Saturday, 31 August 2019

I just published some really dark erotica

I wrote something really fucked up.
My writing just took me to a really dark place. I wrote something really fucked up.

For example, Severus, the hero, and his friends have just been captured by Celtic Amazons. Imagine his surprise to discover his hot ex wife is one of the slaves!
Severus rolled back onto his knees and started to stand. The chain rattled and tugged at his balls. Somehow it was less embarrassing to kneel. “Look, Vesta,” he said. “When I heard the Ninth were marching north, I pulled strings to get transferred to it. I came her to get you.”
“How very brave,” said Vesta. “After five years. But you should have come and got me when I left you, not let your friends persuade you to divorce me. If you hadn’t divorced me, then I wouldn’t have had to marry Sejanus, and he wouldn’t have taken me beyond the Wall, and barbarians wouldn’t have enslaved me.” She touched the iron slave collar that wound around her delicate throat.
Severus chewed his lip. The collar was all the more shocking because, despite the short off-white tunic, Vesta didn’t otherwise look like a slave. She was too well groomed, too confident in her posture, and her long blond hair was piled up on her head, not cut short as was the custom for slaves among both Romans and Celts. “I never gave up on you,” he said. “I haven’t changed my will either.”
“She talks way too much,” said Vindex. “Women like that aren’t worth fighting over.” He caught Severus’s look. “Just saying.”
Vesta laughed. “Neither of you can have me now.” She raised the hem of her short tunic revealing white-blond pubic hair and…
“Steady on,” began Severus, even as his penis twitched into life in anticipation of once again seeing her hungrily bulging inner lips that he still pictured when he masturbated, or paid for a blow job in the baths.
“By Jupiter!” exclaimed Horatius. “That’s harsh.”
A band of silver chainmail covered Vesta’s slit from top to bottom like a malign cobweb. It was actually anchored in her outer lips, with little hoops like earrings piercing the soft flesh. There was no reddening of the surrounding skin, and the blond curls grew through the edges of the band like weeds through an abandoned fisherman’s net.
Severus had a vision of Vesta when they were newly wed: fingering herself so her inner lips writhed, parting her legs to let in his penis, and the sounds she made when she came, the way a flush would spread from her cheeks to her throat and all the way to her honey-white breasts.
“He! He!” cackled the old man [He's also a prisoner - been here a long time]. “All the slave girls are like that.”
“That’s been there a long time,” blurted Severus.
“Five years,” she said.
“No wonder she’s cranky,” said Horatius.
Vesta smiled tightly. “You have no idea.”
A chain rattled. The old man had an erection and was starting to masturbate. “No orgasms for the little Roman hussies,” he gasped.
Maybe it was the effect of 11 months in permanent chastity, or maybe my imagination has been liberated by leaving behind Amazon and its consent theatre... whatever it was, I just wrote a story of real slavery, with piercings and castrations (off screen!), and other men's erections, even a bit of cuckoldry.

Unlike my other fantasy Femdom worlds, this is not a place I'd remotely want to go, though it was a hell of a turn on to write it.

It'll take some unpacking. In the mean time, go download the sample so you know what I'm talking about.

CLICK HERE to download my Femdom Erotica (all written while chaste!)
(For ebook format, 
Lulu or iTunes.)

Friday, 9 August 2019

"My dominant didn't read my mind" - how to avoid accidental consent violations (no collar, no kink)

I keep seeing posts from inexperienced female subs, along the lines of:
"We were doing Consensual Non-Consent, but it got uncomfortable. I didn't safeword because I froze up. Now I feel traumatised. Was this abuse?"
If I were a maledom, I would find such posts mildly terrifying.

Yes, of course, feelings are real, trauma is real. Freezing up is a real thing.


Unscripted BDSM is an adult extreme sport, thrilling but hazardous. Things are bound to go wrong.

The only certainty is that you will at some point get emotionally or physically hurt. Safe words are vital, but one of the hazards of BDSM is that you might discover you can't use yours. (Another hazard is the slippery slope.)

The only way a dominant can 100% avoid creating a distressing experience is if they are are always performing dominance, crafting an experience for the sub, never just being dominant.

It's unrealistic to expect a partner to break the taboo of being dominant and also reliably read non verbal cues that contradict the agreed context, and do so during an actual sexual act.

It's also unfair.

Why would a normal person want to enter a situation where they only find out whether or not they are an abuser after the event?

I think most of these couples set themselves up for the situation by wanting to move smoothly between vanilla and kink in the moment. Some of it is "not owning your kink", and some of it - I think - is a gendered problem; for whatever reasons, women tend to appreciate subtlety and nuance in communication, and men with a dominant streak like the idea of being able to grab what they want.

Unfortunately, there's not much room for nuance in BDSM, which is one of its main selling points. So, unless you are very robust indeed, you need some way of signalling which mode you are in.

Buy a collar that doesn't lock and have a rule: no collar, no kink.

This will enable each of you to ask for kink indirectly - you can just put the collar on, or he can ask you if you want to wear it, or one or the other of you can leave it out as a hint - and also signal when kink is over. It will also have the added benefit of affirming that you are being submissive, and not  a doormat.

Or don't, but then don't complain of there are tears before, during or after bedtime.

Learn how to how to walk the same Femdom path with your partner! 
CLICK HERE to download my Femdom Erotica (all written while chaste!)
(For ebook format, 
Lulu or iTunes.)

Thursday, 1 August 2019

Midweek Femdom: Last night, this morning

It's hard to blog at the moment. Here's why.

Last night, Xena had a report to read. I knelt at the end of the bed and mutely massaged her feet for an hour.

For those that have just tuned in, she keeps me in a Custom Chastity Saint. I was sealed for almost a year, then was released for a couple of weeks - I'm still processing that! - now I'm locked until a trip in a couple of weeks.

Honestly, she just wanted a foot rub while she worked. She was totally using me...

Which - plus she has nice feet - totally turned me on.

Then around midnight she beat me - I hadn't reached my daily wordcount. Sure, beating is a BDSM thing and turned me on. However, it hurt enough that today I'm typing like a lunatic. (I'm taking a break to write this otherwise my brain would explode.)

Finally, she banished me to my cell - her dressing room where I have a bedding roll amidst her boots and shoes. I closed the door but heard her rummaging in the toy drawer.

You see, the beating had also turned her on.

I had to lie there for half an hour, my buttocks smarting, my cock hard in its cage, while the vibrator buzzed in the next room. Then her light went off.

In the morning, I emerged to kneel on the floor until she wanted breakfast. Then coffee. She told me my tasks for the day, remind me about word count, and went off to work.

And that's pretty much routine for me.

Sure, the majority of the time we're just like any other couple, but that majority is pretty slim and distributed in the early evening. Every night at a minimum finds me kneeling on the floor waiting to be called to bed.

None of it is very epic, nor have there been any major high points... which is fine. This is as happy as I have ever been. I get more Femdom in a working week, than many subs my generation see in a lifetime.

Plus, it's real. 

None of it was scripted. The rules - the culture, if you like - of my slavery were negotiated. My wife can treat me like a slave if she treats me as a slave. I;m not a doormat, I'm a submissive. Within that framework,  she was pretty much suiting herself. 

Xena - an introvert - was peopled out, had work to do, wanted a foot rub, didn't want an audience when she masturbated, did want the bed to herself. It was as if the power relationship were real.

It turns me on just thinking about it. The snag is I can't wank and I have five more pages of erotica to write before she comes home...

Learn how to how to walk the same Femdom path with your partner! 
(Also Lulu or iTunes.)