naamah_darling: Close cropped image of a blonde ponytailed man with a woman pulling a black stocking tightly around his neck. (BDSM)
It finally happened. Someone on FetLife asking if I, who state three times in my profile that I am a dominant woman, would like to "experiment" with submitting to them, a dominant man.

For the record, I do not state anywhere that I am submissive, and I do not state anywhere that I am a switch. I have myself listed as "35, F, Dom."

I talk at length about what I would like in a subby boy playmate. . . . I am not seeing where the guy got this idea, unless it's because he's wanting to bring out my inner submissive nature with his true domly domliness.

Because . . . all women are inherently submissive by nature, I guess?

Sorry, dude. I do not even have to look to tell that you do not have the magical prizewinning golden-ticket twat-taming lordly dom-cock. You are clearly not smart enough to handle me as a friend, let alone a playmate, and you aren't respectful enough to walk a dog on a leash, let alone a human being. You're cute. Bye bye.

I feel like I've passed some sort of milestone. It's "Last Asshole Like This for 200 Miles", hopefully.

I'm surprised it's taken this long, frankly, but I'm almost never on FetLife; I really despise it, and only go there periodically to check my messages for such gems as this.

The painfully sad part is that his message is the first unsolicited message I have ever received on FetLife that had no grammar, spelling, or punctuation errors. He was articulate, and actually very polite barring the completely unacceptable assholery of making that assumption about me.

I am never, ever, ever going to find a puppy. It's never going to happen. Jesus.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
New article up at Adventurotica.com! I think you'll want to read this one. It's damn good.

On Being "Broken"

One of the things I hear occasionally from people who aren't well-versed in BDSM subculture – or people who are just jerks – is that those of us who enjoy hurting people or being hurt, dominating people or being dominated, serving or being served, must have something "wrong" with us. That we are "broken."

. . .

Here's the thing. When it comes to what people think of us, it doesn't matter why we are the way we are. . .

I'm not saying that the bad shit that has happened to us is not important as a part of personal identity; it is. They are part of us, and whether you think it's made you stronger, or just wish it never happened at all, they are important. But that's personal. If you want to explore your own motivations, that's awesome, but it should only matter to other people as much as you want it to, or as much as they care about you and want to understand and support you. It shouldn't be used to judge you.

It doesn't matter what "made" us this way. Maybe I am the way I am because I'm compensating for the powerlessness and weakness I often feel in everyday life. Maybe I would have been this way even if I didn't have that to deal with. Why should this have anything to do with whether or not people think my kinkiness is "acceptable?" Are there really such things as "legitimate" and "illegitimate" reasons for what forms of sexual expression we find meaningful? If this is how I cope with what's fucked up in my life, then where's the harm in that? I don't hurt people without their consent. That's a lot more than a lot of non-kinky and theoretically not broken people can say.

I deserve respect. We all do. Our lifestyle choices deserve respect. I'm not saying that everyone should address us as Master or Mistress or what-have-you, or that our kinks make us better than other people or mean we are more highly evolved or open-minded.

We deserve real respect as adults making our own decisions about our lives, and the validity of our identities should not be questioned or labeled as illegitimate or inferior because of someone else's assumptions about why we are that way.


We also have Chapter 13 of Sky Pirates of the Rio Grande!

Chapter 13: The dreaded return of the fate worse than death

Behind her, the crew doors opened and marines rushed in. They didn't even yell for her to stop, they just shouted in alarm and started shooting.

Zenobia let go, dove for the floor and grabbed her pistol. She hoped the cargo door would slam down, but it stayed right where it was. She was on her feet as bullets buzzed past her. She shot three times, one two three, hitting nothing at this distance, but it made them duck. Then she threw the gun down and ran.

Beyond the doors was a room that was just a big ramp, now cranked up and locked in place so it was like a wooden-planked dance floor more than anything else. All she cared about was the smaller hatch set to one side in the curved hull - a way out.

She ran for it and was almost there when another door clanged open and marines poured out like angry ants. Zenobia snarled and dodged the first bayonet that came at her, grabbed the rifle away, and ran the next man through with it. She kicked the body off her blade and leaped back, fired into the onrushing crowd and a man went down with a hole in his chest pouring out blood like a pump spigot.

More bayonets came at her and rifle fire smashed into the walls, singing off the iron hull and steel beams. She tried to fire again and just ejected the spent cartridge - damned single-shot guns! Zenobia attacked with her stolen rifle like a spear, parried thrusts and stabbed a man through the throat, smashed another one in the face with the stock. She had a moment and jumped for the hatch, battered it with her rifle and the weapon splintered apart even as the hatch came open and let in the whipping night wind.

There was nowhere to go. A wall of bayonets came at her and she screamed in defiance as she threw herself out into the bellowing darkness.

Fuck yes, it's awesome.





naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
New chapter! Sky Pirates of the Rio Grande Chapter 8: In the absence of a chaperone the immoral shall disport themselves!

We have the free chapters all set up right here at the Sky Pirates free section. We're getting things squared away, and now you don't have to log in to read the free stuff at that link. So go check it out and consider donating or spreading the word. You'll be funding independent smut!

We also have another free article, this one by Sargon, My kink is your doom! It's all about the tangled nest of sexual fantasy vs. real world ethics. Which, since I have some pretty damn unacceptable sexual fantasies, is a welcome topic for discussion.


See, it is one thing to hold beliefs on the equality of humankind, and another to argue with your own deepest lusts and desires. What does one do, after all, if one's fetishes or kinks clash with one's own deeply-held political beliefs? What if the unpersoning of another human being is not just abhorrent to you, but also really, really gets you hot? What do we say to the feminist who wants to be spanked and humiliated? The equality activist who cannot stop fapping over geisha-girl fantasies? The safe and consensual B&D fetishist who wants to be unsafe?

Beyond this, what do we do when our innermost sexual wants are not just personally distasteful, but indefensible by any measure? What do we say to the pedophile, the necrophiliac, the person excited by rape or other nonconsensual kinds of sex? Do we really have nothing to offer these people at all?

We really do not, and the message that comes through, loud and clear to people with sexual desires that are out of bounds is: stop it. Don't do it, don't talk about it, and don't even think about it. As any of us know, this is bullshit and accomplishes nothing. What we discover, time and time again, is that our deepest sexual urges cannot be wished or moralized or legislated away. We resist this notion, even as we agree that it is obvious, we wish it were not true. I think all of us, at one time or another, have desires we wish we could just get rid of, but the brain does not work like this.

It's good stuff. Drop by and comment! I intend to write about this from another angle later on, so I'd love to hear what you have to say.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Travis Tame)
I got the chance to try out a violet wand tonight! The gentleman who owns the unit was kind enough to demonstrate it for me, first on the arms and, when I decided that was awesome, elsewhere. I got to try a number of fun accessories; he was holding the body contact accessory, so he was conductive, and anywhere he touched me, there was a little spark. He used different implements to close the gap, all of which provided interesting variations on the basic sensation.

The snare drum brush was brilliant, the steel guitarist's finger-picks were awesome, and the metallic cloth laid over the body, with light touches brushed here and there was fucking amazing. The cloth conducted the charge, so it was constantly crawling away and closing the gap sometimes clear across my body from where he was touching. It felt like little static prickles, pins and needles. Smaller, single points of contact sometimes felt like sharp little jerks, almost like hooks stuck in my skin, only not particularly painful. The really sharp ones also had enough of a tactile pop that it was rather pleasurable anyway. It never reached the muscle, purely surface sensation.

Another small stun-gun type device I REALLY wanted to bring home with me felt like rhythmic pops or cat claws, and on the high setting felt almost exactly like a tattoo fill needle, sharp and raking, only, again, without much pain.

Overall, some slight sticking/stinging sensations, but mostly just snaps and pops and tingles. Really, really cool. Pain is not usually arousing to me, it's just pain, and I find certain varieties of it interesting but on the whole not particularly sexy. This may have to join open-handed spanking as "pain that gets me hot." Wasn't expecting that, not complaining. Now I have phantom pins and needles on my hands and arms and other more interesting places.

I had thought I would enjoy electrical play, from everything I've read and heard. Turns out I was right, at least as far as the violet wand is concerned. I can see why some people Do Not Want, but I thought it was really cool, and am looking forward to trying it with a little more punch next time.

Now I need to try a TENS unit, which ought to offer a somewhat different sort of feeling. All kinds of fun to be had there!

The awesome part is that I am going to get back to work on Vengeance and Valor sometime here, and pretty shortly Valor is going to invent a dermal regrowth electrostimulation array meant to help close small wounds and which will, of course, be misappropriated by Captain Savage to bring him pain. Now I'm one step closer to being able to write about that accurately. Also on the list: single-tail whip, signal/snake whip, quirt, tawse, and a wider variety of straps and canes, among other things too sordid and personal to list here because they qualify as actual sex acts, which none of the rest of this (to me) really does.

This is all stuff I want to try/do because I'm curious about it (and I confess, I don't always understand people who are not curious about this sort of thing, at least some), but if it weren't for the fact that I'm writing kink for y'all, I probably wouldn't get off my ass and actually try it because, hello, new people and leaving the house and learning curve and arrrgh. It's always annoyed me that a lot of kinky erotica reflects a certain amount of ignorance on the part of the writer, and while I'm sure I'm guilty of that as well I am trying all the time to reduce the margin of Fail. I want to write stuff that kinky people can enjoy, because they are reading it and saying "Yes, that's exactly what that feels like."

Some people devote their lives to eradicating disease or caring for the poor. I hurt myself for porn. It's a dirty horse, but someone's gotta ride it.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Travis Tame)
I got the chance to try out a violet wand tonight! The gentleman who owns the unit was kind enough to demonstrate it for me, first on the arms and, when I decided that was awesome, elsewhere. I got to try a number of fun accessories; he was holding the body contact accessory, so he was conductive, and anywhere he touched me, there was a little spark. He used different implements to close the gap, all of which provided interesting variations on the basic sensation.

The snare drum brush was brilliant, the steel guitarist's finger-picks were awesome, and the metallic cloth laid over the body, with light touches brushed here and there was fucking amazing. The cloth conducted the charge, so it was constantly crawling away and closing the gap sometimes clear across my body from where he was touching. It felt like little static prickles, pins and needles. Smaller, single points of contact sometimes felt like sharp little jerks, almost like hooks stuck in my skin, only not particularly painful. The really sharp ones also had enough of a tactile pop that it was rather pleasurable anyway. It never reached the muscle, purely surface sensation.

Another small stun-gun type device I REALLY wanted to bring home with me felt like rhythmic pops or cat claws, and on the high setting felt almost exactly like a tattoo fill needle, sharp and raking, only, again, without much pain.

Overall, some slight sticking/stinging sensations, but mostly just snaps and pops and tingles. Really, really cool. Pain is not usually arousing to me, it's just pain, and I find certain varieties of it interesting but on the whole not particularly sexy. This may have to join open-handed spanking as "pain that gets me hot." Wasn't expecting that, not complaining. Now I have phantom pins and needles on my hands and arms and other more interesting places.

I had thought I would enjoy electrical play, from everything I've read and heard. Turns out I was right, at least as far as the violet wand is concerned. I can see why some people Do Not Want, but I thought it was really cool, and am looking forward to trying it with a little more punch next time.

Now I need to try a TENS unit, which ought to offer a somewhat different sort of feeling. All kinds of fun to be had there!

The awesome part is that I am going to get back to work on Vengeance and Valor sometime here, and pretty shortly Valor is going to invent a dermal regrowth electrostimulation array meant to help close small wounds and which will, of course, be misappropriated by Captain Savage to bring him pain. Now I'm one step closer to being able to write about that accurately. Also on the list: single-tail whip, signal/snake whip, quirt, tawse, and a wider variety of straps and canes, among other things too sordid and personal to list here because they qualify as actual sex acts, which none of the rest of this (to me) really does.

This is all stuff I want to try/do because I'm curious about it (and I confess, I don't always understand people who are not curious about this sort of thing, at least some), but if it weren't for the fact that I'm writing kink for y'all, I probably wouldn't get off my ass and actually try it because, hello, new people and leaving the house and learning curve and arrrgh. It's always annoyed me that a lot of kinky erotica reflects a certain amount of ignorance on the part of the writer, and while I'm sure I'm guilty of that as well I am trying all the time to reduce the margin of Fail. I want to write stuff that kinky people can enjoy, because they are reading it and saying "Yes, that's exactly what that feels like."

Some people devote their lives to eradicating disease or caring for the poor. I hurt myself for porn. It's a dirty horse, but someone's gotta ride it.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Travis Tame)
I posted this over at FetLife, which explains why I am saying a bunch of shit that youall already know, but I am posting it here, too, because I think it's worth keeping around.

***

I'm introverted.

That's a polite way of saying that me and groups of people? We don't mix.

I'm a baby dom, well-aware of my tendencies and experienced in fantasy, but, in reality, with precisely *one* me-dominant encounter. I'm much more experienced at bottoming because, frankly, it's easier for me to find a man to beat my ass than it is for me to find a boy to spank, and I take opportunities to experience new things when they arise. I firmly believe that I should have experienced everything I am going to ask a partner to do -- at least, as nearly as I can come to it, given differing anatomy.

How does all this relate back to being an introvert?

It's what's kept me from seeking out the local club scene for over a decade, and it's what keeps me home most nights, writing and watching movies and playing homebrew tabletop RPG games with my husband.

And it's why I have a hard time meeting people to play with.

I'm shy. Around most people, I'm fine. A lot of folks have remarked that I don't seem introverted at all, because when I go out, I make an effort to be sociable, and I'm an interesting, fun, easygoing person to talk to. Most people in particular don't intimidate me, but dealing with groups of people tends to drain my ability to CWS (Cope With Shit). The more energized the group, the faster I run dry.

I don't get scared of big guys with scary floggers. I understand those guys, and I know how to negotiate with them for what I want. I like to receive pain from time to time, I find it clarifying, sometimes even relaxing, but it isn't a sexual thing for me, so I don't have that tension ratcheting up, making me feel like I'm about to pass out or throw up or run away. Same with giving pain to other women. It's enjoyable, but for me it's not sexual.

Point me at a pretty boy who is willing to let me Do Things to him, and suddenly I'm all stutters and butterflies. I have no idea how to talk to someone I am actually *interested* in. It's absurd. Because that *is* a sexual thing to me. Very much so. And with actual *interest* comes fear of rejection, and with fear of rejection comes an inability to ask for anything at all.

It's stupid and annoying and I hate it.

Now, a lot of this has a basis in my brain chemistry. I am bipolar. I have issues with dopamine levels and probably serotonin levels as well. This means that excitement often doesn't feel pleasurable to me, it just makes me feel sick. I am also convinced it plays a role in why I find pain so enjoyable; it triggers the hormone rush that pleasure *doesn't.* Why I am apparently wired to be dominant is a mystery to me, because this would be a much greater asset to someone submissive. (No, darlings, enjoying pain does not make one submissive. That's a whole different game.)

All of this is to say that I often seem flighty, or seem to have wildly varying needs for personal space, or why I occasionally freeze up and don't know what to say or do. I am so used to having to push through the shyness that I reflexively agree to things I probably shouldn't, and I have done things I regret more than once because of this. I take more care now, I take things as fast or as slow as I feel comfortable. Sometimes this means backing off and re-setting boundaries. Sometimes it means I'm not okay with something I was okay with ten minutes before. Usually it means I am very wary and slow to trust.

It sometimes makes me feel ridiculous. I'm supposed to be this sexy, pain-dispensing, fearless beast. And I am. On the inside. It just takes some time to get that beast to show itself.

It's a continuing effort, balancing my genuine need for more of this kind of contact with my deep yearning to stay at home -- and not bring anyone back here, because this is my safe place/hidey-hole/wolf den, and (call me crazy) I'm kind of wary of who gets to know how to find where I sleep. I do best on the internet, where I feel safest. I don't do phones at all, period, which doesn't help at all.

I keep hoping I'll run across someone pretty, young, patient, polite, well-spoken, and experienced, who is willing to tell me he's interested and then let me take my time sneaking up on him. Which is a little like asking to win the lottery, or for the moon on a silver platter, I know. But I can dream.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Travis Tame)
I posted this over at FetLife, which explains why I am saying a bunch of shit that youall already know, but I am posting it here, too, because I think it's worth keeping around.

***

I'm introverted.

That's a polite way of saying that me and groups of people? We don't mix.

I'm a baby dom, well-aware of my tendencies and experienced in fantasy, but, in reality, with precisely *one* me-dominant encounter. I'm much more experienced at bottoming because, frankly, it's easier for me to find a man to beat my ass than it is for me to find a boy to spank, and I take opportunities to experience new things when they arise. I firmly believe that I should have experienced everything I am going to ask a partner to do -- at least, as nearly as I can come to it, given differing anatomy.

How does all this relate back to being an introvert?

It's what's kept me from seeking out the local club scene for over a decade, and it's what keeps me home most nights, writing and watching movies and playing homebrew tabletop RPG games with my husband.

And it's why I have a hard time meeting people to play with.

I'm shy. Around most people, I'm fine. A lot of folks have remarked that I don't seem introverted at all, because when I go out, I make an effort to be sociable, and I'm an interesting, fun, easygoing person to talk to. Most people in particular don't intimidate me, but dealing with groups of people tends to drain my ability to CWS (Cope With Shit). The more energized the group, the faster I run dry.

I don't get scared of big guys with scary floggers. I understand those guys, and I know how to negotiate with them for what I want. I like to receive pain from time to time, I find it clarifying, sometimes even relaxing, but it isn't a sexual thing for me, so I don't have that tension ratcheting up, making me feel like I'm about to pass out or throw up or run away. Same with giving pain to other women. It's enjoyable, but for me it's not sexual.

Point me at a pretty boy who is willing to let me Do Things to him, and suddenly I'm all stutters and butterflies. I have no idea how to talk to someone I am actually *interested* in. It's absurd. Because that *is* a sexual thing to me. Very much so. And with actual *interest* comes fear of rejection, and with fear of rejection comes an inability to ask for anything at all.

It's stupid and annoying and I hate it.

Now, a lot of this has a basis in my brain chemistry. I am bipolar. I have issues with dopamine levels and probably serotonin levels as well. This means that excitement often doesn't feel pleasurable to me, it just makes me feel sick. I am also convinced it plays a role in why I find pain so enjoyable; it triggers the hormone rush that pleasure *doesn't.* Why I am apparently wired to be dominant is a mystery to me, because this would be a much greater asset to someone submissive. (No, darlings, enjoying pain does not make one submissive. That's a whole different game.)

All of this is to say that I often seem flighty, or seem to have wildly varying needs for personal space, or why I occasionally freeze up and don't know what to say or do. I am so used to having to push through the shyness that I reflexively agree to things I probably shouldn't, and I have done things I regret more than once because of this. I take more care now, I take things as fast or as slow as I feel comfortable. Sometimes this means backing off and re-setting boundaries. Sometimes it means I'm not okay with something I was okay with ten minutes before. Usually it means I am very wary and slow to trust.

It sometimes makes me feel ridiculous. I'm supposed to be this sexy, pain-dispensing, fearless beast. And I am. On the inside. It just takes some time to get that beast to show itself.

It's a continuing effort, balancing my genuine need for more of this kind of contact with my deep yearning to stay at home -- and not bring anyone back here, because this is my safe place/hidey-hole/wolf den, and (call me crazy) I'm kind of wary of who gets to know how to find where I sleep. I do best on the internet, where I feel safest. I don't do phones at all, period, which doesn't help at all.

I keep hoping I'll run across someone pretty, young, patient, polite, well-spoken, and experienced, who is willing to tell me he's interested and then let me take my time sneaking up on him. Which is a little like asking to win the lottery, or for the moon on a silver platter, I know. But I can dream.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Travis Tame)
Y'all were so, so helpful when I was asking about the tawse vs. the strap. Seriously, that was awesome. Also, hot.

So, any of you fine kinky people feel like sharing observations about the shorter "martinet" type flogger vs. a longer more traditional flogger? Specifically, from the receiving end.

I've heard that it stings like a bastard, that the tips strike irregularly, leaving the subject to feel each one much more keenly, and that they can wrap around the hip something terrible. I've heard the pain is more unpredictable, and thus is often harder to process/cope with.

Observations? Or directions to firsthand accounts?

Also, observations about how it feels when applied before or after a regular open-handed spanking or a strapping with a leather strap or tawse. Obviously the sensations are very, very different, but sometimes one thing before another can be bliss itself, but when applied afterward, it's not nice at all.

Grr. Once again, my toybox is too small. I think I have a pretty good idea of what it would feel like based on experience with certain floggers, but hearing from people who have done it always reveals something wonderful and useful.

You can leave comments here or, if you'd prefer, email me at naamah at gmail.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Travis Tame)
Y'all were so, so helpful when I was asking about the tawse vs. the strap. Seriously, that was awesome. Also, hot.

So, any of you fine kinky people feel like sharing observations about the shorter "martinet" type flogger vs. a longer more traditional flogger? Specifically, from the receiving end.

I've heard that it stings like a bastard, that the tips strike irregularly, leaving the subject to feel each one much more keenly, and that they can wrap around the hip something terrible. I've heard the pain is more unpredictable, and thus is often harder to process/cope with.

Observations? Or directions to firsthand accounts?

Also, observations about how it feels when applied before or after a regular open-handed spanking or a strapping with a leather strap or tawse. Obviously the sensations are very, very different, but sometimes one thing before another can be bliss itself, but when applied afterward, it's not nice at all.

Grr. Once again, my toybox is too small. I think I have a pretty good idea of what it would feel like based on experience with certain floggers, but hearing from people who have done it always reveals something wonderful and useful.

You can leave comments here or, if you'd prefer, email me at naamah at gmail.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Travis Tame)
Would any of you lovely, kinky folks be so kind as to talk to me briefly about the sensations produced by various strap-like implements? I'm writing a scene with both of these things as optional accessories.

For reference, I am very familiar with the end of a well-worn belt, about 1.5" wide and choked up to about 18" of free-swinging length.

I am wondering about tawses and shorter straps, the quality ones made of multiple layers of stitched and burnished leather.

What do the straps feel like, compared to a single-thickness belt?

How does the sensation a split-tongued tawse produces differ from those produced by a single-width strap of similar length? Do you feel pinching between the tails of the tawse? Given equal force and stroke length, which is more painful? Do the marks show the individual tails with paler welting in between (this is what I seem to recall reading)? Would a devil's tail style tawse like the second depicted below actually be more painful? And would it leave distinctly diamond-shaped marks?

Tawse 1, Scottish two-tailed. 21" x 1.5", tails 8.5" Source. Tawse 2, "devil's tail" design. 18.5" Source.

Strap 1. 16" x 1.5" Source Strap 2. 17" x 1.5" Source. I want one of the latter very badly, incidentally.

Any input you have, really, would be wonderful to have.

I plan on researching this in person if I can find anyone with the right toys, but that might be a little while, and the scene is happening presently.

Go for it in comments, or you may email me if you wish the discussion to remain private (naamah at gmail). Really appreciate it, youall. You always help me make my character's life such a delightful hell.

(Obviously got over the block from last night and regained interest. I just needed to sweeten the deal by making him go pick out what gets used on him. Fun times.)
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Travis Tame)
Would any of you lovely, kinky folks be so kind as to talk to me briefly about the sensations produced by various strap-like implements? I'm writing a scene with both of these things as optional accessories.

For reference, I am very familiar with the end of a well-worn belt, about 1.5" wide and choked up to about 18" of free-swinging length.

I am wondering about tawses and shorter straps, the quality ones made of multiple layers of stitched and burnished leather.

What do the straps feel like, compared to a single-thickness belt?

How does the sensation a split-tongued tawse produces differ from those produced by a single-width strap of similar length? Do you feel pinching between the tails of the tawse? Given equal force and stroke length, which is more painful? Do the marks show the individual tails with paler welting in between (this is what I seem to recall reading)? Would a devil's tail style tawse like the second depicted below actually be more painful? And would it leave distinctly diamond-shaped marks?

Tawse 1, Scottish two-tailed. 21" x 1.5", tails 8.5" Source. Tawse 2, "devil's tail" design. 18.5" Source.

Strap 1. 16" x 1.5" Source Strap 2. 17" x 1.5" Source. I want one of the latter very badly, incidentally.

Any input you have, really, would be wonderful to have.

I plan on researching this in person if I can find anyone with the right toys, but that might be a little while, and the scene is happening presently.

Go for it in comments, or you may email me if you wish the discussion to remain private (naamah at gmail). Really appreciate it, youall. You always help me make my character's life such a delightful hell.

(Obviously got over the block from last night and regained interest. I just needed to sweeten the deal by making him go pick out what gets used on him. Fun times.)
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Alpha Female)
Thought about f-locking this, don't see the point.

In what may be a recurring engagement, I attended a BDSM play party on Saturday. Never been to one before, was exceedingly nervous, but wanted to go in support of a friend and also to satisfy my own curiosity as well as hopefully make some useful connections. I figured I'd mostly just observe quietly and not really get involved. Yeah. About that. One of the more interesting features of Naamah is that she does not have a halfway setting.

I'm not submissive (this was brought home to me even more strongly on Saturday). However, it's been a long-term goal of mine to acquire a BDSM sensation library. The purpose is twofold: 1) I want to know what things feel like so that I can write about them accurately and 2) I feel a moral obligation to experience anything that I am going to ask someone else to endure. Because I enjoy certain kinds of pain, this turned out to be a pleasurable endeavor on its own.

So now, in addition to spanking and strapping experience, I have experience with a variety of floggers and paddles and a couple of different canes. All in one night. Because I evidently have an iron ass.

Cut for length. )

Interesting thing:

I felt no fear. Not once. Not of any person. Not of the group. Not of stripping naked in front of strangers. Not of stripping naked in front of two (HOT) people I knew. Not of being watched by people I did not know. Not of any implement that was used on me or shown to me. Not of any pain I received, not of the last stroke which still hurt nor the next one I knew was coming. From the moment I walked in, I felt completely in control. For someone with anxiety issues that regularly keep me from leaving the house on bad days, this was an absolutely extraordinary thing. For someone with agonizing body issues, the fact that I did not hesitate to let it all hang out is even more extraordinary.

Unexpected side effect, and unexpectedly the best thing about the night:

Since Saturday, I have not felt bad about my body. The internal hate beast has grunted a couple times, and both times I crushed it flat. What the fuck does it know? Nothing. Fuck you, hate beast.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Alpha Female)
Thought about f-locking this, don't see the point.

In what may be a recurring engagement, I attended a BDSM play party on Saturday. Never been to one before, was exceedingly nervous, but wanted to go in support of a friend and also to satisfy my own curiosity as well as hopefully make some useful connections. I figured I'd mostly just observe quietly and not really get involved. Yeah. About that. One of the more interesting features of Naamah is that she does not have a halfway setting.

I'm not submissive (this was brought home to me even more strongly on Saturday). However, it's been a long-term goal of mine to acquire a BDSM sensation library. The purpose is twofold: 1) I want to know what things feel like so that I can write about them accurately and 2) I feel a moral obligation to experience anything that I am going to ask someone else to endure. Because I enjoy certain kinds of pain, this turned out to be a pleasurable endeavor on its own.

So now, in addition to spanking and strapping experience, I have experience with a variety of floggers and paddles and a couple of different canes. All in one night. Because I evidently have an iron ass.

Cut for length. )

Interesting thing:

I felt no fear. Not once. Not of any person. Not of the group. Not of stripping naked in front of strangers. Not of stripping naked in front of two (HOT) people I knew. Not of being watched by people I did not know. Not of any implement that was used on me or shown to me. Not of any pain I received, not of the last stroke which still hurt nor the next one I knew was coming. From the moment I walked in, I felt completely in control. For someone with anxiety issues that regularly keep me from leaving the house on bad days, this was an absolutely extraordinary thing. For someone with agonizing body issues, the fact that I did not hesitate to let it all hang out is even more extraordinary.

Unexpected side effect, and unexpectedly the best thing about the night:

Since Saturday, I have not felt bad about my body. The internal hate beast has grunted a couple times, and both times I crushed it flat. What the fuck does it know? Nothing. Fuck you, hate beast.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Travis Tame)
Awesome feminist kink blogger Bitchy Jones has decided to quit blogging. I feel very strongly about this, though I wish to stress that I don't feel betrayed or feel that she is making a bad decision. I just feel sad. Because she has been one of the few people out there saying this shit, making the right kind of noise, calling my kink out on all its revolting sexism.

I don't agree with her about absolutely everything, but she gets the important stuff right, all of it. I only started reading her about a year ago, but when I started I jumped in with both feet and read her entire blog. It triggered a number of revelations, and one big watershed moment for me.

This sounds so cheesy, but moments like that, when someone's words ring so true, when they explain and articulate something that you had only begun to grasp at, when they flip the switch and a little light bulb goes off in your head and illuminates something wonderful and new, those are rare and special and feel an awful lot like getting a little piece of yourself back. Those little pieces are incredibly precious in a culture that grinds women like me down and tells us that we are doing it wrong, that we aren't good enough to be what we are, that our desire isn't something that we are allowed to define for ourselves.

Her blog will remain up, everything she has written will still be there, but there won't be more, and I am saddened by that. While I hope she'll get back to it someday, I won't expect it.

I've thought hard about what to say here, and came up empty. Then I remembered that only a little more than a year ago, I wrote her a fumbling, clumsy, only half-articulate letter of gratitude.

Here it is, because I can think of nothing to say to her, no thank you or accolade, that I did not say here.

Hi, Bitchy.

I just wanted to say thank you.

Reading your blog has helped me to crystallize some things that were really bothering me about how my kink is perceived by others, how it's stripped away from dominant women and only marketed through the eyes of men.

You've helped me start to come to grips with some parts of what I am that had been bothering me. I don't do shame or guilt, I've never felt particularly bad about my fantasies, nor have I suffered much guilt -- though I do apparently get very . . . droppy -- when I have acted on them, on the few occasions I've been able to manage that. Because of how it's twisted around I was starting to feel awfully alone, starting to feel like I didn't have a place at the table. But there's you, so I know I'm not alone, and, like rats, if there are two, there are a hundred or a thousand more. So we're not alone.

You've helped me reconcile my feminism with my dominant streak by showing me the cracks in my own facade, the places where things had rubbed thin, a few places where I had no understanding of myself. Yes, I thank you for that. It wasn't really . . . easy, but it's been valuable, even when I thought I disagreed. I learned a long time ago that when I think I disagree with a certain kind of person but can't explain why, I need to shut the fuck up and keep listening, because it probably means I'm going to feel differently very soon. (That or the words will come to me.) Turns out you were right, and I was still trying to figure out which foot the shoe went on.

You don't know me. I've commented a very small handful of times. Because you asked on your contact info page, I found you a while back when you guest blogged on . . . whatever site that was, I can't remember because I've had a crap week. One of the larger feminist sites that I read from time to time. I really, really liked the things you had to say. I appreciated it a lot. I bookmarked you and have read everything you've written since, and have been going back and following random links here and there. Don't know how much total I've read. Maybe a third? A quarter? I got involved with moving in the middle there, and didn't have time to read.

At any rate, I'm grateful. Thank you. Please don't stop doing what you are doing. I think it has immense value, and if people aren't seeing that yet, it's because you're the coming thing, the first of many. Nobody knows what to make of women like that. Never have. It's good to hear another voice saying the things I think and feel that are so often passed over or ignored or actively condemned. I run my own journal elsewhere, and I know how much work it is, how hard it can be, and how . . . how weird. Also, how much people fucking hate it when women tell inconvenient truths. About almost anything. You have my respect for dealing with that crap.

I'm trying to find a kink club around here, any sort of organization where I can go for company, to learn, to answer my questions about technique, safety, and so on, and . . . Jesus, what a nightmare. What a fucking nightmare. I have no problem with dominants, I have no problem with submissives, I have no problem with people of any gender. I have a problem with congenital assholes and utter morons; also with sexist dipshits. The local infestation appears to be quite severe. It's very sad and depressing all around, since I was . . . I was raised with very strong underdog solidarity, and it's always disappointing to me when a subculture or group that appeals to me turns on itself or on outsiders who don't quite match.

Your blog is a nice reminder that I am not the one with the fucking problem.

-- Naamah


I did ask "Please don't stop doing what you are doing." But I know better than most how hard this shit is, I have lost the heart for it myself over the past two years, and so I won't ask that this time. I will just thank her for doing what she has done.

Thanks, Bitchy. You're amazing.

Much love,

-- The Leg-Biting Bitch
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Travis Tame)
Awesome feminist kink blogger Bitchy Jones has decided to quit blogging. I feel very strongly about this, though I wish to stress that I don't feel betrayed or feel that she is making a bad decision. I just feel sad. Because she has been one of the few people out there saying this shit, making the right kind of noise, calling my kink out on all its revolting sexism.

I don't agree with her about absolutely everything, but she gets the important stuff right, all of it. I only started reading her about a year ago, but when I started I jumped in with both feet and read her entire blog. It triggered a number of revelations, and one big watershed moment for me.

This sounds so cheesy, but moments like that, when someone's words ring so true, when they explain and articulate something that you had only begun to grasp at, when they flip the switch and a little light bulb goes off in your head and illuminates something wonderful and new, those are rare and special and feel an awful lot like getting a little piece of yourself back. Those little pieces are incredibly precious in a culture that grinds women like me down and tells us that we are doing it wrong, that we aren't good enough to be what we are, that our desire isn't something that we are allowed to define for ourselves.

Her blog will remain up, everything she has written will still be there, but there won't be more, and I am saddened by that. While I hope she'll get back to it someday, I won't expect it.

I've thought hard about what to say here, and came up empty. Then I remembered that only a little more than a year ago, I wrote her a fumbling, clumsy, only half-articulate letter of gratitude.

Here it is, because I can think of nothing to say to her, no thank you or accolade, that I did not say here.

Hi, Bitchy.

I just wanted to say thank you.

Reading your blog has helped me to crystallize some things that were really bothering me about how my kink is perceived by others, how it's stripped away from dominant women and only marketed through the eyes of men.

You've helped me start to come to grips with some parts of what I am that had been bothering me. I don't do shame or guilt, I've never felt particularly bad about my fantasies, nor have I suffered much guilt -- though I do apparently get very . . . droppy -- when I have acted on them, on the few occasions I've been able to manage that. Because of how it's twisted around I was starting to feel awfully alone, starting to feel like I didn't have a place at the table. But there's you, so I know I'm not alone, and, like rats, if there are two, there are a hundred or a thousand more. So we're not alone.

You've helped me reconcile my feminism with my dominant streak by showing me the cracks in my own facade, the places where things had rubbed thin, a few places where I had no understanding of myself. Yes, I thank you for that. It wasn't really . . . easy, but it's been valuable, even when I thought I disagreed. I learned a long time ago that when I think I disagree with a certain kind of person but can't explain why, I need to shut the fuck up and keep listening, because it probably means I'm going to feel differently very soon. (That or the words will come to me.) Turns out you were right, and I was still trying to figure out which foot the shoe went on.

You don't know me. I've commented a very small handful of times. Because you asked on your contact info page, I found you a while back when you guest blogged on . . . whatever site that was, I can't remember because I've had a crap week. One of the larger feminist sites that I read from time to time. I really, really liked the things you had to say. I appreciated it a lot. I bookmarked you and have read everything you've written since, and have been going back and following random links here and there. Don't know how much total I've read. Maybe a third? A quarter? I got involved with moving in the middle there, and didn't have time to read.

At any rate, I'm grateful. Thank you. Please don't stop doing what you are doing. I think it has immense value, and if people aren't seeing that yet, it's because you're the coming thing, the first of many. Nobody knows what to make of women like that. Never have. It's good to hear another voice saying the things I think and feel that are so often passed over or ignored or actively condemned. I run my own journal elsewhere, and I know how much work it is, how hard it can be, and how . . . how weird. Also, how much people fucking hate it when women tell inconvenient truths. About almost anything. You have my respect for dealing with that crap.

I'm trying to find a kink club around here, any sort of organization where I can go for company, to learn, to answer my questions about technique, safety, and so on, and . . . Jesus, what a nightmare. What a fucking nightmare. I have no problem with dominants, I have no problem with submissives, I have no problem with people of any gender. I have a problem with congenital assholes and utter morons; also with sexist dipshits. The local infestation appears to be quite severe. It's very sad and depressing all around, since I was . . . I was raised with very strong underdog solidarity, and it's always disappointing to me when a subculture or group that appeals to me turns on itself or on outsiders who don't quite match.

Your blog is a nice reminder that I am not the one with the fucking problem.

-- Naamah


I did ask "Please don't stop doing what you are doing." But I know better than most how hard this shit is, I have lost the heart for it myself over the past two years, and so I won't ask that this time. I will just thank her for doing what she has done.

Thanks, Bitchy. You're amazing.

Much love,

-- The Leg-Biting Bitch
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Travis Tame)
FetLife is holding a contest. Free to join, free to enter, and the prizes are fucking amazing. Canes, floggers, TENS units, play piercing kits, art prints, cuffs and manacles, and a whole lot more. There's even some plus-size corsetry in there.

This link goes to the entry page. You can sign up for FetLife through this link right here.

Yes, I get an extra entry for spreading the word like this. It's worth it, and there's some stuff on there I think a lot of you would really enjoy.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Travis Tame)
FetLife is holding a contest. Free to join, free to enter, and the prizes are fucking amazing. Canes, floggers, TENS units, play piercing kits, art prints, cuffs and manacles, and a whole lot more. There's even some plus-size corsetry in there.

This link goes to the entry page. You can sign up for FetLife through this link right here.

Yes, I get an extra entry for spreading the word like this. It's worth it, and there's some stuff on there I think a lot of you would really enjoy.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Alpha Female)
Re: misogyny being a problem in kink.

"I firmly and strongly believe that it is a woman’s role to be submissive to a man. I believe that submission in men is taught at conception because as soon as women realize that they’re pregnant, they start planning that child’s fucking future and quite often that the mother is definitely the beginning of the emasculation. That said, I think that women in the past couple of hundred years have gotten entirely too high on their own power and eventually need to be slapped in the fucking head and put in their place."

This was part of a kink podcast posted a week ago. I don't see much point in linking to it so you can go over there to tell that person he's full of shit. I'm just offering it as evidence that there's a real problem within the kink "community" with misogyny, and that hits dominant women hard because we're the ones perceived as going against the flow -- and that's without discussing the harm it does to people who do not fit into a gender binary. Loudmouthed assholes like this one are quite common.

As I have stated before, that is what has kept me from looking to make contacts in the local scene so that I can just learn some of the basic shit I need to know to even write kink convincingly. This is what has me thinking about trying to convince some of my respectful and experienced kinky friends to come down here or put me up for a day or two so they can help me try some things that I really want to try without having to deal with this shit.

I said before, I think, that I have an objection to doing anything to someone that I have not had done to me. I think that's fair, and I wouldn't want to hurt someone consensually without knowing exactly what that pain was going to be like. True, pain thresholds vary, and everyone's different in terms of what hurts their body the most, but I don't think that establishing a library of baseline experiences to compare things to is a bad idea.

Can you see how, in an atmosphere thick with bullshit like the above, I would be really reluctant to ask for that experience, because of how easily such a desire could be misinterpreted when voiced in such an environment?

"Just wade in and make the changes you want to see!" people say. And if I were less introverted and more into conflict instead of just pain, I would. But the truth is that it's not my job to fight tooth and nail for the respect I should have without asking for it. It's their responsibility not to be fucking dicks. It's their responsibility to keep up with last century and get it through their skulls that women aren't animals, and that any woman who can speak, reason, and wield a riding crop is not just a collie in polyvinyl who has learned a really neat parlor trick.

It's appalling how many people use their sexual proclivities as a shelter for their neolithic social views. I am not ashamed of what I am or what turns me on, but I do regret that my peccadillos connect me in any way with such barbaric bullshit.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Alpha Female)
Re: misogyny being a problem in kink.

"I firmly and strongly believe that it is a woman’s role to be submissive to a man. I believe that submission in men is taught at conception because as soon as women realize that they’re pregnant, they start planning that child’s fucking future and quite often that the mother is definitely the beginning of the emasculation. That said, I think that women in the past couple of hundred years have gotten entirely too high on their own power and eventually need to be slapped in the fucking head and put in their place."

This was part of a kink podcast posted a week ago. I don't see much point in linking to it so you can go over there to tell that person he's full of shit. I'm just offering it as evidence that there's a real problem within the kink "community" with misogyny, and that hits dominant women hard because we're the ones perceived as going against the flow -- and that's without discussing the harm it does to people who do not fit into a gender binary. Loudmouthed assholes like this one are quite common.

As I have stated before, that is what has kept me from looking to make contacts in the local scene so that I can just learn some of the basic shit I need to know to even write kink convincingly. This is what has me thinking about trying to convince some of my respectful and experienced kinky friends to come down here or put me up for a day or two so they can help me try some things that I really want to try without having to deal with this shit.

I said before, I think, that I have an objection to doing anything to someone that I have not had done to me. I think that's fair, and I wouldn't want to hurt someone consensually without knowing exactly what that pain was going to be like. True, pain thresholds vary, and everyone's different in terms of what hurts their body the most, but I don't think that establishing a library of baseline experiences to compare things to is a bad idea.

Can you see how, in an atmosphere thick with bullshit like the above, I would be really reluctant to ask for that experience, because of how easily such a desire could be misinterpreted when voiced in such an environment?

"Just wade in and make the changes you want to see!" people say. And if I were less introverted and more into conflict instead of just pain, I would. But the truth is that it's not my job to fight tooth and nail for the respect I should have without asking for it. It's their responsibility not to be fucking dicks. It's their responsibility to keep up with last century and get it through their skulls that women aren't animals, and that any woman who can speak, reason, and wield a riding crop is not just a collie in polyvinyl who has learned a really neat parlor trick.

It's appalling how many people use their sexual proclivities as a shelter for their neolithic social views. I am not ashamed of what I am or what turns me on, but I do regret that my peccadillos connect me in any way with such barbaric bullshit.

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