The One And Only Way…

Every now and then I stumble across one of those articles/posts that falls into the:

Real Doms

and:

You can’t be Dominant if you don’t

categories. These kinds of articles really piss me off.

Why?

Because they are a total load of shite!

It’s bad enough trying to kinksplain D/s to a vanilla audience but when the shite is being spouted by individuals pertaining to be in the D/s community, it just makes things worse.

D/s relationships are not about pain or punishment, they are not about forcing someone else to your will, they are not about power and control and exploitation.

Well, OK, that’s not strictly true. D/s relationships can be about those things if that is dynamic of a particular relationship. If it is, and it works, and the individuals are happy with it, then great. It can be about those things, but it doesn’t have to be.

So here’s the thing, as I see it, a D/s relationship is, first and foremost, a relationship. Every relationship is as unique as the people who live within it. Every relationship has its own dynamic, its own set of “rules” that make it work. Possibly even more so than is the case in purely vanilla relationships, trust, respect and honesty are the fundamental keystones and foundations of a D/s relationship. A Dom is not a Dom because they beat/punish/discipline their submissive. They are a Dom because they nurture and protect, guide and support their submissive. If within the context of that relationship this is demonstrated and achieved through spankings and/or other forms of discipline, then so be it. It works, so great.

Similarly, a sub isn’t a sub because they have no will of their own or are weak. Again, this may be how it plays out within a particular dynamic of a particular relationship, but it doesn’t mean it applies universally.

Even within the confines of one relationship, what was right yesterday, may not be appropriate today and what works today may, for a myriad of reasons, by off limits tomorrow.

D/s relationships have their issues and unforeseen circumstances just like any other relationship and, fundamentally, this is because they are just another relationship.

Anyone who says that “A Dom must do so and so” or “You can’t be a Dom if you don’t do such and such” or “If you are a sub, you must perform whatever” is basically talking out of their arse.  There is no one right way to do D/s just as there is no one right way to do any relationship. The fundamental essential foundations of any relationship are pretty much the same, regardless of the flavour.

If there is to be only one right way it is, quite simply, whatever way is right for you. A Dom doesn’t have to use their belt or a cane and a sub doesn’t have to be humiliated or locked up in a cage. If that’s what works for you, that’s fantastic, keep doing it and don’t let anyone else tell you that you are wrong. If it isn’t your thing, don’t feel that it should be because some “know it all” says you should. Do what is right for you because, ultimately, it’s nobody else’s business what  you and your partner(s) get up to within the context of the relationship you share with them.

ZeN

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Comparative Reality

Wicked WednesdayWhere does truth end and fiction begin?

I read this post  by the wonderful Girl on The Net recently, and if you haven’t read it, I can’t recommend strongly enough that you do so.

No.

Seriously.

Stop reading this and go and read her post, then if you can be arsed, you can come back here and finish reading this drivel.

Now, as anyone who follows her knows, GoTN. unlike me, is a woman and she writes freely about her sex life. If you have now read the post, you will have got the fact that while she writes honestly, she may, sometimes inadvertently, sometimes deliberately, change certain things and/or leave certain details out.  Does that make what she writes any less true? I don’t think so. And, after all, if she hadn’t told us, we’d all be none the wiser.

Now me, on the other hand, I dress things up. Yes, I can happily ramble on giving you my opinions (whether you want them or not) on everything from pubic hair, to why I enjoy cunnilingus, to why I will never give you a mark out of 10 for your blow-job skills, but when it comes to actual sex; actual people actually fucking, I mostly resort to writing fiction.

Now, I do happen to say on my stories site:

My writing is a mixture of experience and imagination in varying proportions.

And this is true. Well, kind of…

Some of my stories actually do correspond pretty closely to actual events. In others, the sex may be based on an actual shag, but I’ve changed the setting or the circumstances that led to it. In others, the sex scenes may be a distillation of the memories of a number of different shags, possibly with different partners, but I have chosen to weave them into one story, one scene.

And, of course, because it’s fiction, no one ever breaks wind when they roll over, the protagonists never spend 5 minutes swearing at each other because her hair has caught in his watch strap, no one ever accidentally gets elbowed or kneed somewhere painful as positions are changed, or gets a dead arm from lying in one position for too long supporting the weight of both partners.

In fiction, even when based on reality, the sex is idealised.

Some sex writers may include such details when regaling us with their real life exploits and adventures. GoTN is wonderfully frank in her writing, and does sometime choose to share snippets of such sex “fails” with us; but if she never alluded to them, would that make her “stories” any less true? In my opinion no. It might make them slightly less funny on occasion, but it doesn’t change the underlying event, in the same way that watching the Match Of The Day highlights doesn’t change the final score.

So, “truth” is true, and fiction can contain truth even when it’s not entirely true. Is one form of writing better than the other? I don’t think so. Even when not related to sex, I enjoy reading non-fiction as much as I enjoy reading fiction. It’s all down to the taste of the reader and the style (or lack thereof in the case of your truly) of the writer.

The truth can sometimes be stranger than fiction, but it can also be closely intertwined with it too.

ZeN

PS: The book that inspired this was, of course “How a Bad Girl Fell In Love” by none other than Girl on the Net herself.

Time & Distance

Wicked WednesdayIt starts, as it so often does, with an early morning text message. It’s not even a particularly naughty one; often no more than a “Good morning” or “Did you sleep well?” The scene, however, is already set.

As the morning progresses, the level of suggestion in the exchanged messages deepen.  Selected pins from Pinterest are used to convey desire, to express what is being felt, to emphasis what we would do if we weren’t miles apart, if the hours instantly passed and we were together.

The ante is upped as the quotes make way for the images from Tumblr; each one that little bit more explicit, more graphic than the last, each one a statement of intent.

As the day progresses we tease and arouse and seduce each other with words and images. She knows I long to taste her, to lick her and feast on her until she cums hard on the tip of my tongue. I know she wants to take me in her mouth, to lick and suck that part of me that she has made so hard.

We both know what we want and need, and that is each other; skin against skin, our lips pressed together, me inside her, our bodies joined.

As the clock ticks down the minutes of the last hour of separation we enter the calm before the storm.

My phone flashes. “I’m home” it reads.

“On my way” I reply.

“Let yourself in, I’m waiting for you…”

ZeN

Talking Dirty

#MasturbationMondayTRIGGER WARNING: This post will probably make me sound like a massive bellend/pious twat.

Filthy…

Dirty…

Illicit…

Sinful…

Wicked…

Bad…

All words that are frequently used to describe aspects of sex. Also words that are used in the names of some of my favourite blogs and blogging memes; blogs and memes that promote body/image/sex positivity.

Yet, despite all the good things about these, I have one niggling problem them; the names.

Now, I must emphasise that I am not having a go at the bloggers and writers involved. The problem isn’t with their blogs, or what they write, or the photos they post. After all, I participate in these memes, posting both my writing and photos. My problem is with the language. Not the language used by my fellow bloggers/writers you understand, just the language that has grown up around sex itself.

Now, when it comes to writing about sex, I am as “guilty” as everyone else; I describe it as dirty/filthy/naughty/etc. The problem is, the negative connotations of these words goes against the sex positive message we try to put forward. Somehow, while on the one hand seeming entirely apt, they also reinforce the message that there is something wrong with sex; that somehow we should feel shame for enjoying it and the pleasure it brings us.

And yet…

And yet, the use of such words is partially what makes it so much fun; it makes it seem like we’re doing something we really shouldn’t. Which is, of course bollocks. Of course we should be doing it. If we didn’t, none of us would be here to discuss it. And since we should be doing it, it only seems right that we should also enjoy it.

On the one hand it is great that the sex positive community is attempting to “reclaim” these words and make them positive but, on the other hand, are we not further entrenching the idea of “wrongness” about sex by doing so.

It’s a quandary. No less so because there are no “positive” words in our language that have the same delicious (ok, so there’s one) feel to them when describing the act. There is something primal and satisfying about words such as fuck, cock, cunt; it is their power to shock that illicits such strong emotions and feelings, and what would sex be without those.

So we are stuck with the bizarre juxtaposition that, while proclaiming to the world that sex is good, wholesome, healthy, natural fun, we do so by describing it as dirty, filthy, naughty, bad.

This is a bit of a rambling diatribe. I wish I had a satisfying conclusion (pun intended) to raise. I wish I didn’t sound like a complete berk. Are we right to be wrong, or is wrong being right? I don’t know, I really don’t.

It’s a contradiction, and one that everyone who writes positively about sex faces, but it’s the use of such language that makes our particular genre (and indeed, the act itself) so enjoyable.

What can I say? Sometimes humans baffle me.

ZeN

In The Mind

#MasturbationMondayTo me, the question as to which is the most important sexual organ is, if you’ll pardon the mixed oxymoron, a no-brainer.  It is the mind that interprets the stimuli received by our senses, it is the mind that generates desire. It is our mind that creates the eroticism of words and images, and it is our mind that dictates our responses. Different parts of my body are assigned different tasks; my lips are assigned the task of kissing you, my tongue gets then task of licking you, my fingers get the job of caressing you and my cock gets given responsibility for fucking you. It is, however, my mind that is control of each action; orchestrating and coordinating the sensual whole.

I will admit that I used to use contact/hook-up sites (Twitter isn’t really one of those, now, is it?). The biggest and most common complaint from women using these sites was about the lack of originality/imagination shown by the male users. All too often, it seems, “communication” from us men was a picture of our cock and a well thought out, highly eloquent one-liner, that went along the lines of: “hey babe, wanna fuk u.” Now, I am sure there are some women out there who appreciate this direct approach, but for the most part, given that these sites are a buyer’s market, with women very much the “buyers”, most, I think, preferred a little more effort than simply stating the blindingly obvious, i.e. that we wanted to fuck. There was, after all, a bit of a clue in the nature of the sites we were using.

Now for me, the whole “stimulate her mind and her body will follow” philosophy was part of the reason I started writing erotic fiction. It was a way of demonstrating that I am articulate, imaginative and, in a way, it gives a certain insight into the kind of things, sexually, that I enjoy.  In the context of hook-up sites, at some point during the correspondence, assuming I’d piqued their initial interest by not leading with my cock and by stringing a couple of paragraphs together, I could ask if they liked such stories and, if the answer was yes, point them in the direction of my site (well, it’s predecessor to be strictly accurate).

Surprisingly (or not), my approach did sometimes succeed. I’m not saying it was my writing that got me laid, but it was the fact that I’d taken the time to think about the person I was contacting, show that I’d taken an interest in what they had to say, and shown that I could think coherently about more than what was (if all went well) the desired and pleasurable (for her as well as me, I hope) endgame.

Mental stimulation, whilst vital in the initial making an impression stages, is no less important when you are in a relationship.  For me, part of foreplay is the drawn out flirting/sexting that goes on between us when we are not together.  This usually starts pretty much after we have seen each other, and continues almost right up until the moment we are next together. Time is often short, and so much of the “preparation” is done before we even see each other.

Being able to think sexy, and, more importantly, making the other person think sexy is, for me at least, a key part of the sex we have. Yes, it can lead to frustration, but it is a lot of fun being to turn someone on when you aren’t in their presence, and the frustration can be relieved when you do finally see each other. There is something wonderful about being able to build and maintain arousal and desire over a number of hours, days, even weeks if required, using just words from your imagination, telling her exactly what I intend to do, and what I want her to do. Knowing that she is wet and aching for me from just the words I have sent her, telling her of my hunger for her is, of itself, hugely arousing.

It is the equivalent  of edging her mind with mine.

So my advice, had I been inclined to give it to those “Ugh! Wanna Fuk!” guys, and thus increase the competition for the more articulate out there, would have been, if you really want to get into her knickers, you should try getting into her mind first.

ZeN

Nowhere To Hide

I am completely open about my illness. It is a part of me and, much as I would rather it were otherwise, it has played a major part in making me the person I am. It is such an ingrained part of me that I cannot even begin to imagine what life without it would be like. It never lets me forget. Even in those periods where I have the illusion of having it under some sort of control, when I am free from the worst symptoms, it is always there, lurking in the background, reminding me that it can return, without any warning at a time of its choosing.

Life is a daily battle. It’s a battle where the only “victory” to be had is to stave off total surrender and defeat. I know it’s a battle I can never win; the very best I can hope for is some soul-sapping rear-guard action – retreat, regroup, then retreat again.

It is tiring. Not just a physical tiredness, but an emotional tiredness, a spiritual tiredness; a tiredness that burrows its way into your very core.

There is no escape, nowhere to hide. There can be no hiding from your own mind. You are battling an enemy that knows everything about you, that knows your every weakness and how to exploit them. It’s an enemy that intimately knows every flaw in your character and can use them against you.

The darkness is real. You turn away from those who care about you because you are a burden and they deserve better than to have to put up with you.

At its worst, it is all-consuming; it’s not that you have depression, it is that you ARE depressed – depression has you. It becomes a whole body illness; physical as well as mental.

In my case, I find it hard to sleep, I lose my appetite, I lose my libido, I suffer headaches. In the worst cases, it has been known to manifest itself by giving me dental abscesses and then there are the violent tremors that afflict my right arm.

When the tsunami of depression hits, there is nothing really that can be done other than just go where it takes you. Trying to defy it is futile. Fighting it simply wears you down faster.

And that’s where I am just now. I am in the darkness. I am still falling. Getting to the end of each day doesn’t even feel like a win, it is just a statement of the fact that I am still here, and tomorrow the onslaught will begin again.

Every day, every hour, every moment is a battle in this on-going civil war of attrition inside my mind.

Respite is scarce. There is nowhere to hide from yourself.

ZeN

Private Parts

#MasturbationMondayAs anyone who writes about sex, or pens erotic stories will know, euphemisms abound. The terms we use to describe sexual acts and the erogenous zones of our bodies are too numerous to list. If you ever get stuck, I do recommend this particular post.

For the purposes of this post, I am concentrating on the names that we give to those intimate bits of our own and, where relevant, partner’s bodies. Personally, when it comes to the words I use for the various naughty bits of the human anatomy, I find a lot depends on the context.

So, starting with my own particulars…

Generally, my penis is my penis. I will sometimes, in the context of a photo, refer to it as my cock or dick, but by and large (cue childish sniggering), it’s my penis. What my partner calls it, is entirely up to them. If they wish to feel my cock, throbbing manhood, or other such ego-stroking term inside them, then I’m happy to oblige. I’ve commented on any number of occasions that I find the male reproductive organ faintly humorous, so I’m not going to get all angsty if the woman I’m with comes up with some joking term of endearment for it. So long as she it and she likes what I’m doing with it, and she is complimentary, she can call my tally-whacker whatever the hell she wants.

In the context of my writing, I tend to use “cock”. I simply prefer it to “dick” or “prick”. I will differentiate between the shaft and the head where it seems appropriate to do so. I will occasionally use words like “member” or “pole” etc., just for the sake of variety, but in the main, “cock” is my go to word of choice.

Now, lady-bits…

I’ve written before about the plethora of terms for the female erogenous zones; and again, context is key. When I’m with a woman, I generally use the language that she herself prefers to use. Some women have tits (not really a fan, but hey-ho), some have boobs; some women have a pussy (again, not my favourite), others have a cunt. Really, it depends on her chosen term for those bits of her body.

If I’m having a general discussion on the subject with someone (most usually a woman) I tend to use boobs/breasts and cunt/vagina, but again, I try to be sensitive to the other person’s sensibilities.

In my writing, if I’m being descriptive I would usually make a reference to the female character’s breasts (e.g. she had small/large/perky/full/firm breasts). For a woman’s genitalia, I tend to use cunt, but sometimes I will use sex; sometimes I will differentiate and refer to specific parts such as labia or clit.  When writing dialogue, I tend to try and reflect the fact that women use different names, so one female character might want her tits played with and her pussy fucked, whereas another might prefer her boobs to be caressed and her cunt filled. A lot depends on the coarseness  of the sex being written about and the level of detail I’m describing. Also, again, variation stops things getting repetitive so nothing is set in stone.

There are lots of words that can be used, and everyone has their own preferences. Ultimately, while the words used for those bits might not please everyone, what’s much more important is the way in which those bits are used and the enjoyment such use evokes.

ZeN

Spanking

It’s not just about the pain that it inflicts on the receiver; although that can be a big part of it sometimes, it is about so many other things.

Firstly, it’s about trust. It’s the trust that the receiver has in you, knowing that you are going to cause pain, but trusting you to keep it to what is acceptable.

It’s about exploring boundaries. Linked in with the trust mentioned above, there is the exploration of limits, of taking things that little bit further, of pushing the person on the receiving end to take that little bit more and, for them, trying to determine their own levels of endurance.

It’s about the senses. There is something animal, something primal about the sound of skin striking skin. There is something about that particular sound of hand coming into contact with buttock that has an electric feel about it; it echoes and reverberates in a way that is uniquely alone. There are the moans and cries of the receiver as the pain and the heat grow with each contact, the sheer animal nature of the other person’s response to pain. And then of course there is the wonder of the skin changing colour; from unblemished, through deepening shades of pink, to a fiery crimson glow. The receiver’s skin, a canvass on which I display my art.

It’s about caring and respect. No spanking should ever go unappreciated. The surrender implicit in the other person allowing me to subject them to such attentions should always be recognised, appreciated and cherished.

It’s very easy to get wrapped up in the physical aspect of spanking that, to the uninitiated, it is sometimes easy to miss the deeply sensual and emotional elements that go along with the act. Inflicting/enduring pain is, of course, a very obvious and visible part of the experience but, just like an iceberg, it is the elements that can’t be seen because they are below the surface, the feelings, the emotions, that go so much deeper.

ZeN

The Trouble With “Lady Parts”

Wicked WednesdayI have a problem with “lady parts”.  Not the actual parts themselves, of which I am particularly fond; more the fact that you lot have so bloody many of them.

Now, don’t get me wrong; I love each and every one of them. I love they way you react when I touch, kiss, lick and fuck them. It’s just that, as a “writer“, trying to describe them is a nightmare.

We guys are pretty simple. On our chests, we have nipples; that’s pretty much it. You lot though… I mean yes, you have nipples and they respond in various wonderfully delightful ways, but you also have boobs.  Now I’m certainly not knocking your knockers; anyone who knows me knows how much I love them, but when it comes to writing they are another bit (or is that bits?) that have to be considered. Part of the biggest problem is what to actually call them? Boobs, tits, breasts, norks, knockers, funbags (OK, so I have never, ever used the term funbags in erotica); you get my drift… And if that weren’t bad enough, don’t even get me started on your areolae. I mean, why do you even have them?  What’s wrong with just having nipples? Isn’t it enough that you already have two erogenous areas on either side of your chest without adding a third? Isn’t that just being greedy?

Anyway, moving briskly on, or down, as is more appropriate. And let’s face it, we do like to go down…

Again, the male sexual anatomy is pretty basic. We have cocks and we have balls. Occasionally you may feel the need to differentiate between the shaft and the head of our cocks; sometimes you may want to draw attention to the scrotum rather than what it contains. By and large however, that’s it: cock, balls, and occasionally sac.

With you ladies on the other hand, it’s a whole different ball-game (or should that be labia-game, or maybe clit-game?).

Now, despite what certain women’s magazines would have us believe, I suspect most of us guys are at least passingly acquainted with your clitoris (some more so than others, I will admit). We know you have a vagina. We are familiar with your labia (both majora and minora). The vulva leaves us a little confused. Is it a specific part in its own right, or is it a term for the whole general area? Yes, yes, I know what it actually is, but I’m just emphasising the point. To be honest, in much the same way that, in my writing, I tend to neglect areolae (although I would never neglect them in the flesh, I hasten to add), I tend to gloss over vulvae too (that’s really not as filthy as it sounds, believe me).

Euphemisms don’t actually help; although they do provide a certain concealment of ignorance. I can throw in the word “cunt” or “pussy” but, depending on the context, that in itself can mean different things. If I put my cock in your cunt, then I’m clearly talking about your vagina. If I’m admiring your neatly trimmed pussy, I’m talking about your pubis (I’d almost forgotten about that one), or possibly your vulva, or maybe both.

And you wonder why us guys find you so confusing sometimes… It’s almost as if we are strangers in a strange land.

Personally, I think I’ll just stick to enjoying them for the effects my attentions cause and not get hung up on the Latin.

ZeN

White Lines

#MasturbationMondayIf porn is to be believed, the cumshot is the absolute epitome of the male climax, the Crème de la Crème of the male sexual experience. It seems we men are incapable of achieving orgasm inside the body of a woman. We just can’t help ourselves, it seems; as soon as we reach the point of no return, we simply have to whip our cocks out of whatever hole they have been pounding, and deposit our load all over the face, neck, boobs, tummy, arse of the object of our carnal desires.

Sometimes, I think the whole “mainstream” porn industry is some sort of advert for the Catholic Church’s Family Planning Unit. Cue:

“Every sperm is sacred, every sperm is great. If a sperm gets wasted, God gets quite irate…”

Given that there are around 8 billion of us on this planet, it certainly highlights the inadequacy of coitus interruptus as a form of contraception; but, I digress…

Now here’s the rub (pun possibly intended); when it comes to shooting my load, I actually like to be directed by the recipient of it. If she wants me to cum hard inside her, then that’s what I’ll do. If she wants me to unload in her mouth, then I’m up for that. If she wants me to erupt all over her an then rub it in, then I will happily oblige. If she wants some combination of all of the above, I’ll try my best but I can’t promise. It may require more than one shot at it…

Actually as an aside, and as someone who believes in safe sex, the majority of my sexual relationships, have been  what you could call “condom relationships”, so, with very few exceptions, cumming inside her actually involves cumming inside the condom, but that’s a minor technical point.

There is,in my opinion, something incredibly hot in seeing my lover streaked with my cum; it adds a particular stamp to the proceedings. I’ve never been with someone who wanted me to give them a facial, but any number of women that I’ve “entertained” have enjoyed me shooting forth over their boobs.

As Girl on the Net said in her post, I like to ask the woman where she wants it. I also love it when the woman chooses, completely unsolicited, to tell me where she wants me to cum. One of the hottest experiences I have ever had is when the woman I was with took me to the edge with her mouth, wanked me off over her boobs, then asked me to rub it in while I ate her out. For some strange reason, that got me hard again very quickly. There is something insanely hot about seeing her lying there with a dreamy well fucked contentedness on her face, wearing the mark of our passion proudly on her skin.

That said, the visual aesthetics of her wearing my load on her boobs, seeing it dribble from her cunt, or watching her lick it from her lips are all visual, post-climactic treats. At the point of orgasm, I’m not really caring about such niceties; if I’m concentrating on anything at all during those few moments of release it is on sensations of said release alone, not where it is ending up.

Do I have any preference as to the ending? Simple answer: no, not really. Whilst ejaculation isn’t something I can take absolutely 100% as a given, it happens more often than not. When it happens, it’s the act of release that brings pleasure.

So, with that in mind,  for me, the best place to cum is wherever she wants me to…

ZeN