Sideways

‘Come here,’ he says.

It’s not a request, not in that tone of voice. She approaches cautiously to where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. He turns her sideways, then puts both hands up under her skirt, one at the front, one at the back. Hooking his fingers in the waistband of her knickers, he slides them down to her knees. He moves his right hand up again, slipping between her legs, just cupping her cunt, nice and comfortable. His left hand strokes her bare bottom, caressing the skin slowly, then kneading the flesh.

He dips the index finger of his left hand into her cunt. She’s wet already. He moves it around a little, takes it out and pushes it in her ass, all the way up. She grunts and shifts from one leg to the other.

‘Keep still,’ he says.

He pushes the middle and ring fingers of his left hand into her cunt, so that with one hand he’s penetrating her fore and aft. He works his fingers around a little. Then he thrusts the middle finger of his right hand into her cunt too. When it’s nice and wet he pulls it out and slides the tip over her clit, spreading the slippery wetness. She gasps and puts a hand on his shoulder to steady herself; she’s feeling a little weak at the knees.

He takes more wetness from her cunt and spreads it over her clit. He circles it slowly, taking his time. She wouldn’t mind if he did it a little faster, maybe even pressing a little harder. But she knows better than to ask. Even so, she feels he needs to know how things are.

‘I don’t think I can come standing up,’ she says.

‘Who said anything about coming?’ he answers.

Oh, so it’s going to be like that. Well, of course it is, she thinks. What did I expect? His fingers are still working, one hand inside her, the other hand solely dedicated to her clit. She thinks a bit more. Maybe, since what he’s doing is so lovely, if it goes on long enough, she might manage to come after all. But would she need permission? Or did he mean, she doesn’t get to come at all? She doesn’t know what to think. He’s fucking with her head, that much she does know.

She’s so wet now she can feel it dribbling down the inside of her thigh. And then she says to herself, why am I doing all this thinking, about what he wants and what he’ll let me do? He’s told me often enough, when it’s like this don’t think, just surrender and be guided. After all, she wants what he wants, doesn’t she? And this is so obviously what he wants, just a girl who will stand and let him play with her, in any way he cares to, for as long as it takes. What could be simpler?

Violation

‘Safe, sane and consensual’ is the mantra of the d/s community. It’s not a bad set of guidelines. Novices won’t come to much harm if they stick to that; though one might query the use of the word sane. Who decides what is sane? I’ve done some things that many vanilla folk would regard as crazy, or at least seriously weird. But I suppose we all know a psycho when we meet one. At least I hope so.

However, when you get deeply into another person and they share your sexual kinks, there’s often an urge to go further, to push the envelope. This isn’t necessarily out of boredom, though it might be; it can happen that even kinky stuff can get to be a bit routine. But I’m thinking more about a situation where you have an intuition about the other person, a sense that they are open to much more than you have done so far, that you are pushing against an open door. What were once perceived as limits, not to be crossed, can in themselves become the focus of excitement. I think this is how some people suddenly find themselves switching, find their inner dom where once they had been only a sub, or else discover a taste for bisexuality. Some people just strike sparks off you and bring out things no one else can see in you, perhaps not even you yourself.

I can feel this with flower. I know I can take her further than she’s ever been; in some ways I have already. One area which appeals to me, and which I suspect she might be open to, is pushing against the notion of consent. I’ve held back from this so far, probably from vestigial feelings of political correctness. I was brought up to accept that no means no. And I still believe it. Except that in d/s it’s more complicated than that.

A lot of women, and not necessarily only those who would call themselves submissive, have fantasies of forced sex. They imagine themselves kidnapped, imprisoned, maybe even chained to a wall in a deep, dark dungeon and used mercilessly and relentlessly by their captors. I think it’s not only harmless to have such fantasies of abduction and rape; it can be fun, even healthy, to act them out (as fantasies, of course), if you can find the right person.

In a sense, all domination of a submissive woman is a kind of violation. A violation by consent, if you will. She voluntarily gives up her right to deny the dominant what he wants. Yes, I know all about hard limits, and of course only someone who wasn’t sane would behave as if there were truly no limits. But what d/s allows is the exploration of that area between on the one hand the absolute ne plus ultra of those limits which are necessary for self-preservation and well-being, and on the other, the safe, willing and mutual indulgence of fancy. This is the area, somewhere between danger and safety, where the edgy stuff gets done, where the excitement really mounts. Is he going to go too far? Does she really have such limits, or can I push her past them?

Does it make any sense to speak of consensual non-consent? Probably not to those who have never experienced the urge towards such things. But to those of us who are willing to explore what may make others uncomfortable, it makes all the sense in the world. What the submissive really wants is not to be forced to do things that truly have no sexual appeal for her (well, she might, but in wishing for them she perversely sexualises what was previously of no erotic interest). What she wants most, I think, is to be forced to do the things she only thinks about (or does when they are put in her mind) and doesn’t dare to do, that she’s ashamed to do or too nervous. She wants to have her inhibitions overpowered. Some readers objected in the post titled ‘Exposure’ to my putting up flower’s pictures when she didn’t like the consequences, as if I had put them up solely to satisfy my own selfish wish to brag about her, ignoring her misgivings. What I maybe should have made clear was the delicate and fascinating negotiations which took place between us, during which she went from horror at the idea to a kind of fascination with it. She’s not stupid. She knew what would happen in a general way, that guys would jerk off to pictures of her naked. And she increasingly found the idea of being flaunted to be, perversely, rather exciting.

One night when she stayed with me, after we had worked our way through two or three exciting little sexual scenarios and it was time to sleep, she asked me if I wanted to chain her to the bed. She was wearing a collar and leash, and she allowed me to padlock the leash to the bedpost so she couldn’t get away. And that’s how I know she’s interested in forcible restraint. Against her will. Sort of.

Woman as object

Let me describe some images. In the first, two men, smartly dressed in suits, are seated on a sofa. In front of them stands a girl, naked. The point of view shows the girl from behind; she has a pretty bottom. It also shows the expressions on the men’s faces. There’s something slightly disdainful, arrogant, even indifferent. It’s as if there’s nothing unusual about having a naked girl parade in front of them; almost as if it’s their right.

Another image. Another naked girl. She is lying on a table. One man stands by her head, his hands on her shoulders. The other man, facing the camera, is on the far side of the table, bending over her. One hand is flat on her belly, as if holding her in position. His other hand is between her legs. We can’t see whether his fingers are inside her, only that what he is doing is intrusive. Each of the men is dressed in a dinner jacket; obviously it’s not a medical examination. Their expressions are calm, unemotional. The girl looks slight dazed. Maybe she’s on drugs, or in subspace.

A third image. A man in a suit leans nonchalantly against a mantelpiece, his gaze directed at the girl who stands in front of him. We see her from behind. Her skirt is about her ankles. She’s dressed in a black bra, stockings and suspenders. Her knickers are semi-transparent, in a pale blue that matches the colour of her skirt. We can’t see her face, but her stance suggests she is poised as if ready for some sort of movement, perhaps expecting the man to order another item of clothing to be removed.

In the last image a girl kneels naked on the floor, her back to a man seated in a chair. The girl is tied up; her wrists are bound to her ankles, and another rope binds her thighs up tightly to her waist, so that she is bent double. The man in the chair, who is fully clothed, is reading a book, ignoring the girl.

What interests me about all these images is not that you see a pretty girl naked or nearly so (though that’s never unwelcome). It’s the mood of aloofness, of studied indifference displayed by the men. The girl is available, but they appear in no hurry to use her. In only one image is anyone touching the girl, and this is in the manner of a dispassionate inspection. Something may come of it, but possibly not.

I find these images highly erotic. Either we don’t see the girl’s face at all, or if we do it expresses no emotion. The pictures communicate the essence of objectification, that particular mode of dominance that removes from the sexual equation any possibility that the girl could have an input into what might happen next. She isn’t being shamed into admitting that she’s a slut, she isn’t being made to avow her obedience. She can’t even be sure that the men actually want her. From their expressions they might simply be bored. Perhaps they’ve seen too many pretty, naked girls. Perhaps there’s another girl waiting in the wings whom they might prefer. Perhaps they’ll eventually get round to using her, if they feel like it.

It is of course the essence of sexism as defined by feminists, this treating the woman as merely an object. Let me hasten to say I like feminists. I approve of them. So why do I allow myself to enjoy these images? Because I know that some women are excited by them too, even women who would call themselves feminists. In a d/s context, these images are acceptable. If a woman is aroused by being used as these women are, if in the moment of sexual engagement she wants to be treated like an object, by a man who understands her motives, then the experience is liberating for her, not oppressive.

Cock-tease

‘Come here.’

She crosses over to where he stands by the window.

‘On your knees.’

She gets down in front of him. The hotel faces onto a tall building not far away; another hotel perhaps. An alert observer looking out of an opposite window might just possibly spot them.

He unzips, takes out his cock. It’s tumescent, thick but not yet hard.

‘Do exactly as I say. Nothing else.’

He peels back the foreskin and holds his cock under her nose. She inhales his scent; her cunt feels flushed, hot. He rubs the end of his cock slowly across her lips. She resists the urge to open her mouth.

‘Kiss it,’ he says. ‘Just the tip.’

She does so, slowly, tenderly.

‘Now kiss all the way down the shaft to the bottom, and back up again.’

She puckers up her lips and slowly kisses down, then up.

‘Lick the tip,’ he says.

She curls her tongue around the head, sliding it slippery over the so soft skin.

‘Good girl,’ he says. ‘Now, wrap your lips around the head and hold in it your mouth. Don’t suck.’

He makes her hold it there for a minute or two. He’s fully hard now. Then he grabs her by the hair and puts her face into position before thrusting his cock slowly and steadily right into her mouth, until the head is at the back of her throat. After a while she begins to choke. He pulls back to give her air, then pushes in again. He does this a third time, for longer. She’s gasping for air when he finally pulls his cock from her mouth.

‘That was just a taster,’ he says. ‘Amuse-bouche.’

He puts his cock away. She knows better than to register her disappointment.

‘The main course comes later,’ he says. ‘When I’ve worked up your appetite.’

Exposure

I’ve taken quite a few photographs of her. One of the things that most impressed me about her when we met is that she let me snap away without trying to control what pictures I took. When a girl gives you that freedom, you feel really honoured by her trust. She didn’t turn her face away, or cross her legs, or try to be prim or bashful. She let me do what I wanted. Of course she’s submissive, and isn’t that what submissive girls do? But it’s not as simple as that; not by a long way. Even girls who will let you do all sorts of things to them may not let you make a visual record.

You’ll never see these pictures on this site. It isn’t that kind of blog. But once, for a brief moment, if you got lucky, you might have seen some of them somewhere else. We got to chatting online and I was teasing her a little, as I have been known to do. (She says I’m mean but I can’t help it. I never knew a girl that was more fun to tease.) Anyway, the subject of my pictures came up. Like any girl, she’s hyper-critical of her physical appearance, and what she looks like in a photo. But I said, the pictures are lovely and you are so hot. It’s a shame to keep them all to myself. She said, what do you mean? I said, I think I might just post them somewhere. You wouldn’t dare, she said. I think she must have known, she’s a smart girl, that this was unlikely to deter me; quite the opposite. Of course I won’t display any pictures that show your face, I said; but I think there are one or two that would bear public exhibition. She was starting to get a little scared now. But I know her well; she’s a girl who likes to push the envelope. She’s brave and daring and always ready to explore another way of being kinky, and I think she was starting to think there might be pleasure in it for her too. All submissive girls are a bit narcissistic, aren’t they? They like to be the centre of attention, show off a little bit, and they like their dom to be proud of them. So it didn’t take long for me to persuade her. If you really want to do it, I will agree, she said. I said, you know what’s going to happen. Pimply youths will jerk off while goggling at a picture of your ass. So let them, she said. She’s a generous girl.

She asked me why I wanted to make her pictures public. It was a good question, and I thought about it. I said, it’s a bit like the idea of sharing you with another man, making you common property. Or my property, to be disposed of as I please. And I like the idea of others guys perving on pictures of your ass, because they will never get to do the things to it that I have done. It’s a kind of bragging, I suppose.

I chose a few pictures that I thought were very sexy but safe (no face in view). In one I like very much she is lying face-down on the bed, hog-tied. Her hands and feet are cuffed behind her back, then chained together. She’s completely immobilised, a very pretty naked body trussed up ready for whatever one has in mind. I chose a couple of other pictures which are, shall we say, not only revealing but show just what a girl can achieve when she puts her mind to it. I put them up on Yuvutu. (Yes, they show photographs as well as videos.)

And there they stayed for a couple of days. There were one or two comments from viewers, but nothing very arresting (‘nice ass!’, etc.). There are so many pictures up there that yours soon slip to the back of the queue. I thought that was the last I’d hear of them. Until one day I chanced to look at some tumblr site, and there was one of my pictures of her, reblogged. And with a comment. And the reblogging had been in its turn reblogged. The picture had spun off into cyberspace, being endlessly reproduced and recirculated.

Well, fine. I suppose we should have foreseen that. And indeed, if no one liked the picture of her ass enough to reblog it, perhaps we’d have been disappointed. All the same, it’s a little disconcerting to realise you have absolutely no control over your own pictures once you have put them up there. Forget intellectual property rights. What upset her was, it got reblogged by scruffy little sites that were using pictures of her lovely bottom to enhance their rather tawdry displays. Unfortunately you can’t control what people do with your images once they are out there, and you can’t control the context in which they are recycled.

Even so, we might do it again sometime. Perhaps even a video. No! she says firmly. But doms don’t take no for an answer.

The Killer Inside Me

A few weeks back I wrote about Leap Year, a movie in which a woman finds a lover to subject her to the series of sado-masochistic acts which she craves. I thought the movie raised the question of whether a taste for this kind of sex can be traced back to some trauma in a woman’s upbringing. Now along comes The Killer Inside Me, about a psychopathic cop who gets his kicks from the sadistic abuse of women.

The film is directed by Michael Winterbottom, a British director I have admired for some time. It’s based on a novel by Jim Thompson, who wrote several successful noir thrillers in the 1950s. Casey Affleck plays the cop, who half-kills one girl with his bare hands and succeeds in beating another to death. Once again there is a suggestion that an explanation for the central character’s sexuality is to be found in a childhood experience. The cop’s father used to beat his mother for pleasure, and one time she invited him, when a child, to spank her bottom (an experience liable to turn anyone a bit peculiar in later life, one might think).

The two principal beatings of the film are carried out because the cop needs to frame someone else for the crimes. They are savage, almost unwatchable. Much of the commentary on the film concerned the issue of whether the depiction of such violence against women could ever be justified. However, I think there’s another issue. Does the film try to make a psychological connection between murderous violence against women, and a taste for spanking?

The cop is not only a killer; he enjoys beating his girlfriends’ bottoms, and they enjoy having him do it. It’s made very clear it’s consensual. The issue is whether his enjoyment of this is seen as pathological, and whether there is some natural progression from spanking for pleasure to beating a girl to death. It’s a movie, not a clinical case history; it doesn’t try to argue anything, it just shows things happening and you have to work out for yourself what the connection between them is, if anything. But even though it’s a very well-made piece of work, it did get my back up a bit. Once again, it feels like d/s folk are being demonised.

Perhaps I’m paranoid; although misunderstood minorities (and I think as d/s practitioners we can include ourselves in such a category) are very apt to sense they’re being got at, because so often they are. I don’t think the film provides any clear answers about what makes men interested in sexual domination. It certainly isn’t saying all men who like to spank girls are potential killers; at least, I think not. But all the same, as a man who does like to spank girls, it left me feeling a bit defensive.

It also left me wondering, not for the first time, why men do like to spank. When discussing Leap Year, my readers had some extremely insightful things to say about the relation some submissive women have to their mothers. I learned a lot from what emerged from those discussions. Now, I’m trying to think about these matters from my own position. Unfortunately, looking into my own experience doesn’t help me much. I can’t find anything in my childhood that explains how I am sexually. Perhaps a Freudian would say I’m repressing things; but if I am you’ll never know, and nor will I, because they are repressed, and I’m not about to let someone go digging around inside my head on the off-chance there’s a killer in there. You’ll have to take my word for it that my upbringing was normal. (Though of course if you are a strict Freudian you believe that what passes for normality is pretty weird in itself. I mean, the Oedipus complex isn’t something that makes you feel exactly comfortable about your mummy and daddy, is it?)

Recently I had a long lunch with a charming woman who has her own, highly successful, blog. Our conversation was pretty wide-ranging, but at one point we did get on to what makes us what we are (she’s kinky too, though I won’t say how). She told me about a man she knew who was abused by his father, sexually and physically. His mother, who might have protected him, didn’t raise a finger in his defence, being herself in thrall to his father. The result was that when he grew to manhood he started to take his revenge on women, not through murdering them, but through seeking out women who would allow him to subject them to extreme pain. In this way he could ‘punish’ his mother for her failure to safeguard him.

I think that’s quite a compelling case-history; you can see the logic. But it doesn’t remotely come close to my own situation, nor I suspect to that of many doms. I guess if I had to think really hard and come up with some sort of account of my own psycho-sexual make-up, it would be something like this. The English middle classes are notorious for their suppression of emotion and of sex. At least they were when I was growing up, in a world rather different from today. In our house sex was never ever mentioned. And nobody raised their voice. Emotion was undoubtedly present, but it was battened down. Don’t express yourself. Stay buttoned up. Letting your feelings show was something for vulgar people, or other nationalities. I absorbed this way of behaviour and it came to control my sex life (such as it was in those early days!). Be polite to girls, even diffident. Good manners is the ultimate virtue. And nice girls don’t really like sex, so don’t expect much.

It took me years to realise that women were as much volcanoes of seething sexual passion as I was, and even longer to see that, just as I desired to bring women under my control sexually, there were women who wanted exactly that, to be controlled. I think that my eventual self-liberation, when I felt free to express what I wanted, and indeed take it when offered, was in some sense a process of freeing myself from those early days of repression, and of good manners. Perhaps you can’t imagine what a liberation it is to be able to say to a girl, come here, bend over, lift up your skirt. Without having to add please, without wondering if I am being too forward, without manners coming into it at all. I occasionally wonder whether all men would be doms if they dared. But I’m probably wrong about that.

Yuvutu

When the internet first got going (which already seems like half a lifetime away), like many people, men especially I’d guess, I was seduced by internet porn. It was a cornucopia, anything you wanted, any time of day and much of it free. So I indulged. But I soon became sated. It wasn’t long before I wearied of the hopeless acting (all that screaming and grunting), the plastic tits, the tacky tattoos, the appalling taste in clothes (when there were any), the endless repetition of the same acts (girl strips off, sucks man’s cock; he sticks it in her, fucks for a while then comes on her ass/tits/face. The End).

So I more or less stopped watching. But now and again, if I’m bored for a moment, I’ll take a look at Yuvutu. Much of that too is tacky and repetitive. The production values are almost zero. Few of the people doing the filming have any idea where to put the camera, or even how to focus it. Lots of the clips are so dark or fuzzy you can hardly make out anything at all. But its saving grace is that (with very few exceptions) the acts recorded for our consumption are real, between real people doing things for no other reason than that it excites them. Now and again you get a genuine feel of the erotic, when a couple is really getting off on each other in a way that makes you wish you were there, or somewhere where you too were getting off with someone.

Since it is real people, they don’t conform to stereotypes of what sexual performers should look like. There are all shapes and sizes, and I mean, all sizes. There’s no way round this: some of the people on the site are, um, big. Actually it’s not always the slim ones who are the most sexy. But it has to be said that it’s a sign of bravery that some of them expose their bodies to public gaze, and indeed take pride in it. ‘Fuck a fat woman’ was the heading of a recent clip, and it was true to its word. Sometimes there are cruel comments from viewers, and I’ve stopped reading the comments now because although they can be funny, they usually aren’t very nice. People feel they have the right to say all sorts of things they would never say to someone’s face, and somehow I don’t like that.

Several things strike me about what’s on offer. First, most of it is shot by men. It’s their point of view that you see (not that there’s any great surprise in that). And maybe that’s why there are so many blow-jobs and facials. If it’s the man holding the camera then just about the easiest thing for him to shoot is a woman sucking his cock. Interestingly, I’d say that most of the clips shot by women are not of men doing things, but of themselves masturbating for the camera. And not just masturbating; there are some quite eye-watering insertions on view. By contrast, it’s very rare to see a guy jerking himself off, though it’s my personal observation that women quite like to see that.

Sometimes, if a clip is boring, you get sidetracked into looking at the décor: what a hideous chair; where on earth did they get that carpet? There are a few kinks, though mostly not too extreme. Women pee for the camera, either in their knickers or sans. (I don’t think I’ve ever seen a clip of a man peeing; why is that? Would women like to see it, I wonder?) Footjobs, often delivered by rather domme-looking women in boots, are quite popular. You can see guys getting pegged. Anal intercourse (guy on girl) is common (again, it’s an easy thing for a man to film). Threesomes and moresomes are not unknown, and I have to say the girls always look to be having fun.

Surprising numbers of people show their faces. Maybe they don’t care if the world watches them sucking a cock or two, though that seems strange to me. Don’t they have jobs and families? Do they think their work colleagues or parents or children don’t watch these kinds of sites? They could be wrong about that. It’s truly international, with clips from Latin American, the Far East, eastern Europe and wherever, though plenty from Britain and the US, as you would expect. It’s interesting to try to work out a taxonomy of practices by nation. The French seem keen on gangbangs and alfresco sex. In Latvia and Poland they have a lot of sex in cars (I suspect there may be a socio-economic explanation for that; i.e. a lack of sufficient housing and thus of privacy). Latin women like to strip for the camera. Americans are really quite obsessed with blow-jobs and facials. The Brits are into cuckoldry, and are often out in the car park dogging, of which they seem to be the supreme practitioners.

One thing I note is that sartorially women usually make an effort. They are done up in short skirts or fancy underwear (ok, much of it the type favoured by men: stockings and suspenders, corsets, etc). Sometimes they strip off, with evident pleasure at displaying themselves. The men, on the other hand, are almost always dressed like slobs. They wear, if anything, jeans or those dreadful things that are too long for shorts and too short for trousers, and surprisingly often they wear their socks in bed. Is anything more likely to kill a woman’s passion than a man wearing nothing but a pair of grubby ankle-length socks? (PS. It’s not just some of the girls who are big; some of the guys look like if they lie down they might have trouble getting up again.)

What is a bit of a mystery to me is that there is so little d/s. Now and again you see a girl, or even a guy, getting a spanking. But it’s always very tentative; it lacks conviction. I don’t understand why this is so. Do the hosts of the site believe that showing out and out d/s acts, in which someone gets a real thrashing, will open them to legal proceedings? Or is it that there is no market for such things (I find that hard to believe)? Or is there another amateur site I’m unaware of that caters for my particular perversions?