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: Picture of a treasure chest with a skull and crossbones on top. My art! (Artistic)
On this day, the 23rd of July, 2012, I have accomplished something great:

I have made a functioning strap-on harness for a My Little Pony.

You're welcome.
naamah_darling: Close cropped image of a blonde ponytailed man with a woman pulling a black stocking tightly around his neck. (BDSM)
Awesome:

Perverted sex dream about playing with a giant horse-cock shaped sex toy.*

Awkward:

Whole thing takes place on your mom's bed.

Alarming:

Your mom has been dead for a number of years.

At least:

She wasn't still IN the bed.

. . .

Not cool, subconscious. Not cool.

* Shut up. Don't you judge. It's not like I actually HAVE one.

Fuckers are expensive.
naamah_darling: Close cropped image of a blonde ponytailed man with a woman pulling a black stocking tightly around his neck. (BDSM)
I have been interviewed by the lovely Dishevelled Domina, also of Tumblr fame. (The interview link is work safe, the Tumblr link is really, really, really NSFW.)

We talked about a lot of fun things, including tabletop RPGs and '80s cartoons, as well as more thinky stuff like feminism and kink and marriage and so on. I talk a little about my own history and how I became aware that I am a big ol' pervert, which I haven't actually done all that much of, especially recently, so that was interesting. And there's a picture of me in a pirate hat.

So please, stop by and read and comment! I'll be checking in and answering questions. (Although I am almost always up for fielding questions either here or on my Tumblr, JSYK.)

Have an excerpt! My two favorite questions:

How did you discover your power exchange preference?

It just kind of . . . blossomed. I’ve had sadistic/masochistic fantasies ever since I was five or six. Once I became aware of BDSM subculture, somewhere around the age of twelve, I was intrigued by it. By the awesome clothes, by the glamorous people, by the strong presence of female sexuality, by the way it was forbidden.

Of course, I grew up and discovered that BDSM culture is far from perfect. And, sadly, as I explored the idea, I became aware that the female sexuality showcased in most BDSM photography and porn/erotica had little to do with my personal desires and values. But the core of that appeal remained. Pain, lust, beauty . . . I have always found the idea of a beautiful man suffering intensely erotic.

Flashback to the ’80s: I remember there was this one episode of Thundercats that had my favorite character, Tygra, getting strapped into this torture/execution machine called The Four Winds, which was basically designed to rip a person’s arms and legs off. It wasn’t the drawing and quartering I found sexy – I thought that was creepy and gross – it was that Tygra was chained in it, waiting, for hours. The anticipation was lovely. The peril. And the being chained up spread-eagle.

I only saw the episode once, but I had all kinds of fantasies about it; someone whipping him, someone cutting his clothes off, someone hurting him with pointy things, performing painful and humiliating experiments on him. I acted these out with my action figures to excess. Right in front of all my My Little Ponies, too. I’m sorry you had to see that, Moondancer.

Do you think there is a connection between feminism and femdom? If so, how would you characterize it?

Only in the sense that any issue involving women claiming their sexual desires, especially ones forbidden by the cultural roles thrust upon them, can be framed as a feminist issue.

I am an avowed feminist, and I find the conflation of “feminist” with “thinks women are superior to men” annoying. I do not believe that. Interestingly, woman-as-goddess is a huge part of the fem-dom fantasy. It’s common to see men painting women as the superior sex, especially submissive men. I have no use for that. It’s not any better, to my mind, than telling me that men are superior. It’s offensive to me as a person, and I am really tired of it, and tired of people who dismiss feminism because they do not understand what it’s about. There are legitimate bones to pick with modern feminist dialogue, it has its areas of ignorance, but one thing it is not about is putting women above men. I’ll get off my soapbox now.

I do think that femdom is often depicted in an incredibly sexist way, and while leather-clad ice-queen porn can still be well-produced and very hot, and while I don’t fault people who like it or fantasize about it (what gets you off gets you off, have a great time and don’t be ashamed), its rampant exclusion, as a genre, of the desires of actual dominant women is a huge problem, a huge turn-off, and a huge barrier to dominant women recognizing their own dominant inclinations for what they are. Thankfully, it’s changing, and I have hopes that we will be seeing more appealing male-sub imagery and writing. I am trying to contribute to that by writing erotica that appeals to me personally.

I also think that for a lot of people, the femdom fantasy does derive a great deal of its power from the subversion or inversion of traditional roles, whether we are aware of that individually or not, whether that’s affected us individually or not. I can’t honestly say whether that’s had an effect on me. I was so young when I started having these thoughts that I am inclined to think that a desire to reverse traditional roles had nothing to do with it. Those roles are probably what kept me from recognizing it for what it was in the first place.


So drop on by and say hello! And peruse the other interviews while you're there! They have been a fascinating cross-section of kinky folks, and I really admire the project and what DD is trying to do.

Penthesilea's interview is especially excellent, and what she has to say about femdom/kink/BDSM and feminism is spot-on, and I wish I had read it when I answered that question, because I could have just pointed to it and said "What she said."
naamah_darling: Close cropped image of a blonde ponytailed man with a woman pulling a black stocking tightly around his neck. (BDSM)
This is an article cross-posted from Adventurotica.com! Come on over and comment on the original post!
 
sex kitten and the scientist

Using the shit out of the only tool you have is not exercising a special form of power.

article by Amanda Gannon

There's been a whole kerfuffle about this piece on Cracked that, at one point later on, talks about how male horniness is basically the driving force of civilization.

I think Amanda Marcotte really addresses the article itself well here on Pandagon.

So it's not specifically that article I want to discuss, it's the idea that women, because men want to fuck them, have all the power. More, I want to discuss how that idea is used to placate and dismiss genuine concerns about misogyny, and how this negatively affects pretty much everyone.

I'm not denying that attractive women have a potent advantage, nor am I denying that lust is a powerful motivating force. I'm not saying that being desired gives the person so desired no extra hold on the person that desires them. All of these things are true, but they aren't the only truth. Reducing women's power – and really, I just hate that phrase, the very idea of it, as if women have a special power that men do not . . . but I get ahead of myself. Ahem. Reducing women's power to sex is . . . frankly, that's a hostile act that diminishes us.
Acting as though that one power is the most important power we have is not cool. It soft-pedals the stripping away of our sources of real power. We still have our tits and asses, so everything must be fine, right? Only it's not all right, because things are not all right for us. Women have a hard fucking time, and free drinks really can't take the edge off of the horrifying erosion of civil rights taking place in the U.S.
Even if it could, tits and ass power is really available only to a subset of a subset of women.

One, it's only available to women who are attractive enough to pull it off; women who don't match that standard can't do it. That standard is pretty narrow, even at the wide end. A woman can be disqualified from it if she is old, fat, disabled, of a different race, or even just, frankly, not attractive. The number of women who have full access to that power is limited, because our definition of attractive is limited.

Two, it's most beneficial to people who use it, and not everyone is willing to use it. An attractive person will reap the benefits of their attractiveness whether they try or not, or are aware of it or not, but that passive privilege is very different from actively taking that advantage and using it as a lever. Make no mistake, it's a big goddamn lever – and I'm not even saying a person shouldn't use it, I believe that if we are at a disadvantage, using anything that gives us an advantage is good as long as we do it ethically – but it's not issued to every woman at birth, and we only get to keep it until we get fat or old or something like that.

So this pussy power thing is a sop, it's a flimflam job, it's something we're told that we have and it's used to draw attention away from the fact that we aren't taught or sometimes even allowed to use other kinds of power. This leaves us open to manipulation. It leaves us vulnerable to attack. It's no mistake that even though we can't all achieve pure pussy power, we are told that it is the ultimate woman power. And many people, many, many people, really and truly believe that it is.

There are strict limits on pussy power. Limits to how sexual we are supposed to be, and with whom, and in what way. The way I see it, it's a power that is valuable only as long as it is rare. It depends on scarcity. That's why women who fuck a lot are considered sluts or out of control. Women who do use their sexy leverage are seen nearly as negatively, as manipulators, femmes fatale, as cold and calculating heartless bitches. Even when we do use our power, we're criticized for it, labeled and judged.

Making men helpless with lust is one kind of power, but it's not the only power there is.
So what else is there? Only the power that all people have. Our cunning, our bravery, our love. Our passion. Our anger. Our wounds. Our humanity. Reducing women to a supposed ability to either provoke or manipulate men into action is doing women and men a tremendous disservice.
You likey? Throw us a donation!





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 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.

A memo.

Aug. 23rd, 2010 08:13 pm
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Cain)
Aaand we're back to the "dreaming about sex with James Purefoy" channel. Set your TiVo, because tonight is the two hour Doggy Style special!

Yeah. That's what I get for watching the good parts of Solomon Kane before bed.

I've had it way worse for other hot guys, I truly have, and I have been hot for James for years, but for some reason my brain has suddenly decided that this is Really Really Important, and needs to be dealt with RIGHT THIS VERY INSTANT.

I'm not complaining, I just find it confusing is all. Why him? Why now?

A memo.

Aug. 23rd, 2010 08:13 pm
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Cain)
Aaand we're back to the "dreaming about sex with James Purefoy" channel. Set your TiVo, because tonight is the two hour Doggy Style special!

Yeah. That's what I get for watching the good parts of Solomon Kane before bed.

I've had it way worse for other hot guys, I truly have, and I have been hot for James for years, but for some reason my brain has suddenly decided that this is Really Really Important, and needs to be dealt with RIGHT THIS VERY INSTANT.

I'm not complaining, I just find it confusing is all. Why him? Why now?
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Male Lust)
Dear Naamah's Subconscious,

I am aware that we have had kind of A Thing for James Purefoy ever since we saw him in A Knight's Tale, and that recent events including but not limited to finally seeing the Solomon Kane movie and casting him as our current player character.

You do not need to remind me of this on a nightly basis, as you have for the past four days.

It is uncomfortable, rude, and aggravating.

Last night's dream was especially flagrant and lust-engorged, so much so that when I went back to sleep, I immediately told someone in the next dream what an awesome dream I'd just had.

I appreciated the set design of the retro-future-tech hortus conclusus, and I especially liked the symbolism of me upending enormous jars of fragrant earth onto the garden floor, into which lizards and snakes and all manner of other crawly animals joyously burrowed. I'm glad that my cats seemed happy with the arrangement as well.

Sending James in wearing nothing but cloven hooves, silver horns, an enormous hard-on, and a cat-chasing grin was just unnecessary and cruel, as was the ensuing sex. I appreciate your desire to make dream sex really fucking spectacular sex, but the fact remains: my orgasms require physical touch, you fucking asshole.

Pretty quasi-mythological imagery doesn't come with 6,000 rpm if you know what I mean.

Understand this: drugged on Seroquel, I am not even coherent enough to snap my fingers when I wake up after an hour and a half of sleep, let alone summon and utilize Hitachi Cat. I am probably not qualified to find my own underwear in that state. I will just roll right back over and fall asleep again. That is quite literally all I am capable of doing.

At least it was better than the Tom Jane oral sex and ice cream dream. I am still pissed at you over that one. Stealing my goddamn ice cream was just mean. Still, thanks to you I spent a restless and frustrating night continually nagged by the feeling I was forgetting something important. Like the cock of Cernunnos. Or something.

In short, keep up the good work. That was fucking awesome.

-- Naamah

P.S.: THROW JASON ISAACS IN THERE NEXT TIME. THEY'RE FRIENDS IRL, SURELY A THREESOME CAN BE ARRANGED.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Male Lust)
Dear Naamah's Subconscious,

I am aware that we have had kind of A Thing for James Purefoy ever since we saw him in A Knight's Tale, and that recent events including but not limited to finally seeing the Solomon Kane movie and casting him as our current player character.

You do not need to remind me of this on a nightly basis, as you have for the past four days.

It is uncomfortable, rude, and aggravating.

Last night's dream was especially flagrant and lust-engorged, so much so that when I went back to sleep, I immediately told someone in the next dream what an awesome dream I'd just had.

I appreciated the set design of the retro-future-tech hortus conclusus, and I especially liked the symbolism of me upending enormous jars of fragrant earth onto the garden floor, into which lizards and snakes and all manner of other crawly animals joyously burrowed. I'm glad that my cats seemed happy with the arrangement as well.

Sending James in wearing nothing but cloven hooves, silver horns, an enormous hard-on, and a cat-chasing grin was just unnecessary and cruel, as was the ensuing sex. I appreciate your desire to make dream sex really fucking spectacular sex, but the fact remains: my orgasms require physical touch, you fucking asshole.

Pretty quasi-mythological imagery doesn't come with 6,000 rpm if you know what I mean.

Understand this: drugged on Seroquel, I am not even coherent enough to snap my fingers when I wake up after an hour and a half of sleep, let alone summon and utilize Hitachi Cat. I am probably not qualified to find my own underwear in that state. I will just roll right back over and fall asleep again. That is quite literally all I am capable of doing.

At least it was better than the Tom Jane oral sex and ice cream dream. I am still pissed at you over that one. Stealing my goddamn ice cream was just mean. Still, thanks to you I spent a restless and frustrating night continually nagged by the feeling I was forgetting something important. Like the cock of Cernunnos. Or something.

In short, keep up the good work. That was fucking awesome.

-- Naamah

P.S.: THROW JASON ISAACS IN THERE NEXT TIME. THEY'RE FRIENDS IRL, SURELY A THREESOME CAN BE ARRANGED.
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. (Weird Tales)
Sucker Love: Celebrating the naughty tentacle

December has been declared a very Lovecraftian month over at Tor.com, and Weird Tales has partnered with them to provide some suitably tenta-cool content. Naturally, I was asked to write about tentacle sex. It was the single most awesome assignment I have ever had. It also turned out to be surprisingly difficult. There was so much more I could have said.

All of your (lovely) responses to the tentacle sex survey were what made this article possible. Well, that and the generous help of the folks at Whipspider Rubberworks, who make a really awesome tentacle sex toy, and who agreed to answer a few questions.

Thank you all so much for your help. Now go forth and enjoy the end result!
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Weird Tales)
Sucker Love: Celebrating the naughty tentacle

December has been declared a very Lovecraftian month over at Tor.com, and Weird Tales has partnered with them to provide some suitably tenta-cool content. Naturally, I was asked to write about tentacle sex. It was the single most awesome assignment I have ever had. It also turned out to be surprisingly difficult. There was so much more I could have said.

All of your (lovely) responses to the tentacle sex survey were what made this article possible. Well, that and the generous help of the folks at Whipspider Rubberworks, who make a really awesome tentacle sex toy, and who agreed to answer a few questions.

Thank you all so much for your help. Now go forth and enjoy the end result!
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. (Cruel Intentions Super Duper)
Would you all help me with a secret project? I am trying to get a wider picture of something here. I promise I am totally sympathetic to the cause, and won't quote anyone without their permission or portray anyone in a negative light. If you know anyone who is a tentacle fan who might be willing to answer some of these, please point them here.

Anonymous commenting will be on for the next few days. Replies will remain screened unless you tell me I may unscreen them.

If the idea of sex with tentacles appeals to you, I would appreciate your input on any or all of these.

What kind of tentacles do you prefer, if you have a preference? Biological or mechanical? Dry/slippery/slimy/oily? Rough, smooth, textured? A random swarm or attached to a person, demon, monster, sea creature? Are they sentient or attached to a sentient being or not? Suckers or no suckers? How many tentacles are we talking, here? Describe your ideal tentacle!

What is it about the idea of sex with tentacles that appeals to you? Why do you think it appeals to other people?

Are you attracted to the idea of violent, possibly nonconsensual, sex with tentacles, or to the idea of soothing smooth jazz sex with sensitive yet strong tentacles (tendercles)? Is there a sweet spot in the middle?

Main country of residence?

Orientation? Feel free to be vague about this. Lord knows I would be. I'm just curious.

Gender? Please don't feel like you have to keep this to either female or male.

Gender you are in your fantasies?

Do you prefer to think about being on the giving or receiving end of the tentacle, or both, or neither (as an observer or directing the action)?

When and how did you become aware of your thing for tentacles?

Do you have a favorite naughty tentacle piece of art (movie, manga, woodcut, etc.)? What naughty tentacle works would you consider necessary to understand the genre? What would you recommend to an enthusiastic and curious newcomer?

Is this a geek thing or does it have more mainstream appeal? Are you a geeky person?

Do you own a tentacle sex toy? If so, what do you think of it?

Did I forget to ask anything? If you want to ramble about the subject and talk about anything I didn't specifically ask about, feel free to do so!

May I quote you? If you don't explicitly answer yes, I won't.

What name would you like me to use, and how would you like me to represent you if I need to do so? (As in: "I'm Percival, a 22-year-old art student and renfair dork." "I'm Miranda, and I'm a singer/burlesque performer.")

Have at! Again, replies are screened unless you tell me I may unscreen them! Please pass this to any of your lovely tentacle pervert friends!

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