This is going up significantly later than I’d planned. It seems we only got one entrant to the roundup this time. I’d like y’all to meet my good friend Nelson. He writes at Livejournal under a couple of different names, and he submitted a very cool gallery of photos of him with a blacklight.

NSFW - Blacklight

In this time period I also posted my favorite set of self-portraits, so I’ll put that back out there as well.

Light/Dark

As Elizabeth stated, the Roundup now comes with prizes! This time we were lucky enough to be able to offer the Blossom Sleeve as a gift from the lovely folks at Babeland. I suppose by default the prize goes to Nelson! I hope you enjoy it, and be sure to send us a review after you’ve gotten fully acquainted.

Image of Catalina by AlteredAperture.com

Here’s another HNT for you — I’m on my way to NYC today for the Sex Blogger Calendar Launch Party. I hope to see you there tomorrow!! If you can’t make it, be sure to buy your copy. I’ve had a sneak peek and it’s absolutely divine!

Tags: Altered Aperture, Catalina Loves, HNT, nyc, sex blogger calendar

Tags: Altered Aperture, black and white photography, Erotic Photography, HNT

Oh, we’ve got some very exciting news about the Roundup. The wonderful and amazing Babeland is getting involved, y’all, and they’ve got fabulous prizes to give away!

Here’s the deal: all you boys that want to grace us with your yumminess, take pics and post them on your site. Then send us the link (gabe at pornocracy dot org), and we’ll gather them all together for posting. Get those *ahem* creative juices flowing quickly - the deadline is November 6! If you’ve ever thought about joining the Roundup, now’s the time to really do it, because every blog boy that enters this month gets a shot at a prize lovingly provided by Babeland. This month, Babeland is offering us the scrumptious Blossom Sleeve. The winner will be chosen in a random drawing from everybody who entered a link to their naked blog boy photo!

For more information about the Roundup, see our first roundup, and Gabe’s recent post about reviving it. Be sure to tell all your friends and stay tuned. There’s more prizes to come… next time for the drooling fans. Until then, get busy with the nakedness!

Tags: Babeland, Elizabeth, Exhibitionism, Gabe, Pornocracy

I appreciate the feedback I got recently on releasing the video of our road trip from Ohio to Louisiana. I’ve found a solution, and now you can download the video for yourselves using your favorite Bittorrent client (if you have no favorite, I suggest µTorrent).

The file is a 614MB mpg, and is 1hr 10min long. At the moment I’m seeding all by my lonesome, so forgive the slow speeds.

We’ve got screenshots here if you’d like to preview before downloading.

I have to say, though, that this isn’t free. If you want to download this home movie of ours, you simply must agree to leave us some feedback here.

Okay, enough with the rambling. Download the torrent from pornocracy or from Empornium. The latter requires registration, the former does not.

Public sex with wildly masturbating bystanders?

Yes, please.

Thank you very much.

I do love my adopted home, San Francisco. However, It is strange that, even in this purportedly hedonistic enclave of freaks, there is a serious shortfall of places to go and get your freak on.

What do you do when your roommate is just not prepared for blood-curdling labia-curling scrotum-shrinking howls from your room as your favorite fucktoy barks out “PLEASE MAY I HAVE ANOTHER!!” at 3:47 AM?

Some nights, you get your ass over to dark-dank-dingy-delightful Power Exchange.

But those nights might be drawing to a close.

Though it is one of San Francisco’s last public pansexual Sex Club and BDSM playspaces, The Power Exchange is at risk.

And this time, it isn’t a Puritanical buzz killing sour-lipped SF City Supervisor cracking down on sex.

It is plain old economics. The owner of the building is selling, and the future of the place is uncertain.

On those nights where the filthynastypiglut in you wants to be ogled and leered at and objectified by complete strangers who seem to often take a Mystery Science Theater 3000 approach to watching sex acts, there’s no place like the Power Exchange. This is an excerpt of one of my favorite scene memories from PE.

Strolling through the main play area, surrounded by the fencing, we checked out all of the side rooms, peeked in on the wankers in the TV room, and wound up in the ‘bullpen’ area. After securing a chain across the break in the fence, Sir turned to me, flipped me around and up against the cross. I was giggling a bit, as I thought this would be light and easy. We had no toys or the usual accouterments of BDSM along for the ride: how far could it go?

Pressed against the cross, my forehead against the cool wood, I felt his fingers fasten on to my breasts, the nipple trapped again between his fingers. And he began pinching. Several seconds went by as I realized the pressure he was applying was indeed becoming extremely painful…my head was swimming and tears blurred my eyes. I wriggled, trying to escape. That bought be several hard slaps to my ass and another shove against the cross. More wriggling, more shoving. Those hands, capable of inflicting a bruising pinch strayed not far from my breasts for some time. Turning me around, he pulled my breasts away from my chest, stretching them painfully. I panted, trying to breather more deeply. He smiled. How is it that a smile can warm and chill me simultaneously?

Pulling me towards him by the tips of my breasts, he leaned down to kiss me, breath smoky and sweet from the Havana cigar and port he’d consumed after dinner. I was pushed roughly against the cross again, as he pondered what to do with me….slapping the insides of my thighs was the next place he went. Loud resounding slaps were followed by my yowls and moans. The flesh was immediately sensitized, and it was all I could do to stand and take the next slap.

Soon, it was too much and my legs reflexively closed.

“Spread your legs.”

I shook my head and squeezed them even more tightly together. Grabbing a handful of the hair on my labia, he pulled and twisted till I screamed.

“Spread your legs.” He repeated, and I did so with alacrity.

Warmed up yet?

Check out the complete spread at “The Power Exchange: A Memory” on The Perverted Negress

xoxo

~Mo

Tags: BDSM, BDSM play, Kink, masochism, Mollena, power exchange, sadism, scenes, sex clubs, The Perverted Negress

I don’t know what you’ve done to me,
But I know this much is true:
I wanna do bad things with you.

~Jace Everett

~xo

Trust Me... Does That Look Like A Girl Who Would Steer You Wrong?

Catalina’s Favorite Sex Blog Posts Of The Week! Thanks to Altered Aperture who makes me all pretty and then captures it on camera time and time again.

CatalinaLoves.com:

• Catalina loves Random Things
• Catalina loves The Liberator Throe
  

CatalinaSays.com:

• Busy as a Beaver
• Where Do Pro Dommes Advertise? Want To Go To Oral Sex Night? Beware of Eden!

BestSexBloggers.com:

• Time For Our CommUNITY To Work Together For the Butterfly Temptress
• Impostor

Backdoor Bondage Blog:

• Backdoor Bondage’s Clip Store Has Claire Adams and Petal Benson Hanging Upside Down In a Cage In The Woods For Sex (it’s awesome!!)
• Madison Young is a Rigger’s Dream

Into The Attic Blog:

• Yep, That’s a Real Deer Leg

Thursday’s Child:

• Intoxication

Dungeon Place:

• Hotel Rooms, Ex Wives, and Submission (A three-part series)

Mz Berlin’s Blog:

• I’m back from Kink.com where I shot with Princess Donna for Wired Pussy

Ms. Nikki Nefarious:

• Rigging for Athena Fatale and Jinx1313

Shared Cindy:

• Judy’s Story - Part 1

The Urban Gypsy:

• Cleavage of the Day: NYC Free Foods, Mint Oreos, and Advil

Sweltering Celt:

• HNT - Boobiestar Edition

Leather Yenta:

• New York Leather Weekend - Sunday

Debauched Domestic Diva:

• HNT - Calendar Preview

Curvaceous Dee:

• Made Of Awesome - HNT

The Butterfly Temptress:

• Life.Love.Cancer - CommUNITY

::psst… for more hot sex blog links go to Sugasm.com::

Tags: Altered Aperture, athena fatale, BackDoor Bondage Blog, Best Sex Bloggers, blog series, Bondage Rigging, Butterfly Temptress, cancer fundraiser, Catalina Loves, Catalina Says, Claire Adams, cleavage, cleavage pics, CommUNITY, Curvaceous Dee, debauched domestic diva, dominatrix advertising, dungeon place, EdenFantasys, favorite sex blog, HNT, hnt boob, hnt calendar, i am made of awesomeness, into the attic blog, intoxication, jinx1313, kink dot com, kinky blog, Leather Yenta, Liberator, life love cancer community, Link Roundup, madison young, Ms. Nikki Nefarious, Mz Berlin, new york leather weekend, Oral Sex Night, princess donna, Pro-Domme, Professional Dominatrix, rigging, Sex Blog, Shared Cindy, The Week In Kink, thursday’s child, Unusual gags, Urban Gypsy, wired pussy

Catalina by AlteredAperture.com

Okay, so technically this is a little more than half-naked, but one could argue that since you really only see my bum a little it still counts!  Besides, I’m looking for a good excuse to show it off!  I’ve been waiting all week for today!  Big round of applause, please, for Ms. Nikki Nefarious who is the photographer behind AlteredAperture.com for making magic happen!

Tags: Altered Aperture, Catalina Loves, HNT, Ms. Nikki Nefarious, redhead

I understand the needs of marketers. The fact is, if you want to sell a website to horny voyeurs and fans of exhibitionism, the name “Public Disgrace” is a lot better than “Practical Rope.”

But when I go to the site and see pictures like the above one, I want to cheer. Princess Donna is the rigger for the site (as well as the devious mind that comes up with the public acts of disgrace the women go through) and she is providing a great service to the rope community.

See, many of  questions I get from everyday ropesluts (and yes, I mean tops and bottoms) are how to integrate the rope techniques into everyday stuff. Not everyone has a bondage frame in their bedroom, or a cross, or even a spanking bench. But other items of furniture - like the one above, a pool table - can be integrated with simple rope techniques. What, a few one-column ties and a two column tie put her in the position above? Easy stuff from any rope 101 class or book.

Practical rope. How to tie someone so that they can be gang-banged on a sawhorse, for example. OK, maybe that’s not exactly your kink that you had in mind, and maybe your elbows can’t touch in back the way that Lorelei Lee can. For that matter, not everyone has the fantasy of drowning in cocks that she seems to be fulfilling…though come to think of it, I know quite a few women who do.

I’m not saying that the site is going to be any kind of rope instruction - it’s not. It’s about sex, and exhibitionism, and public humiliation taken to the extreme (and I’ll have a lot to say about that later, since Sascha and I did some of it ourselves. That word on her chest? It means “cunt” in Russian, and it’s only one of many that were written on her body).

But Princess Donna is someone I would love to have a beer with and just talk about ways to take the classic rope skills and adapt them to everyday environments - or unusual ones, like this one with Sabrina Fox (yes, this site is Wired Pussy, which she also rigs for. She’s also a model. The woman must never sleep). That kind of inventiveness and adaptability is what I really think goes into a great rope top.

It’s a practical skill. I love the new sites that are coming up, everything from expanded shoots from the Twisted Factory to Boss Bondage to the Sergeant Major, but when do we kinksters get our own HGTV site? “This Old Dungeon,” “Trading Masters,” “Project Spankway,” or just a daily talk show with several submissive women talking about recent intense scenes they’ve been in or heard of called “The Whew.”

Or just “Practical Rope with Princess Donna.” I’m tellin’ ya, if this smut thing doesn’t work out, they’ve got a winner there…

Last night was rather interesting. I did a live rope performance for/with my good friend Madison Young at her gallery Femina Potens. Dave Navarro, for his IFC TV show, came to the the gallery & made it a sound stage for the night as 3 blood related performances were put on for him and filmed for the show. I won’t go into detail because that would spoil the show once it airs next June but let just say that it involved a very sexy readhead, water, earth, rope, suspension, knives and blood, a lot of blood.

So… as soon as I get details of when the show will air, I will pass them along!

Tags: blood, dave navarro, madison young, rope, suspension, tv

A little something I donated myself….to see more of me and others, click the button below!

This shot is not just of me, but I think nicely sums up the whole Folsom Experience.

Yes, that’s a guy holding his dick behind my head. No, I have no idea he’s there. (My Master thought this was very funny!) Many guys walk around the fair entirely naked, or wearing just a cock-ring, or nipple rings, or a collar. Not many women do! Happily, most of the naked guys are gay, which means they don’t bother me at all — I think gay men should romp naked in the streets at every possible opportunity! But for some reason, the kinds of straight guys who choose to wander around naked are always the kinds of guys who just come off as a little slimy, the not cool kind of perverts.

Although I must say that this year I didn’t get my ass grabbed when we were in the crowd — people really seemed more polite this year. Folsom gets really crowded — there are parts of the street where it’s just a seething mass of people, with not more than two inches in between them, and all are pushing and shoving to get in their desired direction, which is generally the completely opposite one from the people around them! It’s pure chaos, but as you look around you, people are dressed in leather and latex and schoolgirl outfits and ponygirl gear and uniforms and, well, every fetish there is (including the guys walking around naked) and it’s really an amazing experience.

Anyway, in the shot above, I was just in between taking pictures. Here’s a couple of the shots I was taking. Since the “which do you like best post I did last week was so well received, I’ll ask your artistic opinions again, do you like the first one or the second one best?
Continue reading “Folsom Street Fair pictures”

Tags: BDSM, Bondage, corset/girdle, digital photography, Events, folsom street fair, Kink, pictures, r/l scenes, stockings/heels

My Master came home last Friday night, and left this morning. We only had two full days together, and one of them was spent running around the Folsom Street Fair, so even less one-on-one time.

Saturday he was jet-lagged and worn out. We spend an indolent day in our apartment. I served him breakfast, lunch, tea, and dinner. And we cuddled on the sofa all evening.

Sunday did not go as it was supposed to go. I had an outfit planned, and then there were a serious of clothing malfunctions, and I had a hell of a time finding something to wear, which was compounded by waking up to a serious sore throat. (Which, of course, after spending the day running around a crowded street fair, is much worse today!) The outfit needed to do a number things:

1. it had to be sexy
2. but it had to keep me covered up from the sun
3. because I already had a sore throat, comfy shoes were called for, because while I can handle the pain of walking all over The City in six-inch stillettos when I feel well, when I don’t feel well, adding extra stress and discomfort is not a good idea

Finding an outfit that fit all of the above was darn near impossible, after both my prefered option, and my “Plan B” were shot. And we were supposed to get to the fair early, and the clock kept ticking as I kept getting more and more stressed out about finding the right thing to wear.

Finally, he took the useless upset puddle of me, held me lovingly, and ordered me to go put on a traditional schoolgirl uniform (”I don’t care that the Americans won’t get why what you are wearing is really a fetish outfit, it will please me and that’s what matters.”)

So, instead of getting to the fair early, by the time we got there it was already crowded — too crowded to really do the photography I wanted to do.

But we did get there in good time to shoot Luke Degre rigging up the lovely Lady Ivy, whom I have a serious crush on. We got some great shots of their really intense scene. (I have to say, I’m glad my Master isn’t interested in using staple guns!)

I’ll be spending the day processing those images, and I’ll share the best with you lot over here. Although at the moment I’m on the sofa, eating a grapefruit and drinking lots of fluids and trying to do the right thing for my throat, which is very displeased with me!

Before my Master left for his business trip today, made the kind of love to me that we both like best.

He indicated I was to give him a hand-job, and as I did he pinched my nipples, making me moan in that lovely combined pleasure/pain. Suddenly he rolled me over on my back, and started spanking my pussy. As I shrieked (mostly in delight, but also in pain as the slaps became heavier and heavier) and he said, “You have kaya to blame for this!” I managed to say, in between gasps, that kaya would be most pleased, but reconsidering it, I know kaya is not a sadist and would never wish pain upon her fellow slaves, so I think actually it will be kaya’s wonderful Master S. who would be most pleased! ;)

After he’d had enough of spanking my pussy, he rolled me back around tightly into his arms, and started spanking my bottom with serious intensity. (Honestly, I think my motto as a slave should be, “A warm-up? What’s that?!”) I clung to him and just hung on for the ride. It was actually really thrilling! Warm-ups are possibly over-rated!

When he was done, as we re-adjusted positions, his leg came up against my pussy, and the liquid evidence of how much I love his sadistic attentions.

Nothing more needed to be said, and suddenly he was on top of me, fucking me in missionary position. This was never really a favorite of mine, I was always more of a doggie-style girl, but with him I just come and come and come when he fucks me that way. (Well, I really just come whichever way he fucks me. But it’s always a surprise for me to enjoy missionary so much.)

Then we ended up in our usual final position: me on top. We’ve worked out a good rhythm for this, because after I come, often my legs go all like jelly and I can’t keep on riding him, so after I come hard, I take a break and go down on him, then climb back up and ride away to another orgasm, and then, ahem, rise and repeat until he comes, either in my mouth or in my pussy. Today it was in my pussy. We came really hard together, and I love how connected that makes us feel.

Then we took a shower together, which is another of our favorite ways to connect. We started the tradition when I first started sleeping over at his place, and I still lather him all over with body wash. I still giggle when washing his genitals. I still love running the foamy soap over the strong muscles of his thighs and calves. We often kiss in the shower. Kissing as water runs down your bodies is so purely romantic, at least to us: we are water creatures for sure!

Now he’s gone, but I still feel all warm and connected to him. If only my throat wasn’t aching so much, I’d be just perfectly happy. I joked to him that sex should be mandatory on Monday mornings!

Tags: Events, folsom street fair, Kink, our story, r/l scenes, Spanking

One from my archives…

So, when i wrote up my fantasy post Dinner at La Domaine i really had no idea that a week later i’d be, well, having dinner at La Domaine. Although perhaps “having” is not the best descriptor for my experience of the meal.

This fantasy of being the centerpiece and entertainment at a dinner party is one that has been a permanent fixture in our fantasy life since i became my Master’s submissive. It was what attracted us to La Domaine in the first place. And Master R went to great lengths to help us live out that fantasy, for which we are incredibly grateful.

As the guests arrived my Master and i left our room and went out into the living room to meet and greet them. i was feeling very shy about the upcoming evening, so i stayed very close to Him, curled up on the floor at His feet. The guests were all friends of La Domaine who Master R had invited to come for dinner and participate in our little fantasy fulfillment. As with the previous night, it was really very enjoyable to just be able to socialize as a couple, and to do so in our D/s roles. For all my shyness in the moment, i’m a very extroverted person, so while i stayed close to my Master, i happily participated in the conversation from the floor as we got to know the other guests. Master Max was relaxed and exuded confidence and dominance. Fiend, naked and sitting on the floor next to me, was fun and talkative. Mistress Suzanne (Suze to her friends) was beautiful, charming and friendly, and i was instantly smitten.

Soon it was time for dinner. i was sent off into the bedroom to strip, and when i came back wearing only my cuffs, collar and a pretty pair of black lace panties, my Master helped me up onto the table, on my stomach, bound in a hog tie position. The table was set around me and the guests were seated. Things mostly started slowly, with the guests not quite sure what was expected or allowed. The first course was served, and my Master and Master R took turns feeding me bits of soup from their spoons, making me feel like a pampered pet. (Or as Master R would tell me later, a baby bird…) While the first course was being cleared and the next was being prepared, Mistress Suzanne pulled out a length of silk rope and using it to adjust my bondage to her liking. This broke this ice, and everyone started using me for entertainment, as was the whole point of the activity. There was much fun of trying to balance water glasses on various portions of my anatomy, and attempts to find my elusive tickle spots. Master Max was seated at my foot, quietly and sadistically flicking at the reflex spot on my knee - you know, the one the doctor hits with the hammer to make you kick? Master Max scares me. But mostly in a good way.

Going in, we didn’t have a set plan for how things would go. We knew that i could probably only take about 20 minutes in the bondage. But what to do after that? We weren’t sure, and just planned to play it by ear. And at about the 20 minute point i did start getting uncomfortable, my fingers in particular getting a little tingly. But i was having fun - really in subby heaven being the focal point of all that attention, so it was decided that there would still be room for everyone to eat if i were on my back. And that’s when the fun really started.

With so many more delicate bits on display, i was getting teased and tormented from all sides. Mistress Suzanne pulled out a little vibrator and positioned it up against my clit, and everyone debated the right vibration setting to put it on. She pulled out her Evil Stick, and there was much tormenting me with that. It is a very thin and very light composite rod. It requires almost no effort to use, but is remarkably stingy. Like a cane, it doesn’t hurt on impact, but immediately after. When her early attempts faded too quickly, she applied five quick strokes to my belly. i had enough time to think “oh, that’s not so bad…” when the blood rushed in and it was like fire. Slave riddle took things a little too far, hitting me with it directly on my nipple, which had me clutching my nipple and hyperventilating until everyone reminded me to take slow, deep breaths. At one points Mistress Suzanne had a vibrating glove on and was running her hands over my neck. i kept wincing and gasping, which had her very confused until she realized that Mistress Collette was scratching my leg with a fork at the same time, and Master Max was up to no good with the bottom of my other foot. Another memorable moment was Mistress Suzanne scratching me with a little tiny knife. Someone joked about blood on the table cloth, and i expressed that blood was a hard limit, whereupon she said “Well then you better stay absolutely still, then.” Eek!

Things would relax a little as each course was served and everyone was busy eating (including me, in baby bird style, thanks to my Master and Master R) only to pick up again as the plates were cleared and the next course was being prepared. i was terrified when the sorbet course came out, but the room was warm enough that the little dabs of sorbet on my nipples and pussy were a welcome relief - particularly when my Master and Mistress Suzanne took turns cleaning it off my nipples!

As we finished the savory courses and headed into dessert, my Master decided i had had enough. Hopped up on endorphins, buzzing from the attention, and all of a sudden feeling self conscious, i was helped down from the table. i knelt next to Him, kissing Him and putting my head into His lap, needing to be close to Him, needing to touch Him. i ate my dessert from His spoon as He fed me as i knelt there beside Him.

If you’ve read the fantasy i wrote, then you’ll know that this reality is much different than that fantasy. My (our) fantasies are frequently darker than our realities or what we’d want our realities to be, and this was no exception. While it gave me a taste of the objectification i crave, it was also really fun and playful and joyful, and i felt like i had served my purpose well and made my Master happy, which is of course, the thing i wanted most of all.

Suspension in the rope community is kind of like politics - you can talk about it for hours, with wildly disparate opinions from equally competent individuals, and everything from welding techniques to tables calculating the potential force of impact for falling bodies from various heights fill the mailing lists of rope enthusiasts.

What, you think we talk about the hot chicks gettin’ tied up and hung in the air? No, we’re too busy whining about the carabiner that pinched our fingers, or the fact that such-and-so put his shears in his right pocket, not his left, so wait, is he a switch now?

(and while that’s not an exaggeration, at least we don’t have to have a subgroup called “People for the Ethical Treatment of Pronouns.” And you know who you are).

That being said, my friend Matisse recently published a very fun interview with my other friend Lochai (both of whom I hate because they get to hang out a lot with people I see all too infrequently, beginning with themselves). It was presented as a description of someone who pretty much has a one-of-a-kind job, a dream occupation where he gets paid to tie up and sexually amuse some of the most beautiful women in the world. At the time I thought it might be fun to write an article about the other side of the coin, about what it’s like being one of the many everyday riggers who go out to clubs and tie up the rest of the beautiful people in the world for some variety of amusement or other.

I still think that would be an interesting article. But this is not it.

No, this article is for the other half of the equation: the suspendee.

You see, one of the things that your everyday average rigger does, on occasion, is goes to clubs that have some sort of “fetish nights” and puts up people in their first suspension. Or their 732nd, but the point is it’s just the fun of flying, of getting to play in the ropes. It’s like going and playing on the swing, for grownups.

Now, from a rigger’s perspective, it’s pretty intense. It’s a constant evaluation of many factors, starting with environment (often dark, often smoky, often crowded, often loud). There’s the person who wants to be suspended, often a stranger, and you have to evaluate their physicality and state of mind (or inebriation) and come up with the best way to tie the ropes (and, for that matter, which ropes to use? Which hardware?). I suspect that part of the enjoyment that the suspendee gets out of the process is not just the fun of flying, but also the focused attention of the rigger, who, if she/he is any good, is almost total.

I don’t want to give the impression that it’s like a checklist. No, if you’re rigging in clubs, usually you’ve reached a point where it’s more like rock climbing - you do these checks constantly, unconsciously, moving by feel rather than step by step. You learn to feel how a knot is, rather than seeing, and focus on the tension of the person and the frame and the environment all in a sort of fugue state.

It’s awesome.

But it’s also pretty draining, when all is said and done. And that’s why I’m writing this. The image above is of a friend who was in her first suspension, and it was great. She communicated throughout it how she felt, she had fun twisting and writhing (as you can see) and at the end she gave me a big hug and pronounced “I’m HUNGRY!” with a big smile, which I took as a great compliment.

Then there was C. and that’s what this post is about. Without further adieu or Princess-Bridesque introductions, here is Graydancer’s Guide to What Not to Do in Suspension:

1. Don’t hang back, looking like you really want to talk but not actually having the courage to do so. This breaks the primary need of good rope bondage, communication.
2. When you do come up, don’t start the conversation by saying “What’s the story with this, anyway? Why would anyone want to get tied up?” This breaks the secondary need of good rope bondage, courtesy. (Also known as respect, but I’m feeling alliterative alot as it ‘appens).
3. When you ask for a comfortable suspension, as opposed to a painful one, do not act as if the rigger’s suggestion that the underwire bra might be uncomfortable is the same as suggesting you let him double-fist you.
4. When the ropes begin to push the aforementioned underwire bra into shapes that reveal more of your breasts, do not act as if this was a plot of the rigger to try and expose more skin. I guarantee you, either he’s seen more, or she’s got more.
5. When the rigger is focusing on tying the ropes as comfortably on your body as possible, do not spend the time waving at, making gestures at, and shouting to your flabbergasted friends across the bar.
6. When you go up into suspension, it is fine to request that your feet and hands remain free. It’s even fine to twist around in the ropes and play - that’s what it’s for, after all. The rigger will be watching and sometimes touching the ropes or checking your hands (if tied) for tension and circulation. Your friends are not part of that testing process, however.
7. It is NOT fine, however, to comment sarcastically that the suspension would be “easy to escape from.” It will give the top a heart attack at the thought of an eel trying to escape a full suspension (gravity will help you at the most inopportune moment).
8. To then smirk sarcastically and remove the comfortably loose thigh ropes from over your (at your request) untied feet with your (at your request) untied hands and say “Well, THAT wasn’t very hard to get out of!” as you stand up is likely to make the rigger’s hands twitch. There’s a couple of Japanese words going through his/her head at that moment, and if you are into comfortable, escapable suspension, you don’t want to learn them.
9. To then shrug out of the chest and waist bands, leaving them in a traditional WhatTheFuck knot hanging from the carabiner is perhaps less than considerate of the rigger trying to get ready for the next suspendee.
10. To put on your skirt and top and then walk off to join your jeering friends - no thank-you, goodbye, or offer of a shot of Lagavulin neat and some Godiva extra dark -  breaks, again, the primary and secondary requirements of good rope bondage.

See, there’s this thing in kink called “aftercare.” Everybody has different needs for it. Her needs, apparently, involved talking with her friends about it, laughing, drinking more. That’s cool. But tops need aftercare, as well, and while that may be as simple as a polite “thank you, I’m HUNGRY!” it’s usually something. it’s polite, as in any human interaction, to at least ask.

Because I’m here to tell ya, even if the woman had the most amazingly smooth thighs I’ve ever seen (and yes, she did, in fact, I’ve tied a lot of people, and her thighs were quite literally breathtaking) at the end, if that’s how the suspension went…the rigger feels like shit. He/she is likely to get grumpy as they take down their frame and walk out into the night. And you are not likely to get suspended by that rigger again.

On the other hand, K, the model in the picture above? Treat the rigger like she did, and they are likely to text you and ask how you are the next day, and even share some really nice pics of the suspension with you and the entire audience of the Best Sex Bloggers.

However, the Lagavulin and Godiva special dark will suffice, as well.

Tags: fine art, Janice, Kiki, nipple, soothing

So last week was rough. The hurricane passed right over us, leaving us without power for who knew how long. Not being fans of an un-air-conditioned late summer in Louisiana, we figured out how to just get out of town until things were cleaned up and the power was back. After a week of driving 1.5 cars over 1000 miles, staying with family and visiting friends we were exhausted and stressed about the now dead car, the drive home, what we’d find when we got back and how we’d pay bills after evacuation costs, car repairs and lost wages. We needed spiritual nourishment, and we needed it fast. First we visited our favorite sex shop in Houston, TX (Eros 1207) just so we’d feel back in our own environment for a while. That was quite a help, and there were plenty of toys and accessories to lust after (including a 2009 calendar featuring the gorgeous Belladonna). More importantly however were the free guides to the adult nightlife in the Houston area. After perusing them we decided we’d hit up our first fully nude strip club that evening. The Show Palace was nearby, and had no cover before 9pm. That sounded perfect for us, and it turned out to be just a block or two from Eros.

The Show Palace was a new kind of experience for me. The only other strip club I’d been to before was the local topless bar, The Gold Club, I wrote about a while back and I was struck and delighted by the contrasts of that place with the Show Palace. While this new club is no dive, it’s not as shiny and new looking as our local club. The lighting was much lower (both on stage and in the crowd). The Show Palace doesn’t serve any alcohol at all, though you’re welcome to bring your own. Instead you get to buy a $7 soda for the privilege of being in their club. The biggest difference, of course, is that the dancers at the Gold Club are topless, while those at the Show Palace are topless and bottomless. The most pleasing thing about the Show Palace was the variety of the dancers. The body types ranged from skinny and lithe to chubby and round. There were so many shades of skin and hair. Their outfits went from clingy black dresses to g-strings and barely there tops. And each one of them was gorgeous!

My biggest problem with the place was the lack of lighting on the stage. Even standing at the edge of the stage it was very dim. Talking with one of the dancers we learned that the DJ only worked there sporadically and didn’t really know the lighting controls all that well. Of course she also said that having the lights on was good for some of the performers but not for others. That part was a bit sad to hear, as I thought every woman in the place looked amazing.

I do wish I had more recall of the details of the place, but I have to admit that my brain is fried from the week. I know I tipped at least three performers, and I remember two of them. I also remember one who I wished would have danced while we were there. I think I’m just going to write about one, though.

Sophia is tall, a bit chubby and delightfully curved. I had seen her walking around the club and pointed her out to Elizabeth, who squealed “She’s my size!” Sophia is the very definition of voluptuous. She has full lips that seem constantly curved into a smile. Her breasts didn’t so much peek over the top of her dress as they did explode out of it. Her waist narrows and flows into a soft belly. Her thighs are thick and move delightfully as she walks. Her ass is big, round and I just wanted to take a bite out of her. When she went up on stage we both headed on up during her first song. I felt like I lost track of how many ones I was dropping on stage around her. Her dress was pulled up around her waist and down under her tits and she leaned back and spread her legs for me. Her hand ran over her pussy a few times. The labia were just slightly parted and the small tuft of hair above them was so pretty. She turned through several poses, laying on her side with a leg in the air above her, on her hands and knees rolling her ass in circles in front of me. She was especially good at the boobs in the face move. The other times I’ve had that done I’ve either had to take off my glasses or get them covered in makeup. Sophia worked her way up me and kept her breasts under my glasses, rubbing my cheeks with them. It was an excellent move. I can’t remember everything she did with Elizabeth, I just remember Sophia nibbling on her ear and the smile on Elizabeth.

She came by our table after her set to introduce herself and let us know we should look for her if we wanted a dance. If I just had the money…

Though the club advertises as “fully nude” how that’s implemented seems to be up to the dancers themselves. As I said, some come out in a g-string and a barely there bikini top, and they tended to discard the bottoms and pull the triangles of fabric on their tops to the side. A few actually tossed away everything they were wearing except for their garters and shoes. Those in dresses, however seemed to take a different approach, just doing what Sophia did and lowering the top and raising the bottom of the dress so we could see tits and ass (and, in this club, pussy). I can’t keep from remarking that these women were also the bigger ones. Perhaps the curse of chubby girl porn where the women keep their bellies covered is also prevalent in the chubby (or more likely, the merely not-skinny) stripper crowd. It’s no secret that I dig fat chicks. Hell, it’s no secret that I just adore women of all kinds of shapes and sizes. That includes bellies. So when I saw that fully nude translated to “you can see pussy!” and not fully nude women in all the shapes and sizes that this club had, I felt a little sad. I hope that the scrunched up dress was just a matter of convenience for the dancers, and not a sign of shame. Bodies need to be more celebrated. That means bellies, scars, stretchmarks, birthmarks and all.

I’m sure I’ll be visiting the Show Palace again next time I’m in the Houston area. I’ll also be asking if Sophia’s working. That’ll determine if we buy the VIP wristbands. I just think $60 for a private dance from her for the two of us is so very worth it.

The Show Palace has no cover with a one $7 drink minimum before 9pm, but is $25 per person after. Lapdances are $20. VIP wristbands are $10 at the door, $20 after entry with VIP dances being $40. There’s no alcohol, though you can bring your own. Because of the lack of a full bar the club is 18+.

Show Palace at StripHouston.com
Show Palace at StripClubList.com

Crossposted from Pornocracy

One morning rising from your bed
A funny thought pops in your head
What fun you’d have if you could pass
Like Alice, through the looking glass

But your mirror is no magic door
Of that you feel you can be sure
The reflection shows no one but you
Then a hand snaps out and pulls you through

At first it seems like nothing’s changed
Then things begin to rearrange
It isn’t your house, or even your town
It seems the world’s turned upside down

The moon’s bright red, the sun is blue
Grass is purple, leaves are too
Birds all crawl on claw and wing
While cats and dogs both fly and sing

North is south and left is right
Hot is cold and day is night
Yes means no and go means stop
In is out and bottom’s top

Dark is light and good is bad
Wet is dry, happy is sad
Big is small and high is low
Loud is soft and fast is slow

Your head begins to spin and ache
This is much more than you can take
Feeling confused and so alone
You close your eyes and think of home

The air around you starts to shift
You feel you’re being cast adrift
While falling up you look around
Below is sky, above is ground

Your face about to hit the dirt
This crazy world seems to revert
Soft pillows now support your head
As you bounce awake in your own bed

You think at first “Twas just a dream”
Then notice things aren’t as they seem
You’re wearing shoes beneath the sheet
And they’re on your hands ‘stead of your feet

~Lewis Carroll

Greetings from Black River Falls WI!

Spankfestival is in full swing right now, and when we say swing, we’re yes, talking about swingers, pagans, kinky folk, bikers, and librarians. All gather at the NCN Campground for a decadent weekend of debauchery and other de- words.

Sabrina and Graydancer have been busy (as can be seen from the above picture) teaching classes on Fetish Performance Techniques (where she gave Graydancer the all-new-epithet “Fucktard” as part of the performance) and Full-Contact Dom, where she developed the all-new ultimate fighter defense, Cross-Eyed Goofy Fist. Graydancer also returned to his food-service roots and decorated her with rope and sushi for an exclusive dinner party Thursday night. It was during that time that the important culinary discovery was made that while wasabi is not necessarily the best lubricant, it does, in fact, go well with grapes.

No joke. Really. Dip a green grape in wasabi. It tastes good. Trust me.

Last night was “kinko de mayo” and Sabrina and Graydancer worked with Leon (the Instant Expert), Lqqkout, Sarah Sloane, Ms. C and several other models to create a human pinata installation using 5 suspensions, 3 buckets of candy, 6 pool noodles, and hordes of sadistic sweet-toothed perverts. Today they will co-teach with Lqqkout and Nyxx a 4-hour suspension technique workshop and close out the night with a performance (weather permitting) about the dangers of being a red-headed whore of Babylon in the Bible Belt.

Video, interviews, and pictures of sexy, sexy people from Ms. Mayhem will be coming soon. We now return you to your regularly scheduled pornsurfing.

Tags: sabrina fox

There is nothing quite like being tightly clad, head to toe, in leather. As D laces me up, first into the spanking skirt, tightening around the curves of my hips, squeezing my ass into sharp relief, each cheek mounding, full and perfect, begging for the lash, for the caress and smack of his hand. Next the corset…the feeling of the leather wrapping around my curves, then drawing inward, tightening with each tug of the string, defining hips and curves, accentuating the mounds of my breasts, forcing them up and out as it becomes harder to breathe, the leather forcing my body into the shape he desires. I’m already wet with anticipation, the smooth leather passing between my legs like a kiss upon my swollen lips.
The first step outside the door, and they all look up at me, taking in the bountiful curves of my breasts. The only thing I love more is the gasps of appreciation as I walk past and they realize the rear view. The exhibitionist that I keep safely locked within me loves the attention. She revels in the heated gazes across her exposed skin, and when they ask to touch, she swoons beneath their attentions, purring beneath their caresses like a cat in heat. The feeling of another woman’s hands touching me, petting me - I am utterly decadent, reveling in all the attention - I’m enjoying this brief moment in the spotlight. This must be why attention whores crave it.
When he pulls the rope out, I am more than ready to shed the corset. But standing there, amidst friends and total strangers, I feel so exposed, made more naked by the skirt covering my lower half but leaving my ass bare. He runs the rope through his hands, and the sound it makes sends shivers down my spine. I start to melt at the first pass of rope under my breasts, over my arms and then back again. He pushes my head forward, letting the hair spill over my shoulders, over my breasts, brushing the tips of my hard nipples. I hide behind this makeshift curtain, only making eye contact here and there with those around me, but rapidly losing myself in the delicious space that rope creates for me.
Elbows pinned behind me, he turns me, this way and that, cinching my arms higher and tighter within my binds. This is the point where I can relax and fall into it, where I stop holding myself in place and just let the rope keep me in position. He checks on me frequently, making sure I am okay, but I can only smile with this goofy little grin on my face, completely blissed out. He winds the final pieces of rope around my breasts, accentuating them, forcing them up and out - it is perfection, but it only gets better.
Having created a handle behind my back, he takes me in hand, using it to direct me where ever he pleases. Back and forth, I walk, his hand on my handle, guiding me forth, to the bar, to the vendors tables. I stand next to him, lost in his grasp, while he chats and converses. He directs me to the front of the room, pushing me to my knees at the spanking bench, and guides me down, so that I lay prone and vulnerable. I cannot see the owners of the hands that spank me, that caress me and slap me. I can only hear the low rhythm of D’s voice as he teases me, making me count out every stroke, then pretending not to hear me. Afterwards, my skin is hot and quivering, and he helps me up, using the handle to pull me to my feet, and he hands me off to friends while he prepares the bench for his next victim.
Then it is back around the room, and I marvel at how different it is to be pushed ahead of him rather than led on a leash. I have no one to hide behind, and though my cheeks flame red with embarrassment, I cannot deny how much I enjoy this. No one speaks directly to me, instead they defer to him, all aware of the power that the rope has transferred between us. He shows me off, telling them to enjoy my gorgeously bound breast, asking them to run their hands over the smooth skin of my exposed ass. I would stay like this all night if the stiffness in my joints wouldn’t creep up upon me, telling me I need to be released.
The release is the worst part for me. I always want to stay in my space for longer, and as the blood returns to my stiff joints, and reality intrudes upon my euphoria, impatience returns and I long to be free so that I can melt against my husband, come down in the safety of his embrace. The last rope falls free, and he eases me into a chair, kneeling at my feet, rubbing my legs and ankles, murmuring words of love and caring. And me? I’m still sitting there, smiling that goofy grin as I transition from the momentary beauty of rope space to the wonderful reality of spending every day with the man I love and adore.

Tags: FLOG, Leather, rope

Photo by Michael Barone

We met in a bar – she was on stage singing her heart out to one of the bands whose songs always make me alternate between wanting to have sex and wanting to curl up in a ball and cry. 

God, could she sing.  Her voice was like warm honey; raw, sweet and slightly addictive.  The more you heard her sing, the more you wanted to hear her sing.  I wanted to hear her sing, and I wanted to hear her sing to me, her hazel eyes making contact with mine, her soul pouring into me.

I didn’t know how I felt about karaoke.  The problem wasn’t the usual ones; I wasn’t embarrassed, I didn’t have stage fright, no need to picture the audience in their underwear, though I was sure as hell picturing what she was wearing under her jeans and worn t-shirt. No, the problem was that I can’t sing. A theatre person, born and bred, and yet I never learned to read music, never learned what a chord was, and had no idea how to hit notes that I didn’t even know existed.  However, I am a ham at heart, and had to figure out a way to make her notice me.

Madonna was the answer. Madonna is always the answer. Honestly, is there a Madonna song that doesn’t make you think about sex? No.  I filled out the sheet of paper with the miniature pencil provided in the binder of countless songs, walked through the crowed bar of punk rockers, goths scenesters and rockabilly chicks, and handed it to the woman running the stage.  Then I headed back to my booth, never taking my eyes off the gorgeous woman on stage whose voice was tugging at parts of me I didn’t even know I had.

Sipping on my cocktail, I watched her superstitiously from under my lashes as she finished to a healthy smattering of applause, certainly more than anyone else had received.  I watched her walk off the stage, PBR in hand. I watched as she was greeted by people on the way back to her table, new fans as impressed with her voice as I was.  I watched as she swung back a shot of whiskey, as easy as if it was a sip of water, and then settled in to watch the stage.

I’m not that girl, that girl who can flirt, that girl that can approach random people. I’m just me. I get by on my personality and quirkiness, and when that doesn’t lure them in, then I get by by going home alone and getting myself off.  I didn’t want that tonight.  I wanted her.  I was going to get her, damn it…I just didn’t know how.

The woman on stage called my name.  Slinging back the remains of my drink, mostly melted ice by this point, I slowly walked to the stage. I wasn’t sure if the best plan might not just be running for the door and flipping through my phone book looking for a booty call.  But it was too late now – eyes were on me as I walked up to the stage.  I made eye contact with her as I walked by her table, and she tipped her can towards me.  Could she smell my fear? Sense my lust? Or was she just being polite?

Climbing the steps, I grabbed the mic.  The intro bars of the song started.  I fidgeted on stage, unsure of what to do during the intro. I settled with closing my eyes and slightly swaying to the music until it was my turn to provide the entertainment to this crowd who didn’t really care what I sang or how well, as long as they were somewhere after me in the line up and their drinks were still flowing.  The first words appeared on the blue screen.

“Life is a mystery…” I sung into the mic, quietly, hesitating.

Some guy who’d had a few too many shouted “Louder!  We didn’t come here to watch a deer in the headlights.” Everyone laughed, but she didn’t.  She was looking at me with a speculative look on her face.  I took a deep breath, through the diaphragm, as we were always taught, and started singing again, this time, a little louder. I was still a little meek, still a little questioning, until I hit the chorus.

“When you call my name, it’s like little prayer, down on my knees, I want to take you there.” I dropped to my knees at the appropriate part in the song, and once again, made eye contact with the woman whose voice made me burn and freeze inside. She held my gaze throughout the rest of the song.  The song wasn’t for the aggressive men or the pretty women watching me through their beer goggles. I’d chosen it for her – I had wanted her to notice me, and here she was, her gaze burrowing into me as I sang to the best of my non-ability.  Oddly enough, my voice never wavered, although I’m sure I didn’t sound any good.  I made it through the song, and though I was sober after only one drink, I stumbled down the stairs.  As I headed back to my booth, the spell from the stage had been broken, my eyes following my shoes on the floor.

When I passed her table, avoiding her eyes, a hand reached out to stop me, and pulled me into her, close enough to feel her warmth against me.  Bringing her face ever closer to mine, so that our cheeks touched