Elust 86

(My Wheldrake’s recent post appears in this edition.)

Elust 86 Header
Photo courtesy of Modesty Ablaze

Welcome to Elust 86

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #86 Start with the rules, come back October 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!


~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

On Self-Objectification

Female Orgasms – Addressing Women’s Sexuality

Migraine – A Sexual Spiritual Explanation


~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Can You Train a Sub to Orgasm on Command?

Rupert Campbell-Black and me…


~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Yes I’m a Sexblogger and No I don’t care about your dick

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!


Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

BUTTER FOR LUBE… Salted or Unsalted?
KOTW:Static on the line
Control Queen
Well, That Didn’t Go According to Plan

Writing about Writing

A BDSM Vignette from Two Viewpoints

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Sex Negative

Erotic Fiction

The Cure

Erotic Non-Fiction

A Polyquad Squad Orgasm
Beautiful Birthday Fuck
Purpose of Tasks
Do You Trust Me
The meanings of “good girl”

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

How Long Is Enough
The Virgin. Unlocking Feminine Power.
The Other Day
Communicate! Communicate! Communicate!
addressing doubts one step at a time
How D/s has taught me to stick up for myself

Body Talk and Sexual Health

Against All Odds


Where I’m From



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A BDSM Vignette from Two Viewpoints


By the time they’d finished washing down pieces of Marion’s birthday cake with good Indonesian coffee, Paul was feeling surprisingly happy and relaxed. He’d hoped that his wife and mistress would want to do something kinky to him on her special day, and he’d been more than a little disappointed when she’d told him to get ready to host a quiet dinner with Brian and Eleanor, two long-time friends of hers that he knew only slightly. They were a retired military couple, a good two decades older than he and Marion, and he privately considered them stuffy and tiresome. Eleanor seemed to have something on her mind tonight, and was joining only half-heartedly in the conversation, but Brian was as animated and talkative as Paul had ever seen him. A quiet dinner in decent company wasn’t really so bad, and maybe Marion would still sink her claws into him after their guests had left.

The thought made him glance in his wife’s direction, but her chair was empty. She must have slipped off to the bathroom, or out to the patio for a quick smoke, while he’d been caught up in Brian’s story about visiting Hong Kong as a young man.

“I think it’s time,” Marion said from somewhere behind him, “for us to move on with our evening.”

Paul had no idea what she meant, but Brian and Eleanor both rose immediately to their feet. Eleanor gave him an enigmatic smile.

“You stand up too, Paul,” Brian said, his tone suddenly that of a man used to giving orders. The note of authority was so compelling that Paul shot up from the table immediately. Brian grabbed his wrists, pulling them together behind his back, and Eleanor reached into the purse she’d slung casually over the back of her chair and withdrew a pair of wicked-looking nipple clamps.

“What’s going on here?” Paul asked nervously, too taken aback to struggle or protest in stronger terms. “Are you two both… I mean, are you going to…”

Marion grabbed his hair, from behind, in a way that he recognised. “Shut the fuck up,” she said directly into his ear, in the crisp, precise voice that he’d learned to associate with her most sadistic moods. “All you need to know about this situation is that you are going to be Brian and Eleanor’s slave, as well as mine, for the rest of the night. Do anything they say, and submit to anything they do to you.”

Eleanor’s smile widened, and she began to slowly unbutton his shirt.



Marion’s slave and husband Paul was so endearingly predictable. Before her birthday he’d been excited as a puppy, obviously hoping for a kinky adventure, and he’d been crestfallen when she’d ordered him to prepare to host a dinner with her old friends Brian and Eleanor. Paul apparently thought of them as a couple of white-haired bores, and so far she’d been careful not to do anything to dispel that impression. Now, however, it was almost time for Paul to discover that there was more to Brian and Eleanor than met the eye. Eleanor was doing a very bad job of containing her impatience, barely talking and glancing hungrily in Paul’s direction every few minutes, but Brian seemed to be revelling in the business of putting Paul at ease. As they finished their coffee, Brian had Paul caught up in some story about the Far East, and Marion decided it was time to make her move. When Paul wasn’t looking, she slipped out of her chair and stepped behind him.

“I think it’s time,” she declared, “for us to move on with our evening.”

At that prearranged signal, Brian and Eleanor rose smoothly to their feet, and Eleanor gave Paul a weird smile. Marion regretted not being able to see Paul’s face, which was probably a mask of confusion.

“You stand up too, Paul,” Brian said crisply, in the commanding voice that he’d once told her dated back to his career as a military police officer. Nowadays that voice was part of what made him a truly intimidating dominant, and Marion wasn’t surprised when Paul instantly obeyed. Heat rose between her legs as Brian pulled Paul’s hands behind his back, just like they’d planned, and Eleanor eagerly fished her favourite nipple clamps out of the purse she’d strategically hung on the back of her chair.

“What’s going on here?” Paul blurted. “Are you two both… I mean, are you going to…” Her boy was floundering, and Marion decided to step in. She moved closer and grabbed his hair in a way that she knew would get his attention.

“Shut the fuck up,” she said into his ear with what she thought was about the right amount of menace. “All you need to know about this situation is that you are going to be Brian and Eleanor’s slave, as well as mine, for the rest of the night. Do anything they say, and submit to anything they do to you.”

That clearly worked for Eleanor. Her smile widened, and she began to slowly unbutton Paul’s shirt.


Which version of this brief vignette did you like better? They describe the same action, convey about the same information, and contain an equal number of words (424 in each case). However, the first is written from the viewpoint of Paul the male submissive, and the second from that of Marion the female dominant. I didn’t recruit Paul and Marion as first-person narrators, but I did give the reader access to Paul’s thoughts, perceptions and knowledge in the first version and to Marion’s in the second.

Before embarking on this exercise, I assumed that Paul’s viewpoint would turn out to be the more interesting and compelling. Perhaps I was a little biased in that judgement by my own identity as a male submissive, but I also had in mind the advantages of making the protagonist of any story somewhat vulnerable and denying him or her the knowledge of certain crucial facts. Submissives don’t normally encounter real danger to life and limb, but they do have adventures that test their resolve and endurance, and they often don’t know what their dominants have planned for them on any given day. In the first version of the vignette, the reader can vicariously share in Paul’s confusion and consternation when Brian and Eleanor move in on him, and easily imagine his reaction – perhaps a mixture of relief and trepidation? – when Marion reveals her plans for the evening. Submissives are underdogs and victims of circumstance, and those qualities make for an exciting main character. There’s a reason Lord of the Rings concentrates on Frodo’s perspective, rather than Sauron’s.

What I didn’t fully appreciate when I started, though, was that the dominant’s perspective could be equally fun in a somewhat different way. There’s no rule that says the reader needs immediate access to all the thoughts of a character whose viewpoint is being considered, so Marion’s plans for Paul and her knowledge of Brian and Eleanor’s dominant side can emerge gradually as the action develops. Instead of vicariously sharing Paul’s uncertainty, the reader gets to share her anticipation, while possibly feeling some sympathy for Paul as it becomes increasingly clear that the other three characters are preparing to make him their plaything. I’m tempted to conclude that hot kinky action can be fun from any viewpoint, and also that Lord of the Rings from Sauron’s perspective might actually have been a pretty interesting book.

Postscript: After reading my first draft of this post, My Lady ordered me to link to the following pieces by Xan West, one of her favourite authors, that discuss the dominant’s perspective in both reality and fiction: Kinky erotica from the top’s point of view and I’m Not Just Doing It for You. They’re both pretty good, but I’d particularly recommend the first one, which makes the excellent point that dominants can be more interesting as characters when they have some vulnerabilities of their own.

A Thing Explainer word checker

From the creator of the xkcd webcomic (and not kinky unless you make it so):

Want to try writing using only simple words? Here’s a writing checker you can use: xkcd.com/simplewriter. To help me write the words in my Up Goer Five picture, I taught my computer to watch my writing and tell me when one of the words I used wasn’t in the top ten hundred.…

Source: A Thing Explainer word checker


Or, you could use it in reverse and try to maximize the uncommon words.

Smashwords July Sale

The Smashwords July Summer/Winter Sale starts today and runs all month, with selected books discounted 25, 50, or 75 percent off. You can search by percent, length, and other filters at the top, along with genre filters on the sidebar.

Start here for books included in this sale. Stock up on those books you’ve been thinking about buying, and try a few new releases. My Make Mine to Go is 50% off and one of many titles from JMS Books.


Elust #82

My Wheldrake’s recent post appears in this month’s Elust — read the complete issue here:

Elust 82 Header
Photo courtesy of Teachers Have Sex

Welcome to Elust #82

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #83 Start with the rules, come back June 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!


~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Take Me

How Do I Love Thee:On Comparing Relationships

Asking all the questions…



~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Erotic Fiction: Fishnet Queen

I Manage My Expectations

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

Wanna Have Sex With Me? – Here’s how
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!


Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Maybe I’m not a pervert after all
Bad Excuses
Engaging with Sexuality: A Personal Perspecti
I wish there were more porn
Cock Size: Does it matter?
Blue is not a “boy color.”

Erotic Non-Fiction

Watching My Wife With Another Man Story
Afternoon Cunnilingus & Birthday Sofa Sex
Why You Should Shave Your Partner
Oct 2014 Session – Mistress Claire
Two Days Later
Roping a cougarling
Divining Rods
Dorabella’s pink-velvet spanner

Erotic Fiction

Puppy Love
Quick & Dirty
She Says My Voice Changes for Her
THE BLINDFOLD – fear of the unknown
U is for undress…
Stay Baby…Stay.
kink of the week–glasses

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Slutfest Reflection
Love and Fairness
V is for……..
My heart turns blacker: the new rules


Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Blast from the Fetish Video Past
The whole person approach to Submission
Down on my knees
Dominant Doppelgangers, Dominant Opposites
Four eyes
BDSM and Depression: Therapy or Self-Harm?


Eden, Revisited: A Lusty Limerick

Writing About Writing

Stepping Stones
Centering Disabled Characters in My Erotica


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Dominant Doppelgangers, Dominant Opposites

In an erotic story I’ll probably never find the time to write, the submissive protagonist – let’s call him, say, Rupert – will come across an ornate, obviously antique mirror in a neglected corner of a house he inherited from an eccentric aunt. Rupert will be contemplating his own reflection, thinking it looks wrong in some subtle way he can’t quite pinpoint, when the man on the other side of the glass will step casually out of the mirror and begin giving him commands. Subservient to his own long-suppressed dominant side, which the power of the mirror will have captured and imbued with physical reality, Rupert will bow his head and begin to obey without a word of argument. As he sheds his clothes and sinks to his knees in front of his new master, it will occur to him that his aunt used to spend surprising amounts of time behind closed doors in this same wing of the house, doing heaven knows what.


Like Lewis Carroll and many other writers, I find mirrors evocative, but my submissive side is also intrigued by the idea of being dominated by someone very like myself – if not a doppelganger out of a magic mirror, than another straight, white male academic on the verge of middle age. His background, experiences and sensibilities would all be similar to mine, except of course that he’d be dominant and sadistic rather than submissive and ambivalently masochistic. In some ways, all that common ground would be reassuring. My doppelganger and I would rarely misunderstand each other, and our shared attitudes and cultural reference points would give us plenty to talk about when he wasn’t actively bossing me around or standing over my naked, writhing body with riding crop in hand. Perhaps he’d share enough of my foibles and shortcomings that he wouldn’t be inclined to discipline me too harshly for them, and enough of my vices to be lenient about letting me partake. To the extant that humans naturally identify and sympathise with people similar to themselves, my dominant doppelganger might be a relatively gentle master, careful not to push too hard and quick to extend mercy.

When he did choose to get tough with me, though, or to indulge his sadistic side at my expense, he’d have a formidable hand to play. Our similarities would make it easy for him to get inside my head and push my buttons, and he’d have little trouble figuring out what rewards to offer when he wanted to motivate me and what deprivations and discomforts to impose when he wanted to torment or punish. He’d know just what to say and how to behave in order to keep me on my toes, lull me into complacency, put frenzied butterflies in my stomach, or elicit any number of other reactions. He’d be able to read me like an open book, play me like a fiddle, or reduce me to trembling submissive jelly any time he wanted. He’d know all about the kinds of suffering I could easily withstand, and also the kinds I couldn’t. The other side of that coin is that I’d also have some intuitive understanding of how to push his buttons, which might be useful when I wanted to beg a favour or plead for lenience. But given the power imbalance between dominant and submissive, I expect the advantages of our mutual familiarity would lie mostly on his end of the whip.


Another kind of magic mirror might summon up a dominant who was the unsuspecting victim’s polar opposite, a mysterious figure that insinuated itself like a ghost into the background of the reflected image but then announced its all-too-real physical presence by tapping the victim sharply on the shoulder and issuing some first instructions in a firm, authoritarian voice. In my case this kind of mirror-dominant would have to be a woman, to contrast with me as much as possible, and she’d have to be rather old or rather young (the former, to my way of thinking, would mesh more easily with her authority, but I have to admit it would be interesting to take orders from a woman who was barely legal). She’d be from a different culture and country, perhaps from the other side of the world, and her upbringing and perspective would be vastly divergent from my own. My values, loyalties and deepest ideals would seem ludicrous to her, possibly even incomprehensible. Hers might strike me about the same way, if I dared to judge.

Such a dominant would probably have a little more difficulty figuring me out than the doppelganger from the first kind of magic mirror. She’d know that she could make me suffer by beating or starving me, because those things are pretty much human universals, and she’d probably understand intuitively that she could reward or indulge me with orgasms, alcohol, free time, or a few other obvious pleasures. The more nuanced and individual aspects of my personality, though, might take her a good while to understand and work out how to manipulate.

Nevertheless, she probably would learn all about me in time, given a touch of intelligence, mental flexibility and motivation. I’d be obliged to answer any questions she might think to ask, and of course she could experiment with different rules, regimens, torments and communication styles until she figured out how to make me respond in the ways she found most pleasing and advantageous. Meanwhile, I’d be in the hands of a dominant who regarded me as a barbarian, a misguided fool, a silly young boy or deluded old man, perhaps even a natural enemy. I couldn’t expect much in the way of empathy, sympathy or even understanding. Rather than enjoying relatively comfortable interaction with someone I saw eye-to-eye with, I’d find myself dealing with a taskmistress who had little reason to think of me as a reasonable human being. Equally, I’d have to get used to serving and obeying a dominant whose priorities and preferences seemed almost alien, and whose wishes were difficult to anticipate. Perhaps I’d slowly develop a better grasp of what made her tick, and perhaps she’d eventually come to appreciate and value me, but on the whole I think she’d seem enigmatic and inhuman till death (or some other eventuality) did us part. When I really think about it, that sort of dominant seems much more intimidating – and therefore, I must admit, more thrilling to my submissive side – than a doppelganger could ever be.


The one major spanner in the works of that analysis, though, is the issue of gender. To a point, I think gender would work like anything else – age, national origin, basic philosophical commitments – in that similarity and difference would each have their hazards and their compensating silver linings. A male dominant would find my body and my sexuality to be familiar territory, and could use that knowledge against me in all kinds of ways. If a male dominant either caressed my balls or gave them a smack, he’d have a pretty good idea of what kind of sensation I’d experience as a result, and if he imposed a period of chastity then he’d know what sort of frustration and discomfort he was condemning me to. On the bright side, perhaps he’d be relatively permissive about “guy things” like masturbation, pornography and alcohol consumption, since they’d probably be as basic to his life as they are to mine. A woman might be stricter on those fronts, and less forgiving of lapses, but she’d probably also have a harder time working out how to exploit my body’s specifically male vulnerabilities and how she could make use of my sexual needs to control, reward and punish me.

In the special case of gender, though, there are important complications, some of which are a product of my fundamental heterosexuality. When I’m being worked over by a woman, the eroticism engendered by my helplessness and suffering coexists with the straightforward sexiness that flows from her proximity. Even if I’m hooded or blindfolded so that I can’t steal glances, I can still appreciate her scent, her voice, the intimacy of her hands on my body. All those things tend to make the experience seem softer and less oppressive, and give me something to think about besides pain and fear. If the person holding the flogger is a man, on the other hand, proximity and intimacy are if anything a bit distasteful, just one more small torment to be endured. The whole interaction ends up feeling starker and harsher, which is exciting but also somewhat unnerving.

Quite apart from my lack of sexual attraction to dominant men, I find them especially daunting because I simply perceive them as more imposing in some subtle way than their female equivalents. It’s deeply ironic, considering how much I appreciate female dominance and strong women in general, but there’s an unreconstructed circuit buried somewhere in the depths of my brain that associates authority and toughness – not to mention lust and sadism, and the rougher, more dramatic side of life in general – with masculinity. Fantasising about female tyrants who delight in having trembling victims of both sexes hauled off to dark dungeons and well-stocked torture chambers somehow doesn’t stop me from instinctively expecting real women to be gentler than men, and more inclined to mercy and sympathy. My polar opposite might be more frightening than my doppelganger in most respects, but her femaleness would at least make submission to her feel a little safer and sexier.


In fact, one reason I find sadistic female dominants so compelling is precisely because their very existence flies in the face of the stereotypes about feminine kindness and compassion that cast an unwanted shadow over my perceptions. I’m practically awestruck by My Lady’s penchant for inflicting pain and other forms of suffering on willing victims like myself, and almost equally appreciative of her capacity for being hard with me – setting firm rules, holding me accountable, unapologetically ordering me to do things that please and benefit her regardless of how I might feel about them. To be fair, she’s often willing to be a bit flexible, and she makes allowances for the fact that I’m only human and sometimes mess up or find myself hopelessly overcommitted. In a lot of ways, despite the difference in gender, she’s more of a doppelganger than a polar opposite; My Lady and I are both thoughtful, rather introverted people, in love with the written word and prone to analysing things to death before making up our minds about them. However, the rapport and mutual understanding that exist between us don’t seem to soften her treatment of her boy, which is all to the good considering that softness is the last thing I need or want from her. Perhaps another few years of her firm hand and stinging cane will even erase the insidious tendency to link femaleness to fuzzy pink sweetness that I’ve either absorbed from the surrounding culture or inherited as evolutionary baggage. I’ve already learned a healthy respect for her authority and a thoroughly erotic fear of her flights of sadism, but for the moment I can’t help finding her enthusiasm for witnessing BDSM action (and, gulp, sex) between dominant and submissive men to be one of the most fear-inducing things about her. If my doppelganger ever did step out of a magic mirror, blazing with sadistic intensity and eager to get his hands on my subservient body, she’d probably hand me over to him in a second – as long as she got to stick around and watch the show.

Read an ebook week – sale at Smashwords

Participating ebooks are 25%-100% off the regular price March 6-12.

Buy my Make Mine to Go  75% off here

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