideas
Let me help you with a few fine points in case you try this at home
1. Nuns patrol the halls like guard dogs even when class is in session.
2. Said vicious nuns have evil and cruel timing.
3. When a Nun walks in a bathroom and your cock is deep inside Tina’s ass, there is little one can do to be graceful.
4. Nuns chase one fast, even big nuns, they run in packs.
5. Nuns throw things, they hurt.
6. Nuns do curse.
7. When running without pants on through a field full of Catholic school girls, do not expect them to look away politely and not laugh.
8. When running full speed towards the opening in the fence line, look down to avoid tripping in a gopher hole and flying through the air to land on ones face.
9. Police have no sense of humor about these things.
10. When ones own lawyer spends 20 minutes laughing at you, its less then fun
11. Judges also have little sense of humor even when the charges are minor
12. Community Service sucks
I believe this anecdote also illustrates the wisdom of The First Rule Of Man Law: “Never put your dick in crazy.”
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Saturday, December 30th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
One sentence from the following caught my attention. To me, and perhaps to you, this sentence stripped from context seems almost absurd the first time you see it:
“It was garden variety whipping, a knife and sex as far as that goes.”
Whipping, a knife, sex. Garden variety. Picture me dressed as a Capital One barbarian growling “What’s in your garden?
It’s the “garden variety” that got me. I’m hard to surprise; that people mix whips and knives and sex is neither news to me, nor in the least dismaying. (But it’s not for me; I was raised in a place without much in the way of doctors and nurses and antibiotics, so I’m wired to react to knife wounds, even superficial ones, as minor emergencies requiring immediate application of disinfectant and bandages. Sure, you could have sadistic fun if you used a good old fashioned disinfectant — iodine, anyone? — but getting all those little bandage packages opened would kill the erotic flow, and who wants to find herself covered with Winnie-the-Pooh BandAids after sex?)
When you’re used to thinking of a kink as a point of departure, a “thing” that some other people do for sexual fun, it’s illuminating to be reminded that the “thing” is not just one experience oft repeated — it’s an activity like any other, with the full range of variety and differential experience and days when it’s wild and days when it’s mild and days when it works better than other days. Which means, some days it’s wild and some days it’s “garden variety.”
Now for the full quote, from this post at Magdala’s Submission:
“Are you too tired to hurt me?” I asked in a very small voice.
I don’t think the words had stopped being spoken before He was out of bed, the lights were back on and I was face down on my belly in the middle of the bed.
Apparently He was not too tired for that.
…
I think it was a whip. I think it was two, one after the other, front and back. I know it was the knife. I know the knife was not the blissful out of body experience it usually is. The knife was mean that night. It scratched and hurt me over and over again. It was blissful in a different way. I don’t know how long He whipped me first. I know He stopped several times and drew His finger along some part of my body. Following, I assume, a mark He had left upon me.
I cannot recall any words He spoke to me but I know He did. I know He said things, I know I answered Him. I do not know what those things were. I do know that the whip marked me and left it’s sweet, sweet kisses everywhere. I remember Him having me reach behind me and spread my ass cheeks wide for His whip. The damned whip that insistently struck me again and again in the same sensitive spot and not only did I accept it, but I held myself wide open for Him and truth be told, I desired it.
I remember the order things happened. Whip, knife, sex. I think. I think I came with His hand deep inside my cunt, His fist plunging in and out of me the same way His cock does. I do know that it never ceases to amaze me that each time He fills me with His cock it feels like the first time and each time, I am filled with wonder and happiness that He is a part of me. That it just feels so damn good. That it feels so good, so wonderful each and every time that my world suddenly seems manageable again. That everything just seems right when He slides His cock inside me. I think I sigh with contentment when He does.
I do know He whipped me hard, that He used me hard and rough. That His knife was hard, that His use of it rough. There was nothing spectacular, nothing elaborate. No dramatic restraints, no meticulous plans followed. It was garden variety whipping, a knife and sex as far as that goes. But something about it made it so very wonderful. If I were more arrogant I would say that asking to be hurt helped fuel a fire already burning. I know He does not need an excuse to hurt me or even a reason. It may have possibly added to that though.
Who would have thought that one little sentence would be so very difficult to say? Or that saying it would have such blissfully wonderful results?
Tuesday, December 19th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
For me, a Christmas stocking just isn’t a proper Christmas stocking if it doesn’t have some kind of sexy toy in it. Not even if it’s vinyl and has a heel:
So anyway, I had high hopes of doing a substantial and official ErosBlog sex toy Christmas Guide this year. But, sadly for my grand plan, I found myself responsible for some unanticipated family care-giving this December, and the big sex toy blogging plans have suffered. Suddenly I discover it’s December 19, I haven’t done any Christmas shopping at all, and the ship-in-time-for-Christmas dates have passed at almost all of my favorite online sex toy emporia. Drat!
However, all is not lost. My favorite online purveyor of sex toys ships so fast that there’s still plenty of time, if you don’t dawdle. Better yet, every year they have a “SeXmas” sale. It’s always got good discounts, too.
You can (of course) go kinky if you want to — how about a satin blindfold in Santa Claus Red?
But kinky is not required. They have every imaginable sex toy to tickle your fancy (or hers, or his).
Kinky not required, I said. But if it’s kinky you want, this place is the undisputed king of kinky. Forget crops and whips and leather cuffs. Did you ever imagine what you’d get if you took one of those paper Chinese finger trap toys and re-engineered it, using stainless steel wire, as a device for imprisoning penises?
Of course you did. Or maybe not. They think of these things so you won’t have to.
Anyway, behold! The Wire Cock Trap:
That’s not something everybody with a penis to play with is gonna want, no. But it would fit nicely in a stocking. And think of the the fun when he pulls it out and holds it up, all puzzled, and says “What’s this thing, and what’s it for?”
“Hold still, dear, and I’ll show you.”
Fair warning: you might wind up late for Christmas dinner at dear old Grandma’s house. And aren’t happy delays like that the best Christmas present of all?
Sunday, November 5th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
I love the vintage porn. And here, from Bondage Blog, is a premium sample of it: nice hot rear-entry sex on the bed, with a blindfold to add just that little extra touch of kinky spice:
Sunday, October 8th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Although most of the sex commentators I like and respect appear to have climbed on the “Fortuny Is Evil” fleshpile in connection with The Great Craigslist Sex Personals Massacre Of 2006 (I include without limitation Violet Blue (who started out thoughtful but is now namecalling), Mistress Matisse, and Dan Savage), I’ve been disappointed that their united condemnation of Fortuny has been intensely personal, without really coming to grips with the interesting question of what, in a rigorous ethical sense, his great crimes seem to have been. OK, so he’s a “prick” and what he did was wrong” (Matisse), but what moral obligation did he violate? He “sucks” (Savage) and he’s a “creepy guy” and a “jerk” (Violet) — all of which may be true, I don’t know the guy, but what does it have to do with what he actually did?
The more I think about this, the more I come around to thinking that what he did to get the howling mob after him (and by howling mob, I refer more broadly to others who have weighed in on the controversy; the folks I’ve quoted here are the calm and thoughtful ones) was he violated outdated and unreasonable social expectations.
Savage talks about “privacy violations”, Violet about “basic privacy and communication rules of conduct”, but neither of them come to grips with my point, which is that it’s not inherently reasonable to expect random strangers to preserve your privacy. You don’t have any expectation of privacy in an email you send to a stranger; or, if you do, there’s something wrong in your thinking. At best, you’re relying on their social graces — I’ll go so far as to agree that it’s polite to protect the confidences of strangers — but how many random strangers exhibit the manners you’d prefer? Not enough, never enough, especially not when something important — like your privacy — is on the line.
I am heartened to see some understanding of my other point, which is that a lot of responders to sex ads are misbehaving in various ways, and thus are exposing themselves (heh) to more risk than they are comfortable accepting. These miscreants (and I refer specifically to the virtual flashers who slammed the comments on my last post with “the slut was asking for it” self-justifications) seem to be the most outraged, because (like virtually everyone else except me, it seems) they feel their misbehaviour ought to be cloaked by the privacy-protecting practices of their intended victims, and they aren’t happy to learn that their expectations of privacy aren’t as reasonable as they’d hoped.
To which I say, “Waah.”
Violet seems to get this part, writing:
Think of it like this: when you upload a porn photo to Flickr, you are in violation of their Terms of Use rules and they take it down. When you use your work email address to answer an explicit sex ad, you are essentially in violation of your employer’s TOU. If you cheat on your wife, you’re in violation of your marriage’s TOU. In his “experiment”, Jason Fortuny violated several ethical and social TOUs that many of us accept as basic privacy and communication rules of conduct.
But not everyone outed in The Craigslist Experiment was violating one of life’s TOUs — I’ll even argue that the majority of the people who had their personal info revealed didn’t care, or notice.
I don’t, obviously, agree that Fortuny violated any TOUs — if anything, he merely ignored one of those meaningless and overreaching shrinkwrap EULAs on boxed software, one that others are attempting but failing to impose on him, one that he never agreed with and which consequently has no moral or ethical juice. (There’s a huge difference between breaking a promise and failing to behave as expected. The ad in question did not say “All replies kept confidential.” If it had, this argument wouldn’t be happening. Then Fortuny’d be the obvious jerk everyone says he is.)
But I do agree with Violet that folks who were using Craigslist in an ethically appropriate way — which is to say, folks who were ethically free to be looking for rough kinky sex, and who weren’t simply using their response as a vessel for their virtual self-exposure kink “because the slut was obviously asking for it”, folks who weren’t violating any of life’s TOUs, folks with nothing to be ashamed of — these people couldn’t be hurt in the Massacre, and weren’t.
Leaving my sympathy for the remainder muted at best.
Why, exactly, is everyone in favor of a social privacy rule that primarily benefits adulturers, virtual flashers, and other people who engage in online sexual behavior that they can’t defend, proudly and publicly, in their own lives and communities? Why is it so hard to understand that all online behavior is public?
Thursday, September 14th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Editorial Note as of 2015: This FAQ is obsolete in many respects. My apologies. — Bacchus
I get asked a lot of questions (both by email and in my comments) and some of them are Frequently Asked Questions. So, for ease of future reference, here’s a FAQ. Comments are welcome.
Erosblog FAQ Table of Contents:
Linking Questions: How do I get an ErosBlog link?
Moderation Questions: What happened to my comment?
Attribution Questions: What’s the source of this?
Advertising Questions: Can I buy a link or banner?
Press Queries: Can I interview you?
BLOG LINKING
Question: Would you like to exchange links?
Answer: Sorry, but almost certainly not. I don’t “trade” links. No, really, I almost never do. I link to sites I think my readers might like, and I encourage you to do the same. As Guy Kawasaki puts it:
I don’t get this “exchanging links” thing. IMHO, you should link to a blog if you believe it’s good for your readership. The other blogger should link to back your blog if she believes it’s good for her readership. In a perfect world, linking is about quality, not reciprocation.
A link trade offer translates to: “I don’t really like your site enough to link to it. If I did, I’d already have your link up. But, even though your site isn’t worth linking to, I’ll do it anyway… if you’ll link back.”
Sorry, but if that’s how you feel, I’m not interested.
Question: So, if you don’t do link exchanges, how do I get my new blog listed on ErosBlog?
Answer: So sorry, but you probably don’t. So many new blogs start strong and promising, but they fade after a few posts, or after a few weeks, or after a few months. Most of the “new” blogs I add to my blogroll have been going strong for a year or more. Otherwise, the link maintenance chore of deleting moribund blogs gets completely out of hand.
An exception to this is if I catch myself doing multiple posts about a newer blog. If I like your blogging enough to link it a few times, your blog will probably wind up on my blogroll. No linkback required, although it never hurts — nobody’s immune to flattery.
Question: OK, but I’ve been blogging for awhile. If you don’t trade links, what do I have to do to get a link on ErosBlog?
Answer: The honest answer is that you have to tickle my fancy with your blog. But I can’t define how to do that. I can, however, offer some “Do” and “Don’t” tips. This is not some dictatorial manifesto, these are not hard and fast “rules” I pulled out of my ass, these are just advice, heavily colored by my idiosyncratic blogging tastes:
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DO send me an email linking to a recent blog post you made that you think I might like, with a sentence about what it’s about. I probably won’t answer your mail, but I frequently do look at these, when I have time. It’s the best way to get me to look at your blog, much better than just sending a link and saying “Please have a look.”
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DO link to me. I know that sounds hypocritical, when I don’t do link exchanges, but it’s really not. A link is a compliment, whereas a link trade offer is a veiled insult. Compliments work, and flattery will get you everywhere. Plus, I do read my logs with great curiosity, so having traffic coming from your blog is guaranteed to get me looking at it.
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DO participate in the ErosBlog comments. Write substantive comments, ones with multiple sentences or even paragraphs, to distinguish yourself from the drive-by “Hot pic!” link droppers. If your comments are valuable, they will be noticed, and I’ll be clicking your link to see what else you have to say.
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DO make sure your site looks like a blog. Too much advertising (as in, I can’t find your blog posts for all the flashing banners, or the first post appears “below the fold” because of your “above the fold” advertising) discourages linking. So does not having a blogroll. As the adult blogging tips at Spanking Blog put it: “I get tons of link requests from ‘bloggers’ who don’t link to anybody. They use blog software, and they write something every day, but they don’t participate in the blogging community. They don’t link to anyone and they don’t have a blog roll. I don’t understand this mentality. I mean, why would you ask other people to link to you, if you can’t be bothered to link to anyone else?”
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DON’T (oh, please don’t) “ask permission” to link to my blog. Everyone in the world should already know that the fundamental root reason for putting something on the internet is to invite people to link to it. If I didn’t want links, you couldn’t link to me. If you can see me, you already have permission to link to me. And so, after the first thirty or so, these “May I link to you?” requests begin to look and feel like a sneaky passive-aggressive way of saying “please look at my blog.” If that’s what you want, you’re way better off just saying so.
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DON’T hope for a link if your ‘blog’ is a spammy porn blog with no content. I don’t have anything against porn, but most porn blogs are boring. If all you’ve got is generic porn thumbnails, tired porn marketing text (“look at this hot bitch fingering her slut mom”), and links to pay sites, don’t bother. Of course, if you’ve got entertaining commentary about the porn, that’s a whole different ball game. Blogs featuring high-quality carefully-selected porn in an intelligent way also have a shot, if the advertising is kept to a reasonable dull roar.
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DON’T ask for a free link if you know you should really be inquiring about advertising rates. Do you have a marketing program and/or an advertising budget? Is your site or blog principally for the purpose of selling something or drawing attention to your products? Are advertisements or marketing materials the most prominent thing on your site? If so, you should be asking me about ad rates.
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DON’T be a drive-by link-dropper. Link droppings are not attractive, and we try not to step in them. By link dropping, I mean leaving comments like “Hot!” or “Nice pic!” or “Cool!” — stuff that’s shorter than the URL you so carefully typed into the box provided. Lots of new bloggers do this; it’s the lazy spam version of the “Do participate in the comments” advice above. Trouble is, once you are in my head as a spamming link dropper, the odds of me ever visiting your site (much less linking to it) decline toward zero. Good comments usually take the form of short paragraphs, not sentence fragments.
COMMENT MODERATION
Question: Why did you delete/moderate my comment?
Answer: Most likely because you weren’t nice. I ask ErosBlog commenters to be civil, friendly, polite, nice. And I enforce that. We don’t welcome flaming, aggressive debating style, snark, or even strong sarcasm. Yes, I do break these rules myself, sometimes. But I live here.
You may also have been moderated for substance (or, more usually, lack of it.) If your comment was condemning any sexual practice or kink, suggesting that anybody or anything is “sick”, calling anybody names, saying something rude about someone’s physical appearance, inviting people to visit your own website, or saying anything at all that’s got nothing to do with the post the comment is made under, that would explain why you don’t see it.
Sharing your fanciful sexual intentions (“I’d like to jump her bones, heh heh”) is another good way to get your comment moderated, especially when done crudely. (Explanation) Also, we don’t play the “Is it real or is it Photoshop?” game here, because (a) comments that a photo is not real tend to expressly or implicitly imply that the commenter is smarter and more perceptive than whoever posted the photo, which is rude, and (b) such comments lead to flamewars because everybody has an opinion, but nobody has any data. Even a friendly reservation (“I’m not sure if that’s real, but if it is…”) will often get moderated, because it invites twenty-seven unwelcome comments on the “real or Photoshop” topic.)
Here are some posts I’ve made over the years about my moderation policy:
Don’t Be A Dick
Condemnators Redux
Crapping All Over Beauty
Sure Cure For Spammers
A Note For Our New Spammers (by Aphrodite)
Blogging Without Comments
Cracking Down On Handcrafted Comment Spam
Spam Robot Finally Rolls 00 Versus Turing
Trying Harder At The Turing Test
Civilization, Assholes, and Internet Communities
ATTRIBUTION QUESTIONS
Question: Where did you find the picture you just posted? Is there a link? What’s the source of this?
Answer: I actually get a little offended by these questions, and they usually don’t make it through moderation. Since October of 2002 I’ve been faithfully posting and linking. If I know the source of something, I post the link. Without fail. Either the link where I got it, or the original source (if I know it) plus a link to where I found it. Every. Damned. Time.
You don’t see a link? It’s because I don’t freakin’ have one.
How is that possible? Well, let’s see. First of all, people mail me stuff and ask not to be credited. Or, there’s the fact that I’ve been downloading dirty pictures from Usenet and the web since about 1994. Right-click-and-save-to-hard-drive has been a reflex for more than a decade. These days, if I think “I’m gonna blog this” I’ll make sure to save source info too, but that doesn’t help with the half million images I accumulated before I started blogging.
If there’s no link provided, it’s because I don’t have one. OK?
Question: Do you know where I can find more pictures like the one you posted?
Answer: No. If I did, there’d probably be a link. Otherwise, Google is your friend.
Question: Will you please email me some porn?
Answer: Hell no. Use Google. Sheesh! (I actually get this one at least once a week.)
ADVERTISING INQUIRIES
Question: Can I buy a link or a banner?
Answer: Sure! Just drop me an email with the site you’d like to advertise, and I’ll send you a rate sheet. Or just check the sidebars for “your ad here” style links — more and more of my advertising space is being sold through brokers these days. The exception is probably text links. For these, please be prepared to buy at least six months of advertising at a time, and to pay in advance at rates that exceed the cost of brokered banner space. If you’re selling sex-negative or dangerous or worthless crap — herbal penis pills, breast enlargement creme, porn for the audience that despises women — please don’t bother. And don’t even ask if you want to buy generic “keyword” anchor text; I don’t blind link my users to random destinations for any price, and “sex toys” or “free cams” doesn’t tell them enough about where they are going. You’ll probably need to put your brand somewhere in the link, so the link looks like the kind of links human beings actually post and use.
Question: Would you like to join my affiliate program and then put up my banner for free?
Answer: Almost certainly not. Most affiliate programs suck, especially the cookie-cutter ones that use “standard” affiliate software. The stats reporting is bad, the percentage paid is bad, the affiliate program software is rude or clueless or tailored for non-adult sites, the terms of service are ridiculous and one-sided or unfit for bloggers, or the product is bad.
On the other hand, there are a handful of adult businesses that have unique products, great customer service, a sex-positive attitude, a strong brand or reputation — if that describes your company, and you have an affiliate-friendly program too, by all means let me know about it. If, however, you’ve already asked and the response you got was a link to this FAQ, it’s because your program is covered by the paragraph above.
Question: Can I buy a blog post talking about my site / product / event / whatever?
Answer: Email me. It’s possible. But it’s not cheap, and there’s always an identifying “sponsored post” banner so readers will know what’s going on. I won’t shill for your product and pretend I’m just blogging normally; that’s not an advertising service that ErosBlog will provide.
Question: Would you like to review my product?
Answer: If it’s a virtual / downloadable thing, no. There’s just no time, and it amounts to unpaid work for me.
However, if it’s a physical thing (a sex toy, DVD, book, or whatever) you might have a shot. The Nymph and I enjoy getting free stuff in the mail. Reviews are not guaranteed, but if you do get one, you can count on it taking forever. I’d guess we (eventually) review about twenty percent of the stuff that gets sent for review, so you’re taking a chance. Email for the review item shipping address. [2012 update: We do almost no reviews now. But we still like to play with free sex toys if they are sufficiently unique. And there’s always that chance that you’ll get a mention if your product is sufficiently impressive. So, sending review stuff is almost certainly a losing game, but if you’re an optimist or really confident about your product, it might be worth a try.]
PRESS INQUIRIES AND INTERVIEWS
Question: I’d like to interview you for my blog or publication. Is that possible?
Answer: Sure. Email me. But before you contact me, you might want to have a look at the interviews I’ve already given:
Interview With Bacchus (Sunni’s Salon)
The Buccaneer of Bacchanalia (Susie Bright)
Understanding Humankind (Atrocidades)
Revision History:
9/14/06 – FAQ first published
10/16/06 – added sentence about moderation of feedback on photos
10/24/06 – added sentences about prohibition on “real or Photoshop” game
7/20/07 – added Guy Kawasaki link exchange quote
3/6/12 – numerous updates
Tuesday, September 5th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Wow, is this kinky or what?
On wednesday, I will walk up to one end of a long line of men. Sometimes there are women, but it’s always mostly men. They are there to watch me, and I am there to be watched. I start at one end, smile at the first man I encounter, and begin. Slowly. Carefully, I take off my glasses and fold them neatly, just like my nighttime bedroom ritual. Then I lean over and unzip one long black platform boot, and then the other. I present each piece of footwear as proof — as if the sudden shortness in my height, and its message of vulnerability isn’t evidence enough. I am now smaller, more feminine, and a little more helpless. I take off my earrings, my necklace, deliberately placing the girlish silver with my glasses. I’m usually still smiling now, because it’s time to take off my belt. I know what’s going to happen. I unbuckle the metal and leather, sliding the belt through its loops around my waist, which serves to loosen my pants and move the denim to and fro as I work the belt free. The top straps of my g-string always peek out; I can’t help this. I unzip my hoodie and peel it off, revealing the light cotton tank top I always wear. And even though it makes no sense, I always take off my stripey arm warmers, because if I don’t, they *make me* take them off. So I do it in a subtly slow demonstration, one opera-length glovelet at a time. Next, and last, I unclip my hair, letting my almost waist-length black and blonde locks down over my now-bare shoulders and arms.
They all watch. Then I wait for their commands, and their approval. I do what they say, unconditionally, and this is an unspoken agreement between me and the men. Hardly a word is said, and I make sure to smile as I softly pad past all eyes, which are on me, even if just for a flicker or two. Then at the end of the line, I slowly dress — I like to take my time putting my clothes back on.
That’s Violet Blue — well, anybody, really — going through airport security. As she explains:
[W]hat I related to you above is very much my experience when I go through security…. [W]hen you think about it, the modern process of going through pre-boarding security has far more kinky sexual elements than it should. Here’s why:
* You have to undress.
* While you undress, you are being watched and sized up.
* It’s a power-exchange scenario.
* Lots of uniforms.
* You are totally vulnerable, and it is humiliating.
* You are exposing intimate details of your person and dress in front of dozens of strangers.
* Your submission is unspoken, it is a rule, and it is unconditional. Your submission is for public consumption.
* There is a constant threat that a stranger will touch you. They can touch you anywhere, and in your most intimate places if they want to.
* There is an undercurrent and tension that they will open your posessions and touch your private items, such as your underwear, clean or dirty.
* It is nonconsensual. And in garden-variety BDSM practice, even this is forbidden territory.
As well it should be, in BDSM and at the airport.
Wednesday, August 30th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Here’s a fun article that may be of use to a number of you ladies: Miss Vanilla’s Guide to Being A Mistress. It’s a sort of Intro To Femdom 101:
I call it “Miss Vanilla’s” guide because I really want to give people who don’t consider themselves kinky a chance to enjoy this. When I first started getting into it, I was awfully confused and intimidated by the idea of being “dominant.” Would I lose my femininity? Would it make my man less masculine? Would it sour our non-sexual relationship? I will approach all of this from the perspective of someone beginning anew, as best as I can.
…
Techniques! What are some fun ways to let your man know that you’re in control?
“Bondage”. One of the easiest ways to get started is by tying him up. Pros: He’s physically helpless, so you get to focus on breaking his will with your sexiness. Cons: His hands aren’t free, so you have to take a very active role – you can’t easily kill time telling him to pleasure you with his hands!
…
“Pleasure overload.” Let’s face it: Your man thinks you’re hot. Now you’re going to use that to your utter advantage! Make him DESPERATE. Caress his entire body – with your fingers, your tongue, or your feet! Trace your fingertips up his inner thighs. Trace spirals around his penis but don’t touch it yet. Tease his butt, if you’re into that kind of thing (more on that later). Lick, suck and bite his nipples. Tease his dick with your mouth. Exhale deeply into his ear, and suck his earlobes. Be sexy, and he WILL be yours!
Monday, August 28th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
It sounds like this guy had a really good weekend — the toe sucking and fucking being only one of his highlights:
And then my date showed me a trick that was, well, a bit stupefying.
So at some point during the second round of sex, she gets up in a Reverse Cowgirl position, and bends down to A) give me a good view, and B) suck my toes while she fucks me. For those of you not into Shrimping, I don’t know how you can’t love it. A toe suck & cock stimulation combo is almost too much for my nervous system. I’ve had this before, but it’s a rare treat. My date, however, felt the need to show me that despite my travels and adventures, I have not seen it all.
She dismounts, turns around, and lowers her cunt onto my toes — Ummm.. ok. She starts fucking my big toe and lowers her head down to start sucking my cock. My toes were already electrified from the sucking — so I loved how her wet pussy felt all over my feet, and her face dropping all the way down to my pubic bone, burying my cock in her throat… I was just stupid with glee. This felt so good, so amazing, I simply can’t describe it. All the wires were shorting out. Loved it. And she was pretty pleased to have thrown me something new.
Tuesday, August 22nd, 2006 -- by Bacchus
I do so love porn that tells a story, don’t you? Here’s the lovely bondage model Star, looking at a Hogtied.com photographer with what can only be described as gentle scepticism. I imagine he’s telling her what they are going to do on today’s shoot:
Fast forward several steps — hey, look at porn your own self if you want the whole story — and we find lovely Star on a soft bed in her ball gag and head harness. Very peaceful, very calm, only… does it look to you like she might be a little wide-eyed? Is that a bunny-in-the-road look, would you say?
It turns out, she has good reason to stay very still.
There’s a rope, you see. (Could this be bondage porn without a rope?) One end’s tied to the back of her head harness. The other? Well, turns out it’s tied to, um, er… well, I’m afraid there’s really no way to put this gently. It’s tied to a stainless steel butt hook. Which goes… exactly where you are afraid it goes. See for yourself. See?
So now, a great many of us can go on about our daily duties while knowing more about the depths of human kinkiness and perversity than we knew when we woke up this morning. And if you get bored sitting at your desk today, just nod your head a little bit and try to imagine how it would feel at the other end of the rope.
Similar Sex Blogging:
Monday, June 19th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Though ErosBlog has a firm policy against picking on anybody’s kink, we reserve the right to marvel at some of them. And one of the kinks I marvel at sometimes is the insertion of really big stuff where you wouldn’t think it should oughta fit. Case in point: The Sumo Rustler five-and-a-half-pound vinyl dildo:
Note the two-liter soda bottle included for scale.
Me, I think the thing would make a most excellent paperweight. If I worked in a cubie farm, I’d keep it on top of the papers in my inbox. You want to leave me more work in my in basket? First, grasp the cock firmly between thumb and four fingers….
Monday, April 10th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
I know a number of ladies who are fascinated by the appearance and concept of the corset, but are intimidated by the sheer engineering and historical mystique of the things. Thus, when I stumbled over this no-nonsense basic guide to corsets by Am from Our Kinky Blog, I thought it might be worth sharing. Think of it as me just doing my little bit to help exaggerate the curvatures of English-speaking womanhood:
[Corsets] are incredibly comfortable to wear, so long as you take a bit of time in getting to know your corset, and letting it get to know you. A corset, like shoes, becomes more comfortable with wear; and – again like shoes – needs to adjust to your shape.
Similar Sex Blogging:
Tuesday, April 4th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Oh, my. I was checking out a favorite place to shop for sex toys when I noticed they sell fitted leather sheets. King sized ones, even, if you’ve got the simoleans for it:
Leather freakin’ sheets. Just the feel would be sensuous enough. But as you and yours get all hot and sweaty and those sheets start to moisten and warm up, the room would fill with that lovely leather smell, and it would get all over the both of you, too. You’d be buried in the scent of leather.
Can you imagine? Breathe…. Mmmmmm.
Not cheap, no indeedy not. But I think I might just have to get me some.
Similar Sex Blogging:
Sunday, March 19th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
I’ve commented before (most notably in the comments to this post about the production of spanking porn) that I don’t have much time for so-called feminists who can’t respect a woman’s sexual decisions. When feminists stop standing up for the choices women make, I stop recognizing them as feminists, it’s that simple.
Thus there’s some interest to be found in this Spanking and Feminism thread over at Spanking Blog. The post itself chides kinky men who won’t take ownership of their kinkiness, who can’t admit they want to spank and dominate for the fun of it, so they instead pretend (to themselves and to the world) that the women they are spanking are weak inferior creatures who would be lost without the “guidance and discipline” these ever-so-benevolent dudes are offering.
As discussion simmered in the comments, ranging wider and wider as discussions of BDSM and feminism tend to do, along came someone claiming to “respect individual choices” while simultaneously arguing that “it’s really hard to seperate out cultural expectations and personal choices.” Which, translated, means something like “You say you chose to do that, but I don’t believe you, and thus I’m free to condemn your choice.” I enjoyed the response:
No, it’s really not hard to separate out personal choices from cultural expectations. When someone says “This is my choice” you respect that, absolutely, or you just became part of the problem. If you retain niggling reservations, if you’re willing to question the individual’s self report of her choice, then you are failing to respect her personal choice and you are claiming, in effect, that you know better than the individual. Viewed charitably, the claim is still a version of “Your society has made it impossible for you to act as as a self-actualized individual adult human; you’re so messed up that you can’t even correctly determine or report what you want.” That’s an infantilizing, disempowering, patronizing claim and although it’s often made by folks who claim the badge of feminism, it’s no part of a true feminism that I could respect.
Just so.
Saturday, March 11th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
One feature of vintage pornography, now mostly vanished, is the anti-clerical, anti-papist depictions of Catholic clergy. Early erotic novels, which mostly tended to be contraband anyway, were chock-full of priests, nuns, and monks run sexually amok in orgiastic golcondas of kinky sex, rape, and flagellation involving each other, whatever innocent children they could seduce or kidnap from their flocks, and sundry nearby farm animals. One doesn’t see so much of that in modern pornography, but there was a bit of it remaining in the hardcore porn of the 1960s and 1970s, which this appears to be:
One could almost surmise, from the hopefully expectant expressions on the nuns’ faces, that they are praying for (and working for) a sudden shower of manna. Nun bukkake, anyone?
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Friday, March 10th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
This week’s Pillowbook has a few words about a man with a hair fetish. Including a variant hair sex practice that may surprise even you, the sex blog readers who have seen it all:
let me briefly share with you an observation on the kinkiest hair sex i’ve had. so far.
it’s not really about pubic hair, but i still think it’s worth mentioning.
i had this guy once (well, quite a few times, actually), who was so besotted with my hair (head hair) that he wanted me to get on all fours over him and use it to stroke him to full erection, every single time we fucked. all over his body i’d stroke him, like he was a billiard table and i was sweeping him prior to a game or something. i would have to sweep him like that for however long it took for his cock to be standing fully to attention. which was usually about ten seconds, but could go on for a lot longer, depending on whether or not he wanted me to bypass penetration altogether and hair-sweep him to orgasm, as he sometimes did. then he’d shoot his load into my hair, and i’d have to go to sleep with a wet spot next to my cheek…
but that’s not the kinky part. that’s just normal.
you and your partner probly did that very thing last night.
no, the kinky part was when he wanted me to peel back his foreskin, take a single strand of living, still-attached hair, wrap it around his glans in a spiral from the base, roll the foreskin back over it, and then – ever so gently so that the hair didn’t break – pull away from him, dragging the hair out from beneath his foreskin like a rock climber’s line playing out of his ropebag.
the thing was, my hair is so fine that sometimes it *would* break, and then things would turn ugly.
let’s not go there.
but, if it didn’t break, he would end up so aroused that, when i tried to then mount him for penetration, he’d usually have come in my hand while i was still trying to place him against my slit.
we did that so often that my head hair was well and truly fetishised. i’d be sitting in a sidewalk cafe with him and the wind would riffle my fringe onto my face, and, when i went to brush it away with my hand, i could tell that he was boning up beneath his latte.
Saturday, February 18th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
This is a post about two smiles:
Those are the two smiles of the lovely Sarah Blake, who does bondage modeling for Hogtied.com. I want you to look at those smiles and study the differences between them. No matter if you’re kinky or vanilla (but especially if you’re vanilla) I want you to remember those smiles the next time you hear a preacher or a politician ranting and raving against the evils of sadomasochism, sexual depravity, and sadistic abuse. He’s talking about Sarah and her delicious, joyful smile.
All the pictures in this post come from this shoot, which you can view for yourself if you want to see Sarah tied up and, er, entertained, in some astonishing ways. I’m not going to reproduce those pictures here, although I will be describing the entertainment. All I’m showing you are her smiles (and one gasp of ecstasy.)
Let’s start with the first smile:
This is the “before” picture, taken at the beginning of the photo shoot. It’s a pretty smile — Sarah’s a pretty woman — but it’s a professional model’s smile. A little bit forced, a lot posed, and as artificial as a flower arrangement. This could be the yearbook photo, the portfolio photo, even the drivers license photo. This smile started when Sarah was young, and you can still see in it the obedient girl who learned what to do when the nice man behind the camera told her to smile.
Sarah covers a lot of kinky miles between that smile and the next one.
If you view more of the shoot, you’ll see Sarah with her ankles crossed and tied in front of her chin. Her miniskirt has puddled around her hips, but her panties are still on, so it’s a fairly innocent bondage image. Sarah’s wild ride is just beginning.
Moving rapidly along, we soon see her in the same pose without her undies, with a glass vacuum jar firmly secured to her tenderest bits. The ride accelerates; in another view, she’s on her knees wearing a heavy wooden set of stocks, with her pony tail tied back to — is there a nicer word for this device? — a butt hook that’s securely hooked in (you guessed it) her butt. The rear view of the same scene shows some welts where she’s been caned.
Moving along. In the next view, she’s been stood up, and a metal-pipe-and-ball-gag arrangement has been affixed to her wooden stocks to complicate her life. Some nipple clips with heavy round lead fishing weights are being clamped onto her nipples. When the cameraman steps back, we can see that she’s balanced on tiptoes, with a pole-and-dildo arrangement to encourage her to stay there.
The next couple of photos show a new scene, with Sarah on her stomach in a tight hogtie on two butcher-block tables. Her hands and feet are pressed and tied together, there’s a suspension rope around her elbows pulling her up in what have to be uncomfortable ways, and she’s wearing a red ball gag in a harness that’s making her drool.
*CLICK* Now she’s on her side, in rope bondage, with clothespins on her nipples and a big vibrator working her tender bits.
*CLICK* Now she’s in suspension — an astonishing upside-down posture that looks like gymnastics, only much sexier. Still with clothespins on her nipples.
Moving on. The website describes and explains the next scene thusly:
Sarah also has a tragic secret, she cannot stop cumming if she is stuck on a vibrator. So viewers, be warned! The last scene is a long intense forced orgasm scene until Sarah is vibrated senseless.
What we see is a hard wooden chair with a big vibrator duct-taped to it. Sarah’s strapped onto the chair (and the vibrator) with some well-worn and very-impressive-looking leather belts. She’s clearly enjoying herself, if a bit lost in the sensation:
So what’s been the point of all this lurid description? Quite simply this. Unless you’re a serious bondage fiend, someone who plays hard and invests serious time and money into your dungeon equipment, I’ve probably described more than you’re comfortable with. If you’ve got no interest in bondage, if you’ve never even seen a pair of fuzzy handcuffs, you might be pretty horrified by most of what I’ve described. If you’ve played at bedroom bondage, own one pair of cuffs and a riding crop, you might be fascinated by some of the pictures but scared or repelled by others of them. If you’re seriously kinky and have a home dungeon of your own, you might appreciate most or all the photos, but even then there’s probably something that’s not quite your cup of tea, or that’s too risky or troublesome to be worth trying in your book. But, whereever you fall on that spectrum, and however sincerely you might say of one of the depicted activities “that’s not for me”, I want you to focus on the last picture in the photoset, Sarah wearing nothing but her rope marks. Here’s Sarah’s exhausted-but-exhilarated second smile:
That’s not just a smile, it’s a grin. There’s more joy and enthusiasm and life in that photo than there is in a dozen of the professional smiles we saw at the top. Sarah, despite having suffered through some intensely uncomfortable bondage positions, has had a wonderful time.
And that visible joy, my friends, is what the Grundies want to kill when they rail against “sadism, masochism, and abuse.” I suppose they don’t even know about the joy — they may honestly think it’s all about objectification and degradation and money and feelthy perverts — but I don’t want you, dear readers, to have the same excuse. You’ve seen the two smiles. Now you know.
The next time you hear somebody railing against the feelthy perverts, you’re to remember the smiles. Even if the specific activity under discussion grosses you out, because it’s not your kink and you can’t understand why it could be anyone’s, remember the smiles. Remember Sarah’s visible joy. We don’t need to understand or appreciate a kink to understand that smile.
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Thursday, February 2nd, 2006 -- by Aphrodite
There’s something about vintage sexy pictures that I really like. Part of it is that being in the smut business was, well, smuttier back then. People’s expressions are different too. Some look bored, others look kind of embarrassed or high, and sometimes they look like they’re really enjoying themselves, not in today’s fake-smile way. You also learn alot, like that all kinds of kink happened way back when. Here are some pictures that show what I mean.
She looks like she’s sizing her victim up! Will he get the switch or not? (And what is up with that goofy hat on the chair?)
The next lady is one of the ones that look like they’re really enjoying themselves and will rip anybody that criticizes her a new one.
When I saw this picture the song “Afternoon Delight” popped into my head, and now it’s stuck there, ugh.
But she is lovely and it would be delightful to splash with her. Thanks to Retro Raunch for all these pictures, and lots more! Their pictures are better than these, because I shrank these some. Also a big thank you kiss to Wombat at Kiss & Blog for telling us chicks that confidence is sexy, even when our body isn’t perfect. That’s true for you guys, too.
Wednesday, February 1st, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Isn’t this the sort of problem they’re supposed to catch in premarital counselling?
From alt. binaries. pictures. erotica. cartoons.
Saturday, January 7th, 2006 -- by Aphrodite
Difference. Variation. Contrast. In my humble view, this is one of the keys to good, mind consuming sex. To explore and use the sensory toolbox – on the body as well as the mind. And in vanilla as well as kinky joys.
One tasty nibble from a good post on how important doing things just a little differently can be, in Difference. Variation. Contrast., by Bliatz. For me, one or two guys stay in my mind because what they did was so different from all the others. But if they did that same thing every time, it would get old too. If any of my previous lovers could speak up, I bet they would say that I let them direct the action too much. Given how long I’ve been without, I don’t think that will be a problem for a while!
Thursday, January 5th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
If you’ve ever seen the print version of Hustler’s Taboo magazine (edited by the modestly legendary bondage king Earnest Greene, spouse of hugely legendary porn star Nina Hartley), you’ll know that it’s a cut above the usual newstand fetish fare. Sure, it’s got your basic bleached blondes in crotchless red latex catsuits piddling into clear glass salad bowls, and sure, it combines handcuffs, riding crops, and blowjobs in ways that are hardly novel (although perhaps a bit prettier and a bit edgier than is common these days). But it’s also got some of the slickest fetish photography around, from famous photographers like Suze Randall, and some of its kinkiness borders on genuine high-concept:
Any fool can order a pony girl outfit and deliver photographs of some cute filly high-stepping across the carpets of an LA hotel suite, but where else will you see a porno-blonde in latex boots and corset hauling a manure wagon around some dirty farm in the dark? It’s gotta be art, I tell you!
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Monday, December 26th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
Perhaps if you were very good (or very naughty, but in a good way) you found a video iPod in your stocking yesterday morning. Lucky you! It’s a nifty toy.
However, in that case you’ll looking for “stuff” to watch on it, so I wanted to remind you of some of the porn resources for the video iPod that I’ve stumbled over in recent weeks. I did a long post about using GUBA to find iPod porn, plus I’ve mentioned (here and here) that two of the kinky sites I sometimes promote have started putting iPod-ready video content in their members areas.
A few more sites where iPod porn is now available to members:
Sex And Submission: (Real bondage sex)
Whipped Ass: (Female/female spanking and domination)
Fucking Machines: (Heavily modified power “tools”)
Men In Pain: (Female domination of men)
Water Bondage: (Just what it sounds like)
Ultimate Surrender: (Nude girls wrestle; winner dominates loser)
Fair warning: Most of these sites have just begun offering their movie clips in iPod format, and they haven’t (yet) converted their archives. So you won’t find hundreds of iPod-ready movies, just the ones from recent updates.
Enjoy!
Update from the future: Hi, this is the future. We have smartphones now. Video iPods? What the hell were those? The good news is, Kink.com now has everything in .mp4 format, in five different sizes. If you’ve got a screen the size of your thumbnail on your watch, or or a TV the size of your living room wall, they’ve got you covered. Ain’t progress grand?
Thursday, December 15th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
No, not literally crapping; this isn’t that sort of website.
Over on Figleaf’s Real Adult Sex, Figleaf posted a long entry about folks who come to blogs where there are nekkid pictures, only to leave strongly derisive comments about the nekkid pictures in question. He likened such folks to trolls, and suggested deleting the body-critical comments plus the standard troll cure: ignoring them.
I posted a long comment over there, which this post mostly duplicates, not because I disagree with the prescription (I don’t) but because I don’t think the nasty body-critical comments are really deliberate trolling behavior. A true troll knows he’s a troll; these guys (and they are always guys) are just bringing to the internet their “normal” obnoxious behavior from daily life.
Here at ErosBlog, I’ve always been ruthless about deleting anything that attempts to drag down my attempt at maintaining a body-positive, sex-positive, kink-friendly editorial tone. For example, awhile back I posted some public nude shots of Kirsten Dunst, and attracted a whole host of folks commenting on how ugly her breasts supposedly are. She’s pretty by any reasonable measure, so what’s up with that? I dunno, but the ugly comments I had to delete far outnumbered the ones that remain.
What I’ve learned running a sex blog is that there are a whole host of guys whose only mode of discourse about bodily appearance is to make a negative comment. I think perhaps it originates in adolescent one-upsmanship; one guy says “Sally’s hot, I’d like to do her” and the other guys all say “No, man, she’s a pig, she’s got a huge ass” as a way of belittling the first guy. However it started, the result is a fairly large class of guys whose reflex response whenever they see an erotic picture is to say something mean and ugly about the body depicted.
It’s clearly an act of emotional aggression, some sort of attempt to establish superiority by expressing contempt for that which other people consider beautiful. An extreme form of this (which I’ve seen in various places on the internet) is the “It’s a tranny” game. The way the “game” is played is to post a picture of an unknown but pretty woman, and then wait until other men admit that the woman shown is lustworthy. Then the trap springs, as the original poster (or others) assert “It’s a tranny!” It doesn’t have to be true; the point is merely to score points by belittling another man’s opinions about sexual attractiveness.
I guess the point of all this is to suggest to other bloggers that they not take it quite so personally. If you post your boobs or butt on your blog and some nasty guy makes a rude comment, it’s possible that he doesn’t hate you specifically and didn’t stop by your blog to cause trouble specifically for you. More likely, he’s just a boorish lout who says “fat ass!” by reflex whenever he sees a pretty butt. It’s not aimed at you at all; it’s male posturing aimed at the other men who are admiring your ass.
Sure, delete his comment, just the way you’d evict a stinky drunk who stumbled into your living room from the street. But don’t take the comments so much to heart, any more than you’d worry about the good opinion of the drunk.
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Monday, November 14th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
It seems that Annie’s husband has discovered the silver lining, er, behind having an allergic wife:
I was likely snoring alluringly – we all know how sexy a good snort and snotty sniff is – which naturally drove my man wild with desire and, no longer able to restrain his need, I felt him get on the bed behind me and spoon, the rowdy beast poking at his lair’s door insistently. Herein lies another effect of “severe allergy” pills. Being antihistimines, they dry everything up – everything except my nose that is – requiring the horny, and now grumbling, man to get up and rummage the nightstand drawer for the lube.
At that point he was truly a man on a mission, he was gonna Get Some and Get It Now. He lifted me up onto my knees and elbows and was quickly home with a virile plunge. The thing about hay fever is that as long as ya stay really still with your eyes closed, the symptoms can be held at bay. The minute ya move and open your eyes, It’s All Over. With Robert fucking happily away, I sneezed and Robert says, “Whoa! Sneeze again!”
“Huh? What happened to gezundheit?” I query in disbelief.
“Gezundheit. Now sneeze again. Man, that feels amazing!” he sez, thrusting the beast in to the hilt and holding, waiting for the next sneeze. “Come on, look at the light or something… sneeze for me, baby.”
Sneeze for me, baby? I’ve heard of cumming on command, but sneezing on command? Now, this is kinky.
“Um…” I responded brilliantly.
“Come on, baby, SNEEZE!” he commanded, slapping my ass hard. Then again.
Damned if that didn’t work. The stimulation did indeed set off a new round of sneeze – or maybe it was just convenient timing – but Robert got his desire. The way he moaned it must have been pretty darned good.
“It would be even better in your ass,” I heard through the nose pill haze. Soon, the beast had poked his head into my tight, unprepped bottom.
“OWWW-choo! Shit, Robert!” Aaahhh-choo! My hay fever attack was officially exerting itself again in full force. So I’m sneezing and bugfuck stupid with a cock up my ass and my man is moaning “oooh baby, it’s sooo good”.
It just doesn’t get any kinkier than this.
I suppose you could try this at home (even without allergies) using a bit of black pepper. Or, for the truly retro Victorian shopgirl experience, snuff.
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Saturday, October 22nd, 2005 -- by Bacchus
One of the common mostly-false slams against porn in this era of globalisation is that the performers are mostly coerced sex slaves, or at least impoverished scared young girls with few options. (I’m not making this up as a straw man argument; see, e.g., the Biting Beaver (her term): “You CANNOT know if the girl you are masturbating to is, in reality, a sexual slave from Austria who has a gun pointed at her head just off camera.“)
Yeah. And you cannot know that the bottle of salad dressing you pour on your salad isn’t full of stale unpasteurized jizz from bored wanking food factory workers, either. But that doesn’t make it likely, or stop you from eating creamy salads. Why not? Because of branding. If you worry about funky jizz in your dressing, you buy a reputable brand from a company you trust, one that’s got white-coated vat inspectors and security cams all over the factory floor. And, if you really worry, you do research. You get a tour of the factory, or (more likely) read the article in Consumer Reports by the reporter who worked there for three days undercover. The point is, you check into it a little bit.
This is perfectly possible with porn. By way of local example, these issues came up in a peripheral way in this post about real sex in BDSM porn, where a couple of readers suggested in the comments that making such porn was degrading and unsafe for the models, only to be confronted by other readers who were able to vouch for the porn company in question based on personal acquaintance with the models and producers.
And that’s how you check out your porn brand. Research. You look for accounts (which are all over the web, since many models have blogs) of what it’s like to work for a particular porn company, how they treat their people, how the sets are run, whatever you’re worried about. Of course you can’t disprove sensationalist claims about porn factories full of enslaved Eastern European beauties this way — folks who want to cling to that fantasy will continue to do so, brandishing their “news” stories from The Weekly World News, National Enquirer, and Reader’s Digest — but you can satisfy yourself, along with any other reasonable people who might be curious, that the porn you buy is sex slave free.
To pick another flamboyantly outrageous example, how about the notoriously severe spanking and caning DVDs produced by Lupus Pictures? They are often cited as an example of a company that must abuse and exploit its models, because what right-thinking innocent girl would voluntarily consent to an ass-whipping that leaves her in tears with flaming red welts on her bottom? (Short answer: There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreampt of in your philosophy.)
Here are couple of a relatively mild screen capture samples so we know what we are talking about, courtesy of Lupus Spanking [2014 update: now defunct]:
And now some samples from an article by and an interview with Niki Flynn, who went to Prague to make a movie with these “evil werewolves from the East”. From the article (link broke awhile ago, see this .txt mirror):
I never thought of myself as a girl who could survive a Lupus-style caning. I cringe and wince when I watch the films and say, “There’s no way I could take that!” I’d heard the internet rumours, of course — about the innocent, impoverished Czech girls who are seduced by the money into being abused by the evil werewolves from the East. But I’d look at the “behind-the-scenes” pictures on the website and see everyone having a good time, laughing and horsing around, even after the canings. So the rumours never seemed to have any substance. Besides, the same girls turn up again and again to do films; they clearly know what to expect.
…
The thing that impressed me most of all was the consummate professionalism of everyone involved. This was not a group of pornographers making dirty pictures, nor was it a cruel band of misogynists delighting in taking advantage of girls who couldn’t say no. This was a real film crew working on a real film. In addition to the director, producer, script supervisor, makeup artist, properties and wardrobe mistress, caterer, cameramen, boom operator, still photographer, actors and (ahem) stunt girls, there were people on hand to offer us refreshments, comfort or anything else we needed.
…
Did it hurt? Of course. Did I enjoy it? Absolutely not. Do I regret it? Not for a moment. In fact, I had the time of my life. So did William. I knew exactly what I was getting into and I did it because this is what I like. And when it was over and I lay sobbing over the desk, I felt what mountain climbers must feel when they reach the peak. I was so high on the feeling of accomplishment and so lost in the roleplay that I nearly wished I could have some more! And when I look at the marks now I have a sense of pride and achievement. I savor the marks. No one who isn’t into this can ever truly understand. Boxers and footballers suffer broken noses and concussions. No one criticizes them or calls their sport unhealthy. What we do is so much safer. It’s really a shame so many people misunderstand.
Hmm, she doesn’t sound helpless or exploited, does she?
From her interview:
David: There are many rumors about the girls who perform in Lupus productions. Some believe that they attract poor, starving, drug-addicted Eastern European Girls. Now I know that this isn’t true. Prague is often referred to as ‘The Paris of the east”. The Czech Republic is not a third world country. What myths about Lupus would you most like to dispel?
Niki: (Sigh) Yes, the famous urban legends. I think that those rumors are insulting to the girls actually. It’s true, some people think of the Czech Republic as a third world country and that the girls are all uneducated and bullied into it. Or, they have no choice because they are so desperate for money they will do anything. The truth is that the Czech Republic isn’t a third world country; it’s a middle income country that has just joined the European Union. Most of the Lupus crew are friends on the Czech BDSM scene. Some of the girls do it because they are genuinely kinky — they come back again and again. Some may do it for money, but it’s not a crust of bread. They are paid a professional rate. On the set, they are treated as professional actors. The production team at Lupus couldn’t have been more professional or more concerned for my safety — for all of the performers’ safety.
And that’s how you know that the girl in your favorite video doesn’t have an off-camera gun pointed at her head.
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Thursday, October 20th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
There’s something fascinating about watching an articulate fetishist of ordinary objects describe his (or her .. but it’s usually “his”) fetish. When the fetish is common enough to be deliberately recognized, acknowledged, and sexualized in mainstream media or porn (as with leather, rubber, shoes, pantyhose, and the like) the effect is lessened by our own recognition of the fetish; we can see a pretty lady rubbing a foot against her nylons and go “Mmm, a two-fer” even if we aren’t foot or nylons fetishists our own selves. But when the fetish is more uncommon (balloons, casts), there’s less sexual “noise” when the non-fetishist witnesses the fetishist in action. For me, at least, it offers insight into what fetish is and how it works.
But wait, I hear you saying. Did I say “casts”?
Indeed I did. Confessions of a Cast Fetishist [link broken and removed] is just what it sounds like; or, as the author of the blog puts it, “a description and continuing exploration of my erotic and aesthetic obsessions with leg casts, female feet — especially toes — and footwear.” No, really:
[The film] does happen to feature one rather important detail: a significant female character with a leg in a plaster cast. This might not necessarily be of great import to the vast majority of the movie-consuming public but, to the connoisseur fetishist, leg casts are not altogether common in cinema history, and so any one that may occur is something to be savoured. And, should the person sporting the leg cast happen to be quite as attractive as Famke Janssen, as is this particular instance, well, now we’re talking. Anyway, as a result, I’ve recently invested in a copy of the DVD of the film, to enjoy, again and again, the relevant scenes at my leisure, as it were.
…
I love to see a plaster cast being customized like that, in such a typical way — it’s what people do when they see a cast, and why not, who could blame them? I know that were I actually to be in that scene, I’d be snatching her crayons and pens from the kid and elbowing her out of the way in order to have my turn, and how I’d hog that plaster cast to my heart’s content, decorating it in my own special way, adding my very own personal dedications and hymns to its wonder and beauty. I should add that Famke spends a sizable part of the film wearing a skimpy, tight little vest top that is also hardly unbecoming to her charms. Here’s another little peek. How lovely it would be to keep her “entertained” under the circumstances.
Saturday, September 24th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
Via Bondage Blog comes this link to an interesting discourse on advertising images of women. But I was amazed by the casual one-sentence dismissal of kinky people, in a line that calls an image of a “‘woman-in-pain-but-she-loves-it-really” “misogynist iconography”.
There is, of course, a vast community of women who enjoy bondage and/or pain, plus the people who love those women. So now all these people (a huge chunk of the BDSM community) are misogynists? I’ve read that passage several times, and I just can’t see any way to read it that doesn’t attribute misogyny to all BDSM erotica with female subjects. I thought those sorts of baseless generalizations went out of fashion when civilized people started laughing at Andrea Dworkin.
Here’s the “misogynist iconography” in question:
What grosses me out about that image is that it appears to be one of those advertising images where they’ve used Photoshop as a “digital rack” to stretch the model, so that she appears unnaturally long in the torso and limbs. That’s gotta hurt.
Saturday, July 16th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
Don’t ever let anybody tell you that the ancients weren’t every bit as kinky as we modern types. Here’s a detail from a sketch of the fragmentary Turin Papyrus showing a charioteer boffing a woman while the chariot is being drawn by yet more scantily-clad women or girls, wearing masks or perhaps drawn as having animal heads.
The image comes from this article on ancient Egyptian sexuality, found via Good Shit.
2014 update: There’s an easier-to-see sketch of the ponygirl section, found here.
Friday, July 1st, 2005 -- by Bacchus
A new kinky site is out: Sex And Submission!
If you like your sex at all kinky, you’ll have noticed that genuinely kinky hard core porn is very hard to find. Bondage and spanking photos are a dime a dozen, but how often do you see a pretty woman in a leather collar with her wrists tied giving a big sloppy enthusiastic blowjob? Or bouncing happily up and down on some male porn star prong with her wrists clipped to the D-rings on her collar?
I’m not saying you can’t find it, but it’s not common and it’s rarely commercial. In the United States, this has something to do (I’m told) with porn-industry-standard “rules of thumb” designed to help porn producers avoid judicial unpleasantry in all the most sexually conservative corners of the country where their porn might get sold.
So imagine my suprise today to discover that one of my favorite porn producers (the folks who, from their bastion of permissive community standards in San Francisco, put out sites like the oddly transgressive Ultimate Surrender girl/girl wrestling site, the justly famous Hogtied bondage site, or the sadly-defunct Real Fucking Couples) has crossed the line in a big way with their new site called Sex and Submission. For the first time that I’ve seen, an American porn company is making real BDSM porn that includes tight bondage, hard spanking, and real unfaked sex.
Let me illustrate by pointing to this Sex And Submission shoot, which opens with an almost stereotypical, even banal, BDSM tableau. Here’s a pretty woman (Lori Alexia) on her knees, on a leash but not otherwise bound, looking hungrily in the direction of some fellow’s presumably masterful erection:
Of course, every two-bit BDSM pornographer in the last twenty years has shown you a picture like that, teasing you into hoping that she’ll be naked and tied (or chained, or whatever) in the next picture, and sucking like mad (still tied) in the picture after that. But if you bought the tease, you’d be disappointed. In the bad stuff, the leash is as good as the bondage gets; in the better stuff, her bondage gets more severe, and you might eventually see his penis held near her face, almost-but-not-quite in range of her tongue. And then in the next shot, you’ll looking at a blowjob closeup. And in the shot after that, they are going at it hammer and tongs — and she’s not tied any more. There are endless (and sometimes very creative) variations on the theme, but somehow the bondage and the sex never seem to make it into the same photographic frame.
In sharp contrast to those tired old ruses, Sex and Submission (astonishingly) appears to be delivering on the tease. In the shoot I took that photo from, it’s followed by a spanking photo, a picture of her being tied up tight with real rope, a display shot of her still leashed, but now topless with her hands tied behind, and then (philandering Zeus smite me if I lie!) two photos of her sucking intently on the man’s dick with her hands still tied and his tight grip on the leash “encouraging” her. I saw that and like to dropped my teeth. It’s a thing that (up until now) just wasn’t done.
Nor is it just a fluke. In this shoot, the Sex and Submission people have lovely Jamie all bent over in a short wooden pillory:
Again, every BDSM pornographer has got one of these pillories, and an endless supply of cute girls to put in it. You can find a hundred thousand versions of the inevitable weary flogging. But have you ever before seen the male talent take the obvious advantage of the situation and get a pillory blowjob? Perhaps I’ve led a sheltered life, because I haven’t. Until now.
When one does actually find this sort of real BDSM porn in odd foreign corners of the net, there’s always the additional worry that the scenes depicted might not be fully consensual. That’s the trouble with bondage sex — the vast majority of it as actually practiced in bedroooms and dungeons throughout the land is relentlessly consensual, but it’s neither easy nor desirable to portray that consent in a still photo. These galleries, made in America by a reputable producer of known fixed address, go a long way toward alleviating those sorts of concerns.
I’ll shut up now. It’s time to play one of my favorite games with The Nymph — the one where I show her pictures on my computer screen and she says “Eek!” (while observing avidly between widely-spaced fingers over her eyes). Y’see, she’s actually the carpenter of the family….
Update: There’s a rather heated comment to this post asking why “only the women are portrayed as submissives” and “will this company be fair and show men who are getting spanked and tied and fucked?” The answer, of course, is not “sexism” as the commenter proposes. In fact, the answer to the latter question is simply “Yes.” The company in question has had such a site for years, called Men in Pain. Here’s a shoot featuring a man in severe bondage being caned, flogged, and penetrated anally and orally by powerful women. Sorry, Michelle, that dog just won’t hunt. Unless the sexism runs the other way? Why has it long been OK to show this sort of explicit submissive bondage sex when the man is the recipient, but not when the woman is?
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Sunday, June 19th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
In case you thought tentacle sex was a modern Japanese kink, this vintage shunga image ought to disabuse you:
The artist is the famous Katsushika Hokusai, who died in 1849. What’s more, there’s a link at Tentacle Porn to a putative translation of the script surrounding the image. No warranties, express or implied:
OCTOPUS MAXIMUS: My wish comes true at last, this day of days; finally I
have you in my grasp! Your “bobo” is ripe and full, how wonderful! Superior
to all others! To suck and suck and suck some more. After we do ot
masterfully, I’ll guide yo to the Dragon Palace of the Sea God and envelope
you. “Zuu sufu sufu chyu chyu chyu tsu zuu fufufuuu…”
MAIDEN: You hateful octopus! Your sucking at the mouth of my womb makes me
gasp for breath! Aah! yes… it’s… There.!!! With the sucker, the
sucker!! inside, squiggle, squiggle, Oooh! Oooh, good, Oooh good! There,
there! Theeeeere! Goood! Whew! Aah! Good, good, Aaaaaaaaaah! Not yet!
Until now it was I that men called an octopus! An octopus! Ooh! Whew! How
are you able…!? Ooh! “yoyoyooh, Saa… Hicha hicha gucha gucha, yuchyuu
chyu guzu guzu suu suuu….”
OCTOPUS MAXIMUS: All eigth legs (arms?) to interwine with!! How do you like
it htis way? Ah, look! The inside has swollen, moistened by the warm waters
of lust. “Nura nura doku doku doku…”
MAIDEN: Yes, it tingles now; soon there will be no sensation at all left my
hips. Ooooooh! Boundaries and borders gone! I ‘ve Vanished….!!!!!!
OCTOPUS MINIMUM: After daddy finishes, I too want to rub and rub my suckers
at the ridge of your furry place until you disappear and then I’ll suck
some more, “chyu chyu..”
Monday, June 13th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
Whenever you read those “all about how to have kinky sex” sites, they always emphasize the need to “negotiate your scene in advance”. Most such essays on how to conduct this eminently necessary negotiation makes the process sound stilted, complicated, wearisome, and awkward. Of course, that’s entirely at odds with my observations of the actual kinkiness that I’ve brushed into in my life — so I’ve wondered if this wasn’t some sort of “do as I say, not as I do” advice for newbies.
In partial answer to that question, I present Bret and Hiromi’s he-said-she-said dialog entitled “The Logistics Of Pee Sex.” It’s emphatically a scene negotiation, but not self-consciously so. In fact, I’d say it’s a blueprint for a frank light-hearted scene negotiation that also happens to sound like a fun conversation. Scales fall from the eyes.
Wednesday, June 1st, 2005 -- by Aphrodite
After being away for a while, I finally got it through my stupid head that I won’t have something better to say here until I finish the R story. It wasn’t easy to do, and it isn’t very pretty, but here it is, behind the “more” link. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, the third part of the story includes links to the first two parts.
R and I spent Christmas on a skiing trip that was awesome and horrible. I liked learning how to ski, and even made it down the hill once or twice without falling on my ass. The mountains were beautiful, and while we were in public R was his attentive, charming self. He told me to pack for a sexy cold trip…..I thought he meant the cold would be outside. But it was inside too. He told me we’d be together…..except that he never slept with me. In his house, in all the hotels we stayed in, R never stayed with me in bed all night. At first, at his house, I thought it was to give me some privacy, but since he constantly walked into the room I used without knocking whenever he wanted, I don’t think it was for that. At the hotels, we stayed in the same room, but always in seperate beds. But I’m getting ahead of things already.
That first night, at R’s house, was very different from our fun at Thanksgiving. He was formal, like he was trying to decide if he should hire me for a job or something. R welcomed me warmly, but it didn’t seem very sincere, more like it was what he had been taught to do and say to a woman that would be staying with him. He didn’t seem to like it if I touched him first, I found out quickly. After dinner, which was focused mostly on eating and small talk about family and high school friends, he said that he was tired from working so much and that the next night he’d give me a proper welcome. I offered to rub his back, the way I used to, but he said no, and said I should probably sleep too as jetlag would catch up with me and make learning to ski in the mountains harder. He walked me to the room where I’d put my bags, which I thought was his bedroom, barely kissed me, said goodnight and walked down the hall to his room.
I wasn’t expecting a romantic candle light bath, or rose petals all over the bed, but after the hot sex we had at Thanksgiving, this was a real shock. He wasn’t even going to sleep with me! One of the things I hate about being single is not having a nice-smelling man to snuggle with. Here I was with a guy that used to make my knees weak, I thought I did the same to him, and he barely touched me all evening! I went to bed thinking What the fuck?!
The first time we had sex was the second day of the ski trip, up until then it was one lame-ass excuse after another. R was skiing with me down one of the bigger beginner runs, and when I fell for the jillionth time, he started laughing at me. He was close enough that I pulled him over too, and he fell on top of me. We were both laughing, then the next thing I knew he was kissing me, hard. A small clump of pine trees was close by, and he rolled us over into it, laughing and kissing me the whole time. There wasn’t much to hide behind, but there weren’t many other skiers. I undid my entire front down to the sexy thermal top I bought specially for the trip, but he stayed mostly dressed, just undoing enough to release his very hard, very hot cock and plow it into me. I don’t know and don’t care if anybody saw us, I was so glad to finally be getting fucked that I didn’t even think about it. Fast and furious and hot and cold…..I didn’t come, but it was still damn good.
That night at dinner R started to explain what he meant when he said he didn’t know if he could show me how he is now. The way he said it, I thought he was into rough sex, and since that’s not something I’ve done a lot of except fantasize about, I told him that I thought we could work up to some things. After I said that he relaxed, and was very sweet and more like the highschool boy I’d fallen for.
Remember, I didn’t tell R that I contribute to a sex blog. So as far as he knew, I was just some normal chick that was willing to try some kinky new things. Some were fun and really got me going, like these vibrating nipple clamps. Most of the time it seemed like he didn’t care if I would like something, and didn’t bother to even think about that. R didn’t seem to understand the need for lube with some toys, or going slow, so it ended up sometimes that his stuff hurt, it wasn’t sexy, and when we did have sex, it was like, just get it over with so I can go to sleep.
On our last night, after a very fun day just hanging out together, he decided to do a twat test. I needed to keep whatever he put in my pussy totally inside it, or he’d punish me however he wanted. The idea was he’d keep trying smaller things, but the first thing he put in me was so small and smooth that even clenching my tightest, it peeked out. I tried to tell R that it would be a good start for a teenage virgin, but not someone like me, but I got spanked for my “sauciness.” We both ended up frustrated and mad because his game wasn’t working. He said he was going to tie me up, and when I asked about a safe word, he said that he’d be able to tell if he was pushing me too hard and that stuff like that was for chickens. My questions made him madder, and he finally yelled that no slave of his was going to get away with talking to him like that.
That pushed me over the edge, because I never said I’d be his slave, and he never asked. I went to the room I was staying in, and R came after me, telling me that I was his for the entire trip and I’d better start behaving properly if I didn’t want to get seriously punished for my insolence. I didn’t want to do it, but I was so mad and so frustrated by his impossible demands and not having much sex that I started crying. R had been so sweet and affectionate whenever we were out in public anywhere, but when it was just the two of us alone all that vanished. I tried to tell R that if he had shown me just a little of that sweetness in his house, I’d probably be licking his shoes that very minute, but with his Jeckyll-Hyde thing going I didn’t know what to think, and I didn’t trust him to tie me up. He said he did care for me, and he knew that I just needed some good discipline to see that, and that after he gave it, I’d know I could trust him. I told him I didn’t work that way, I had to trust before ropes or cuffs came anywhere near me, and if he wasn’t okay with that then this was it. R didn’t seem to get anything I was saying, he didn’t seem to even understand the difference I saw in him going from public to private, so, since I was almost all packed anyway I grabbed my stuff and left. I told him not to bother calling me or returning my other stuff, and walked out.
He didn’t call or anything, until April. He had a business trip, he said, that required that the men have female companions with them. He told me I’d be perfect for the trip, that I’d love it, that he’d let me set the rules this time, if only I’d agree to go on the trip with him. He was so sweet and so persuasive that I almost said yes……but then I remembered how it was over the holidays, and how confused and awful I felt for alot of the time. I also started wondering exactly what this “business trip” was, and wondering if he had some kind of kinky thing worked out. So I said no, told him not to call me anymore, and hung up.
But his call made me start thinking about all we had done…..Thanksgiving, which was totally hot and fun…..Christmas and New Years’, which had some fun stuff but mostly was wierd and scary to me. Did I do something wrong to make it all so bad? Maybe I am more of a prude than I think…….but I don’t really think so. And now I don’t know if I’ll find someone else to try with….if I can trust a guy again. I don’t like being like that.
Saturday, May 28th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
Have you ever noticed that each new assault on adult society and culture is justifed by saying that adult behavior must be curbed “for the children”? Here’s a story of the prudish Swiss, invoking the precious kinder to keep kinky teddy bears off the public streets:
Of course, it’s “because of the children”:
A giant dominatrix teddy bear wearing a leather mask and brandishing hand-cuffs has been banned from sober Zurich’s street display of man-sized model bears, the project’s artistic director said Tuesday.
…
“This bear is perverse, dominatrix and hardcore. We had to ban it because of the children,” Beat Seeberger-Quin, the project’s art director, told Reuters.
Thanks to Sarah for mailing the link.
Wednesday, April 20th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
If you like playing “In The Dungeons Of The Inquisition” with your partner of choice, you’ll be impressed by this photograph from Water Bondage:
What caught my attention, after a moment’s thought, was the real-world dynamic of arranging to take this picture. Just exactly how trusted does a fetish photographer have to be, before his models will agree to an underwater bondage photo shoot? I don’t care how kinky you are or what the photo shoot pays: when the water closes over your head you’re going to want to have a lot of faith that the boys wearing the torturer’s cowls are paying close attention to your well-being.
Proof, if you need it, that there are still professions in the world where character and reputation matter.
Similar Sex Blogging:
Friday, April 15th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
Tigereyes, who credits his wife with bringing some kink to their marriage, describes an unexpected side benefit (above and beyond the usual spankings and hotter sex):
I have to say one thing about the DD D/s lifestyle: it’s finally convinced my dear wife that she’s too young and hot to be wearing granny panties and granny gowns. [He’s right, she is. –Ed.] Ladies, I don’t care how old you are, please do not subject your husband to the libido-killing granny duo. For those of you unsure what I’m talking about, granny panties are the underwear that come up about 3 inches above the waist and granny gowns – the official sleepwear of the Puritan woman – have high necks, long sleeves, and cover the feet.
Now, my Carrie wears sporty, spunky, and cute sleepshorts and t-shirts. And when she comes downstairs wearing these and has her hair in pigtails, I know it’s time to get it on.
Now, to spread the word!
Tuesday, March 22nd, 2005 -- by Aphrodite
:( My computer died yesterday. I don’t know if I can get it fixed or if I’ll need a new one. I’m at the library, so no good pictures for now. I just had a couple of minutes to check in on a couple of favorite blogs (I only get 15 minutes on the computer, oh the horror!), and got so involved in catching up on sex-play negotiations between Brett and Hiromi at Panties panties panties that there’s no time left!
I’ll be back as soon as I can! :crazy:
Sunday, March 6th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
Sure, there are lots of ways to not get laid. (Trust me, in my youth I practiced several.) But this method of replying to kinky personal ads has to rank WAY up there. “You eventually give me total access to your soul and I accept the responsibility as an honor….” Does that sound like a fellow who might be two people short of a threesome?
Thanks to Mistress Matisse for finding the link to total-access-man’s sarcastic tormenter.
Wednesday, January 19th, 2005 -- by Aphrodite
As a visitor so nicely confirmed in a comment on my post yesterday, the picture is indeed from Burning Man. Nekkid Jim also recommended a stop by his Beastial Hump Camp photo page, which is, um, different. Think “Loch Ness Cock”…..
Anyway, the Cocky Bastard has other kinky playa pix too…..including one that makes me laugh every time I see it. It’s hidden behind the “more” link for this reason: Nymph, you might not want to look!
Yes people, it’s Bondage Bear!
Friday, January 7th, 2005 -- by Aphrodite
I’m embarrassed because as I was crawling into my lonely bed last night I realized that I’ve now promised y’all two stories….my favorite fantasy and the tale of R and me and our holiday vacation. I’m still trying to get caught up on work that piled up while I was gone, and neither of these stories is going to be a fast writing job. But I am trying to get time for them, and you will see them at some point. If there’s more interest for one than the other (you can provide your “vote” in a comment) that’s the one I’ll do first.
Meantime, I was catching up on Bacchus’ older posts, and saw this one, that includes links to some kinky Harry Potter fanfic. Here’s one I found that is similar, but more focused on emotions than graphically describing acts. It’s called Remains, and it’s by RazorQueen. Scanning down her blog, I see links to more sexy Harry Potter stuff….and looking at her website, a whole section of adult fanfic. And dark poetry. Yowza. A couple of her love poems really got to me….if I had read them before R invited me out to play for the holidays I might not have gone.
Will that help hold you while I try to find time to write the stories I’ve promised you? :)
Saturday, December 18th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
In case you missed it, there is a set of funny conversation transcripts on the forums at Bondage.com that are making the rounds of the blogs. A kinky man gets surreal phone calls from his mother after she finds out about his kink, and begins to explore her own:
Mom — I mean it. We went out last night and he said it twice!
Me — Where did you go?
Mom — Well, just upstairs. But still.
Me — Did you like it?
Mom — It made me smile. But I think I was blushing.
Me — From that? Why?
Mom — Because I didn’t know how deep to go.
Me — You’re losin’ me. What?
Mom — You know, with my finger.
Me — Ummmmm, Uhh. Well� (Why do I bother? I don’t *have* to answer the phone.)
Mom — Well? I never did that before. I wasn’t sure if I would hurt him.
Me — Poop finger. (System shock is an ugly thing.)
Mom — What?
Me — You gave the poor guy the poop finger. Christ.
Mom — We’re experimenting. Isn’t your mother allowed to experiment??
Me — Exactly what did I do to deserve this?
Mom — Just tell me how far in I can do that.
Me — You really put your finger in his butt, huh? (Nothing surprises me anymore.)
Mom — Only a little ways. I was too embarrassed. I wanted to keep going.
Me — You won’t hurt him. Just buy some Astro Glide.
Mom — I brought a case home.
Me — Good fuckin’ god! You going to put a safety deposit box inside him? (Ok, I lied. Things still surprise me.)
Mom — Will you be serious?
Me — I am! That’s a lot of goop!
Mom — I have to get going, he’ll be back in a few minutes.
Me — Ok ok. He’ll know when it’s too far. Got a safe word?
Mom — It’s ‘Jingle.’
Me — Good enough. Love you. Don’t call back mkay?
Mom — Rotten kid.
Me — (Click)
Obviously this is one of those internet things to be taken with a grain of salt — this could easily be quality comic fiction. But remember, there’s no way to know for sure. Saying you are sure with too much certainty only makes you look like a bear of little brain.
Found via Bondage Blog.
Friday, December 10th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
Is it kinky Friday? It must be! Here are some kinky links for you all:
First: That relative rarity, a male/female fisting pic. From a series on this page.
Second: A Harry Potter slash story. Harry-slash-Draco. With spanking. And figging. Found via Figging.com.
Third: A gallery of vintage (or at least black and white) enema pictures.
ErosBlog, your infallible source (today only!) of links about butt.
Tuesday, November 30th, 2004 -- by Aphrodite
I’m blaming the beautiful photos of vintage items at Corset Dreams for my most recent obsession … sexy snaps from days gone by. Here’s a nice, little pic that’s a great example of the good old days in kinkland:
The niftiest thing about that little shot is that it’s available on RetroRaunch to send as a postcard, along with many others. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg o’ goodies available there! :D
Wednesday, November 24th, 2004 -- by Aphrodite
Hi all. Sorry I’ve been absent. At the last minute I decided to go home for Thanksgiving…..which meant alot of driving deep into Bible-belt land. I didn’t think I’d have much to blog about from here, but last night a longtime dream/fantasy came true.
There was this guy I’d had a crush on in sixth grade; he was cute and cocky and not afraid to be nice to us girls. I didn’t think he knew I existed…..but I found out later that he liked me too. But, I found that out at a bad time, because I was going with somebody else. When we broke up, he was going with somebody….but by the time they broke up, I was going with somebody again, and that’s how it went. We were good friends throughout high school but lost touch after that. Even though our families are still here, we never met up.
Until last night, anyway. I was at a store getting some booze to hide in my room, and in he walked. Not quite as blond as I remember, not as skinny, either, but still with his self-confident strut–and a nicely balding top of the head. Even better than the version of him that was part of alot of my college fantasies.
I immediately felt a rush of warmth to my nether regions, along with a telltale moistness between my legs. Then he turned, saw me, and got the most gorgeous smile I’ve ever seen on his face.
Making a long story short, we’re both single right now, so……we had a real fun time last night, steaming up the windows of his SUV. I can’t think of a better person to have unleashed all my stored-up horniness on. No matter what happens around the dinner table tomorrow, it’s been the best Thanksgiving ever for me already. :D
And speaking of Thanksgivings, here’s a small token of my appreciation for my fellow sex-bloggers, erotica enthusiasts, and kinky kindred spirits:
Saturday, November 20th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
Wow. More than two years ago (how time flies!) I posted this rant (and this follow-up) about how lying Bardex lawyers were sending bogus demand letters around the net in an attempt to suppress discussion of the sexual uses of the Bardex balloon catheter.
Can you believe those donkey-raping smegma-sniffers are still at it?
Friday, September 24th, 2004 -- by Aphrodite
Okay, so this an entirely predictable post. I’ve been waiting seven days to see what Gina Lynn would write on in her first Wired Magazine “Sex Drive” column. So after I gulped down enough coffee for my eyes and fingers to work moderately well, I fired up the ol’ browser and mosied over, to read about a new remote-controlled dildo that is seriously remotely controlled:
In other words, a man can be thrusting in Cleveland while a woman is penetrated in Seattle, and the cybersex experience gets one step closer to the holodeck.
Here’s a link to the entire interesting column. As someone who’s never had a need for sex toys (but that day is getting closer), this whole idea is weirdly kinky-cool.
Wednesday, May 12th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
This card looks pretty innocuous on the outside, but it gets better as you read inside:
Tuesday, May 4th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
Naked Loft Party has a whole new look, and it’s spiffy.
Fair warning, top entry at the moment is an item entitled “Kink” that starts:
I pace around the living room, my face twisted into a grimace. No more 256 ounce SuperValu fountain drinks for me.
I hear the bath running.
“What the fuck is she doing in there? I told her I have to go.”
“Go in then,” Leslie tells me.
May as well the girls never lock the door anyway. I find Nova in the tub, splashing about in three inches of bathwater and playing with herself. She’s grinning at me.
The rest of that story goes exactly where you think it does.
Monday, March 29th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
I suppose it’s a little surprising it took all this time for the fire and brimstone brigade to come around here. In case you missed it, my comments were graced with this lovely sentiment, unburdened by any actual discussion of or engagement with the topic of my post:
“Whosoever was not found written in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire.”
Which is from Revelations 20:15, although the commenter with the barbecue fetish was apparently too busy visualizing roasted human flesh to bother saying so. Having assumed, for blogging purposes, the identity of the Roman god of intoxication and orgies, I naturally find this sort of badly-directed preaching to be at least as funny as Io in her heifer suit.
Although this particular sex blog is not the place for discussions of Christian religion, me being neither Christian nor convertible, there’s no particular reason why sex blogs (even kinky ones) can’t handle the subject with grace, intelligence, and wit when it comes up. Alas, that’s apparently too much to expect from the littering pamphleteers with the sulphurous savor of burning flesh in their nostrils.
Thursday, February 12th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
Despite its title, the article “Why I Can’t Rape My Wife” is pretty damned funny:
I’ve always wanted to be the High Lord of Depravity, but being fundamentally lazy and naive, I’ve come to realize that frankly, kinky sex is just too much work.
I broke up laughing at this:
Here’s the secret of cheap bondage: Your partner’s faking it. That ad-libbed knot at the right bedpost slipped twenty minutes ago, and he’s been working overtime to keep his hand in place. That blindfold-cum-scarf? She’s been peeking out from under since you started. Unless you’re some kind of sadistic boy scout, your trivial attempts at impromptu bondage are doomed to failure. You need the professional equipment, pal.
Long but worth it.
Friday, January 9th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
Kinkspeak wrote in to alert me to her brand new erotica blog, Exit To Erotica. Here’s a sample from a bit called “Sweet Honey“:
right now i am having fantasies of bathing in warm honey. i imagine first placing my foot into it, feeling the warmth oozing in between each toe and then stepping in and slowly immersing bit by bit the rest of my body until only my face is uncovered. i lean back and let my hair also become saturated with honey.
honey. filled with antibiotics that not only soothe your sore throat but also smooth over your skin. honey, yellow and clear, melted gold.
Mmmm, honey. “Will ma’am be wanting her licking boy later?”
Sunday, December 28th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
When I enabled comments, I explained “I welcome your comments, but I’m simply not interested in creating a forum for haters, condemnators, repressive creeps, and the like.”
I hate to have to repeat this, but there’s been a few comments consisting of nothing more than condemnatory phrases like “that’s sick” or “that’s wrong.” I’ve been deleting them along with all the spammy “come visit my site” comments, but I’d prefer not to have to do that. Empty condemnation has no place here. I simply refuse to let ErosBlog become a forum for condemning other people’s kinks.
That is all.
Monday, December 22nd, 2003 -- by Bacchus
A new (to me) blog called Japaneze (dead link removed) — full of kinky links and small observations, like this one:
Latex examination gloves – every bedroom should have a box. Sadly, some people have a latex allergy and so miss out on the pleasure of rolling on a glove, letting the latex grip your skin before rubbing vaseline on the fingers and probing into a deep dark and tight hole. You know, using latex sometimes just makes it easier for both partners.
Thursday, December 18th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
A couple of days ago I got a request for help. Someone was trying without success to find the link to this cute kitty cat in my archives. But the thing that made me giggle was the disclaimer that came with the request: “I swear it’s not about some personal kink of mine!”
Tuesday, November 4th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
“There’s this woman I’ve been getting to know….”
When a man says that, you just know the story’s about to start getting good. The average man wouldn’t even bring it up unless things were about to get interesting.
So. There’s this woman I’ve been getting to know.
We started flirting on a bulletin board. Just playful stuff.
Then it was emails. Lots of emails. Long, friendly, intimate, funny, wide-ranging emails. Emails that said too much. And that was OK. Better than OK, it was fine. Fine and fun. Exciting.
Somewhere in there, an exchange of photos. Better and better. Yum. And she’s still talking to me after seeing my picture, so I guess she just thought I was wearing a Shrek costume. (That’s a joke, folks – my skin’s not that color. Ba-da-boom.)
Then the chats started. Are internet chats supposed to last that many hours? Who cares? Lots of teasing and comparing notes and swapping life stories and just talking about what happened today and yesterday and tomorrow. Wistful complaints about the time zones and latitudes separating us. Increasingly vociferous cursing at the ravages of geography. Talk (hints at first, running both ways, the careful feints of the anxious-not-to-be-too-eager) of a visit. Sex talk too, frank discussions about what we like, sharing of favorite stories and photos, even some cybersex… but this post is not about the juicy details.
Oh, stop giving me that look. Maybe next time. If you’re nice. It’s one thing for me to post salacious links and wisecrack about other people’s intimate disclosures, but in writing this post I’m swiftly gaining a whole new appreciation for the courage of the folks who write about the nitty gritty of their romantic lives and the pleasures and pitfalls and uncertainties thereof. Any fool can post a dirty link, but this game is not for sissies. Especially when – wave, everybody! – the nymph at the heart of the matter reads the blog.
So anyway. We both are vividly aware that it’s still early days. Nobody wants to be that guy, or that girl, who falls head over heels for a fantasy person who turns out never to have existed except in the imagination. Nobody wants to slink home, dejected, after a first meeting has been torpedoed by a cruelly unexpected lack of chemistry. We’ve been around the block, we both know how easily this story can end badly.
And yet….
She’s merry and delightful and at least as kinky as me – in several very fun ways. And a joy to talk to on the phone. Oh, did I not mention the phone calls? Four so far. The first one lasted about six hours. Mmmm, I haven’t laughed so well in… years. Last night, we chatted for three hours online, then she called and we spent another six or seven hours on the phone. Tonight we kept it to four hours. With difficulty.
What’s next? Damfino. Damfweeno, to coin a phrase. Let’s just say that when DW talks of her Aussie, and his conditional cases, and her own smiling calculations, I recognize where they both are coming from.
Updates, I promise you, as events warrant.
Friday, May 30th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Yesterday the Reverse Cowgirl posted a link to an appeal from Fantagraphics Books, which is in a dangerous cash flow crunch that might alternatively be described as a “bulging warehouse” crunch. Book rich and cash poor — who among us can’t be sympathetic to that universal plight of the literate?
Anyway, this whole matter cut no onions with Bacchus, because he’s not generally a comic book guy and the Fantagraphics guys apparently are. And here’s the mind-boggling part — nowhere in their “buy our books!” appeal did they mention their ownership of the Eros Comix imprint, to whom we all owe thanks for the kinky insectile slitherings, moanings, and writhings of comics like Bondage Fairies, not to mention the wholesome spankings and 1950s June Cleaver dildo shenanigans of Housewives at Play. And too many other quality erotic titles to count.
This oversight on Fantagraphics’ part is possibly forgivable, as they’ve doubtless got good reasons for separating out their adult business and being low-profile about it. But it’s inexcusable for the Cowgirl not to have mentioned this trivial detail (unless, like Bacchus, she did not know it.)
Fortunately for all concerned, a mysterious stranger who calls himself Sam dropped an email. So now we know: Go buy some dirty comics today, if you want to be able to buy them tomorrow! It’s a good cause….
Friday, May 23rd, 2003 -- by Bacchus
The more vocal advocates for breast feeding argue that it’s an act that’s utterly without sexual significance, and that the sexual iconography of the exposed female breast is somehow destroyed by the proximity of a hungry infant. If they’re right, the following story has no place on a sex blog.
But who cares? This is just too deliciously kinky and European:
Woman who nursed puppies has no regrets
A young Norwegian mother who took a litter of puppies to her own breast when her dog died giving birth remains proud of her unusual move.
…
The drama began Friday November 8 when Skiaker’s Canarian Warren Hound, named Aida, started giving birth to a litter of 14 puppies. Suddenly the puppies stopped coming and the next stop was the vet’s office.
In the end, both Aida and three of the puppies died, while another three died later.
Those that survived were in desperate need of nourishment, and that’s when Skiaker impulsively took them to her breast. She fed them over that first weekend, until surrogate mother dogs could be found to take over.
Today, the eight surviving puppies (four males and four females) are back in the Skiaker’s home and in good health. So is baby Emil, now five months old and happy to play with his canine comrades in the Skiakers’ living room.
Deep in your heart you know that the video (if there were a video) of a blonde Norwegian lady breastfeeding puppies would sell for big bucks on Ebay.
Thursday, April 10th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
A while back ErosBlog linked to, and ridiculed, an alleged list of Rules For My Slave Girls. Now SpankBoss has posted a far more realistic sounding list of rules he found floating around somewhere:
1. I will not hum the theme from Jeopardy while Master decides which implement to spank me with.
…
6. Master does NOT hog the bed.
7. I will not refer to Master’s kitty as “snake food.”
…
14. I will not chew my collar.
15. I will not giggle during paddlings.
…
20. I will not make shadow puppets in the candlelight while Master is tying me up.
21. I will not critique how Master ties me up.
…
23. I will not go out-of-state when borrowing Master’s car during lunch.
…
29. It is unlikely that Master pushed all the covers onto my side of the bed so he could shiver all night.
…
48. I will not hoot with laughter when Master accidentally whacks himself on the back of the head with the flogger.
Now that sounds like a happy, if kinky, relationship. The rest are mostly just as fun, and funny, so go read ’em.
Thursday, February 6th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Your kink is not OK.
This guy says so. [Link died and was removed.]
The article is entitled “Fourteen Sexual Fantasies I just Don’t Understand” but when you read it, it’s a condemnation of anyone who does understand the fetishes in question.
Into watersports? You “nasty skank.” Older women? “Not sexy.” Like girls with body hair? “Bad news for you: you’re probably gay.” Foot Fetish? “Not even remotely affiliated with the sexual process.” Like shemales? “Just sick.” Wierd insertions? “Ain’t sexy.” Bestiality? “Not erotic.” “Excessive Bondage”? “Just not nice.” Female domination? Forget it — “It’s the role of the guy to be the dominator.” Cartoons? “Jerking off to a cartoon should be a last resort.” Pregnant women? You “sick fuck.”
Anyone reading the article is probably going to agree with some of these – certainly there are several of these fetishes that would send Bacchus screaming for the next county. But it’s unclear what is to be gained by condemning fetishes you don’t personally find sexy.
What a maroon. And on the evidence, a somewhat sexist and homophobic maroon to boot.
Friday, January 3rd, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Here’s some hardcore stick figure porn from The Petting Zoo:
Don’t miss their unique version of the hamster dance.
“Recycling” is also…special.
Other people’s children…what can one do?
Monday, December 30th, 2002 -- by Bacchus
Bukkake is one of those hard-core porn concepts that you either know about or you don’t. The Reverse Cowgirl mentions it all the time, but she’s not much help to the clueless. When the word comes up in conversation (yah, as if that happens every day) the folks who aren’t familiar with it look puzzled, and the folks who know what it means refuse to elaborate. Because how could one define this word in even semi-polite conversation?
Carly the Pornblographer gives it a shot, so to speak:
Bukkake is something that I have only a small amount of knowledge on, so some of the more learned members of our industry might want to chime in with some history. But as I understand it, the practice originated in Japan before rising to some popularity in the States. A Bukkake video usually features one of two things: either a girl getting spunked on by numerous (usually) anonymous cocks, or numerous (usually) anonymous cocks spunk into some kind of receptacle, and the girl guzzles it. This is what taking the Atkins Diet too far does to you.
Now if only someone could explain why this is sexy. Yah yah yah, different strokes for different folks, one person’s fetish is another person’s gross out, your kink is not my kink but that doesn’t mean your kink is not OK, et cetera, literally (in this case) ad nauseum. Bacchus still doesn’t get it.
That said, ErosBlog is going out on the cutting (shooting?) edge. If you really really want to know what bukkake is, here is a picture. Publishing a bukkake picture may be a blogging first. If it grosses you out, tough shit — you knew where you were going when you clicked the link.
If anyone feels this is a new low for ErosBlog, you may perhaps be right. Perhaps mixing a Long Island Iced Tea in the one-liter beer mug was not such a good idea. Alas:
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
— Omar Khayyam
Thursday, November 21st, 2002 -- by Bacchus
By popular demand (hey, it’s safe to assume the person who asked is popular) the thumbnails of the comment enforcement bear have been linked to the full sized version of those files. Fans of kinky anime-style illustration may hereby commence rejoicing!
Thursday, November 7th, 2002 -- by Bacchus
 Bacchus is pissed off. As a casual Google search reveals, there are lots of kinky people out there who enjoy giving each other sex enemas. And like any other kinky sex practice, it helps to have good tools. One brand of “anal retention catheter” (you know, a rubber tube for shoving up the ass, usually with one or more inflatable balloons to keep it there) is Bardex.
One would think that the maker of such devices would appreciate free publicity. One would be wrong. One must have failed to consider the kind of lawyers likely to be hired by people who make things to shove up your ass.
The result? Threatening letters to kinky folk on the web.
“By using BARDEX in connection with goods and services that do not originate with C.R. Bard, Inc., You are misrepresenting the source of these goods and services as well as deceiving the public. This use of BARDEX is likely to cause confusion as to origin of the products or services identified and dilute the value of our client’s registered mark in violation of the trademark laws. Furthermore, the manner in which you promote and advertise the products or services creates a negative image, damaging the reputation and goodwill associated with our client’s mark and products”.
The result? Some quality sites have been forced to revise their content — not because there’s any real risk that Bardex would win a lawsuit, but simply because the people involved can’t afford (in money, in time, or in energy) to fight.
What’s wrong with that? Well, as it happens, these lawyers are bluffing. The trademark law in question is the one that lets Nike shut down Ebay auctions for cheap Chinese knockoff shoes. References to bootleg goods really does “deceive the public” and “dilutes the value of the brand.”
The law does NOT let a brand owner decide how its products will be used. Nor does it allow the brand owner to stop people from talking about what they like to do with the product.
What Bardex is doing here — trying to stamp out web references to “non-medical” uses of its enema gear — is just plain old-fashioned cheap bullying. They don’t want their medical customers finding out (as if they didn’t already know) that people use their product to have a little anal fun. And they have learned that they can threaten folks who do that, to get them to shut up about it.
Alas, it doesn’t usually make sense to fight these assholes when they send their threatening letters. Although you could win in court, it could easily cost tens of thousands of dollars to get that victory. No little site about pervy sex has that kind of revenue, and even kinky folks have families to feed.
These guys know they don’t have a legal leg to stand on, but they know that when they send out their insupportable legalistic nastygrams, most folks will have no choice but to comply. Even by the ethical standards for which lawyers are already infamous, that’s just disgusting. Weasels Lawyers who lie, and know they are lying, and do it deliberately and with intent to intimidate, are just rotten. And so are the folks who hire them.
This site has yet to make a dime. Your host has no assets that can readily be attached. And your host’s host can be replaced, complete with a DNS update, in under 24 hours. So, Bardex, this is for you:
BARDEX is BEST
for kinky enema butt sex!
Deal with it.
Wednesday, October 16th, 2002 -- by Bacchus
In a shameless bid for publicity, a notorious environmental organization has released a 10-point guide to environmentally friendly sex. No, I am afraid I am not making this up. The tips range from the ludicrously obvious to drop-in-the-bucket pointlessness (from an environmental standpoint, anyway):
Tips include turning off the lights to conserve energy (‘if you want to see your partner then have sex during the day’), making sure your garden is pesticide-free for alfresco activities (‘would you really want to set your bare bottom on weedkiller?’) and banning lubricants such as petroleum jelly (‘Esso’s screwing the planet but you don’t have to.’)
It gets worse:
And if you and your partner indulge in any spanking or bondage then Greenpeace advocate ‘looking for timber and paddles certified by the only internationally recognised ecological forest certification organisation, the Forest Stewardship Council.’
Kinky sex for the politically correct! Bah, give me a good old fashioned made-in-the-USA paddle chainsawed from the heart of a clear-cut old-growth Tongass National Forest yellow cedar tree any day. Guaranteed to give the nymphs that old fashioned personal tingle, while providing high-wage jobs for hard-working American loggers!
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