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Morpheous Bondage Extravaganza!

If you’re into watching bondage, or into watching people being very strange in public, tune in to Morpheous Bondage Extravaganza’s live feed at http://mbeworldwide.com Saturday night! I’ll be rope bottoming at 8:15, 11:30, and 3:15 Eastern Standard Time as IPCookieMonster. I promise I’ll be sexy and pretty for the camera. I’ll also try to write a full report upon my return!

Polyamorous Fluid-Bound Contract

People often wonder how the hell poly people manage that sticky business of fluids. A couple of years ago, my partners and I decided to create an official contract so that we could be comfortable being “fluid-bound” with one another–meaning that we were going to stop using condoms with each other. Since I figured a lot of other people could use a model for creating those sorts of contracts for themselves, I decided to post ours here.

  • The “polycule” defined here consists of a fluid-bound group of [partners list].
  • For the purposes described here, “fluid-bonding” includes functionally all bodily fluids, both sexual and non-sexual.
  • All anal and vaginal intercourse outside the polycule should be protected with barriers.
  • All members of the polycule should keep an updated list of people outside of the polycule that they define as “current partners” in a shared google document.
  • All members of the polycule should email the shared google group whenever they have anything that could reasonably be defined as sex with someone who is not on their list of “current partners” or in the polycule.
  • Any sexual partners of anyone outside the polycule should be aware that anyone within it might ask them about their current testing status and their current partners. And they should be happy about this because it means we value each others’ safety!
  • If a condom breaks or goes amiss during intercourse with anyone outside the polycule, it should be immediately reported to all members of the polycule, as should the outside partner’s current testing status, so that subsequent fluid-bonding can be re-evaluated.
  • If an unintentional blood-based fluid-exchange occurs (mainly from needles), it should be immediately reported to all members of the polycule for subsequent fluid-bonding re-evaluation.
  • The polycule will try to schedule a once-a-month group processing session. If there is nothing to discuss, then we will try to watch a movie together. All processing sessions are to conclude in sex.
  • This polycule is not defined as “polyfidelitous”; however, there is an expectation that members will be limiting intercourse with people outside the polycule.
  • Members are expected to get screened for STI’s at least once every six months and to check on the testing statuses of any partners outside the polycule.
  • This agreement will be re-evaluated and re-negotiated after [date], pending the preferences of all involved, with the default assumption that it will dissolve at that time.

For My Husband on Our Tenth Wedding Anniversary

Our culture has a terrible habit of thinking that a relationship is only successful if the couple stays together until they die. You and I have said that we think we’re entitled to one successful relationship at least every 5 good years. That means we’ve had 3 good relationships together so far, with 1 of them as a pair of kids dating, 1 as a pretty normally married young adult couple, and 1 of them as a zanily married not-very-grown-up couple. I love the life we have built together, and I thank the gods constantly for the blessing you have been in my life. I hope that I am fortunate enough to have a lot more successful relationships with you; I certainly intend to. I don’t really like the idea of being old, but I hope with all my heart that if the gods are kind enough to let me grow old with you, we’ll be the crotchety old people shocking everyone else with the indecent amounts of fun we have. I am a better person because of who you are and what you bring to my life. I know of no better way to say “I love you” than that.

I didn’t believe in marriage when I met you, and I still have a lot of doubts about the institution as a whole. But I believe in the life we have made together, eccentric as it is.

Happy 10th anniversary, husband. May our very different gods continue to compromise and bless our peculiar union.

I love you.

“Does This Look Sexual to You?”

In one of the final scenes of the classic kinky rom com Secretary, Maggie Gyllenhaal’s character tries to prove herself to the man she wants to become her Dom by remaining seated and unmoving for… a really long time. She’s haunted by various hallucinations while she sits there, one of whom asks, “Lee, are you doing something sexual right now?” Fiercely, she responds, “Does this look sexual to you?!” The question is left rhetorical in the film, and I’ve never been satisfied with my own answer to it. She’s sitting, fully dressed in her wedding dress, swaying with exhaustion, and the film even shows her peeing herself at one point. But my gut response to her question has always been an uncomfortable and unsatisfying, “Well, maybe-sort-of-kind-of-a-little-yeah.” I found the question so thought-provoking that I made it one of my research questions for my project on BDSM.  I also meandered around the question a bit recently when I was interviewed by The People of Kink

But this post isn’t about other people, or what BDSM means to other people, or how different BDSM microcultures construct sex and sexuality. I just spent the last month frantically assembling that shit. This post is about me, dammit. Because the whole time I was putting that darned presentation together, I kept asking myself how would I answer the question–is BDSM/kink sexual/about sex–if I interviewed myself. And this post is what I would say.

When I first entered the Scene several years ago, it never in a million years crossed my mind that kink could be anything other than sexual. At that point, kink was all about sex for me: what could make me cum harder, what could make my partners cum harder, what could make them aroused and wanting to fuck me? Whether playing with violet wands, getting poked with needles, getting my clothes cut off with knives, or scratching people with my claws: it was really all about sex for me. The first time I got suspended in rope, I got fucked with a glass dildo; the third time I got suspended, it was so I could fuck a girl in the air. I really had no idea there were kink events that forbade sex, and I couldn’t really wrap my brain around the idea that there were BDSM activities that people engaged in for reasons other than sex. Once I started talking to people who claimed that they engaged in BDSM for non-sexual reasons, my brain tended to give them patronizing looks even as the rest of me sometimes tried to hang on to a poker face. Why the fuck were they doing this shit if not for sex?

Then one night I flogged a guy I wasn’t attracted to just because my fingers were itching to beat the crap out of someone. It was sexy to hurt someone like that, but I don’t know that I could really call it sexual. It made me excited, but I couldn’t really say that it made my clit hard. Pretty much the same thing happened a few weeks later when I got tied up in a really uncomfortable position for the first time: it was sexy and fun and exciting, but I couldn’t really say it got me hard. In both cases, the exhiliration I experienced wasn’t that different from doing other things that I find really sexy that are physically challenging, like poledancing or dancing with fire. The analogy is extremely apt for me: I’ve done competitive poledancing, which didn’t get my clit hard at all–it’s art and an athletic competition; it’s sensual and fun, but that’s it. But I’ve poledanced at kink events, and it’s an entirely different experience that leaves my pussy smelling like I’ve just been fucked. Ditto with firedancing. For both poledancing and firedancing, I will readily admit that I’ve jerked off fantasizing about doing those things in specific contexts, but they certainly aren’t inherently sexual. And I’ve learned to think of a lot of kink activities the same way.

Conversely, I’ve done scenes that I didn’t expect to get my clit hard that did. One of the first fetish photography shoots I did was mostly just me, naked, doing sensual and sexy things that I enjoy for three enthusiastic photographers. Totally unattracted to anyone there, I was startled when I got dressed later and realized that I smelled like I had been having sex. I didn’t just smell like I was aroused; I smelled like I had actually been having sex. The same thing happened when I just observed at a kinky wrestling party (I reeeeeally like to watch sexy people wrestle sexily…). Then another time, a couple of years ago, I bought a single-tail, and my friend InspiredIniquity gamely volunteered to let me hit him with it, even though I’d never wielded one before. I was really a downright lousy whip top, and he was being very good about letting me know what I was doing wrong and what I needed to modify, and he and I were just friends… but somehow, whip practice devolved into something that felt supiciously like a scene that definitely left both of us panting. There was absolutely nothing overtly sexual about what we were doing–we were standing a good 3 feet apart–and yet both of us left with hard-ons. We both like single-tails a lot, but much more was happening than a shared kink: there was chemistry in that interaction that had nothing to do with the whip. (He quipped that he could have been teaching me to sautee vegetables, and it still would have been arousing, because that’s what the best chemistry does).

The weirdest point of convergence for me happened just a couple of weeks ago at Winterfire. I arrived there wicked horny because my pre-birthday orgy got genitalia-blocked by a snowstorm. I started asking around for “Trouble” (it’s my generic term for kink and/or sex), and B offered me rope. Now, a sensible person would have said, “Could there be sex first, please?,” but I’m not always a sensible person. I’m a spoiled slut, and I’ve learned that sometimes, sexy, weird, and delightful things come my way when I don’t ask for what I want (it’s not a strategy I’d recommend to other people. I live a strange life). The thing was, I’d never done a rope scene with him when I was that horny since he and I started sleeping together, and I wanted to see what it would feel like. And…alkalgohotgih… that’s not a typo. That’s my brain on rope. It’s just a scramble of unwords…

He was fully clothed and I was still in my underwear, but whatever it was we were doing felt far more intimate than sex. I’m not normally a twue rope slut (people who space out just from the pleasures of rope on their skin), but the moment his ropes touched my flesh, I felt like I was being completely encased in his body. I started spacing out from a simple TK, which is a tie I don’t even like very much. In no time, I found myself wishing that he would choke me, and without me ever saying a word, he did. I don’t really have a clue what that tie consisted of. It started out with me hanging low, then hanging higher, then higher still, with my back got arched at some fairly outrageous angle. But while I usually let myself have an energy orgasm in rope like that, this time, I kept holding back, torturing myself with energy and desire and letting myself be relatively gently tortured with rope and manipulated desires that I couldn’t control. By the time he let me down onto the ground, still very tied, I found myself desperately grinding my crotch into the top of his boot. I never did quite orgasm from all of that, but when all was said and done, I felt like rope had been a dizzying and intense substitution for sex. “Substitution” is a major disservice there. Maybe I should say that it was a dizzying and intense “upgrade.”

…And so that is the gamut of my experience with the relationships between sex and kink: from obviously kinky sex to not particularly sexy kink to kink that just plain felt like sex. To this day, 99% of my non-rope bottoming is sexual, and the idea of taking most forms of pain without getting to cum is just awful, and I can take a lot more pain when I get to cum. However, about 80% of my rope bottoming is not-very-sexual (although I usually have energy orgasms from it, which certainly calls the “non-sexual” part into question). Pretty much 100% of my switching is sexual. I actually mostly refuse to wrestle people I’m not at least minimally sexually involved with because it feels too much like sex to me (although I feel the same way about most forms of partner dancing as well). At the same time, about 75% of my (unswitchy) topping is not-very-sexual. I’ve even made people cum by hurting them without getting a particularly sexual thrill out of the experience (although it was certainly enjoyable for other reasons).

Does it look sexual to me? Much of the time, yes. But so does wrestling, massage, most forms of dance, many sung duets, and lots of other creative and sensual things that people do together. I still mostly do kink because of sex and because of the intimate and sexual connections I feel with people when I do it. Even ostensibly “non-sexual” scenes almost always lead me to just go off and fuck somebody else. When I kink with people I have sexual chemistry with, the scenes pretty much always make me obviously aroused; when I kink with people I’m not sure if I have sexual chemistry with, the scenes often leave me feeling vaguely aroused; and when I kink with people I’m definitely not attracted to, the scenes often leave me feeling excited, but not particularly aroused. So I guess my final answer my own question is: kink isn’t inherently sexual, but it’s mostly sexual for me most of the time.

That was the droid I was looking for

Some cocks cast a long shadow…

"Oh R2! You were the droid I was looking for!"

“Oh R2! You were the droid I was looking for!”

My husband tied the strap-on on our favorite droid.

Well, Easter/Ostara is nigh

So it’s time for a good old fashioned peeps dungeon.  Every kinky household needs one of these, right?

We actually based some of these peeps on people that we know and love...

We actually based some of these peeps on people that we know and love…

My husband and I made this a crazy labor of love awhile back.  There’s a St. Andrew’s Cross, a bondage table, a metal suspension rig with a peep in a gas mask, a bondage wheel, a wooden suspension rig, a metal cage, and a peep in saran wrap bondage.  I made silly peep pin-up pics and a leather daddy peep for the background just to add color.  This was definitely the most entertaining arts and crafts project I’ve ever done.  Even more fun than the threesome barbies.

Because, you know, ponies

My little strap-on

My little strap-on

I realize that this is probably funnier if you actually know me and my husband… but well, he likes fire and strap-ons.  So I feel the avatar captures a certain essential quality of our relationship dynamic.

Hook pulls with wings.

Hook pulls with wings.

I made this one for my partner InspiredIniquity.  He loves hooks and needles and doing vicious things to his sub, monkeypuppet.  The idea of flying her around with hooks was his own crazy notion.  He’s a sick fuck.  It’s really fun.

People of Kink Podcast

Want to know more about my life?  Check out the podcast interview I recently did for The People of Kink

Sometimes When the Goddess Closes a Pussy, She Opens an Ass

For pretty much my entire sexual life until about six months ago, one of the few hard and fast rules in my sex life was NOTHING GOES IN MY ASS.  I had permitted some experimentation over the years and never found receiving any ass-related activity remotely pleasurable.  I couldn’t even find it pleasurably painful.  I couldn’t even fathom what anyone found pleasurable about receiving assplay, and I pretty much just gave up, even though I lamented the inevitable deduction in my Slut Points as a result.

Then I got very sick.  For a long time.

My pussy was in shaky condition for several weeks from a yeast infection that turned into an off-an-on urinary tract infection…  And then it became downright unusuable after a kidney infection, another yeast infection, a likely ovarian cyst rupture, and an IUD with homicidal intentions (yes, this all really happened in the space of a couple of weeks).  All told, my pussy was completely unfuckable for two months, but it had been dubious for six weeks before that.

Of course, when I was at my sickest, I wasn’t really missing the sex much because I was in so much fucking pain.  But once I started to recover more, I started going nuts from being unfucked. It wasn’t just the physical sensation I missed (although Goddess knows I did, especially since for a lot of that time the lame external orgasms I could achieve frequently hurt to have)–it was the deeper emotional connection with  partners that I associate with being penetrated (with whatever bodypart).

So after slowly losing my mind for a couple of weeks, I came home one night and begged my husband to fuck my ass.  He’d only ever really done it once before for about thirty seconds, and he was understandably a bit wary.  I doubted I could ever get any regular pleasure from the experience, so I asked him to just dirty talk the hell out of me and fuck me into subspace to make it enjoyable for me.  I had persistently refused his many very polite requests to fuck my ass for yeeeeears.  So he was pleasantly surprised to find that whereas in the past I couldn’t cum if someone was even touching my ass, I actually managed to cum this time (screaming my head off) while he fucked it.

Well, I was desperate.

At that point, I was still regarding ass sex as a terrible substitute for “normal sex” (yeah, that’s a relative term for a kinky pansexual slut.  But this is my post, so just deal with the terminology).  My other partners got wind of my desperation and that my ass was now available, and started having a field day.  This was, afterall, a largely unexplored territory of my fairly well-explored slut body.  But the key epiphany came fairly early on, when VirginSlut was playing with my clit, and Capt was experimentally fingering my ass.

“Wait, go back!” I said frantically when he stopped doing something he had been doing.  “Whatever you were doing before actually felt good.” (You have to imagine the gasping surprise in my voice here).

We learned that night that the key to unlocking my ass was this weird side-to-side motion (cue Dr. Steel), and that the way to give me brain-breaking screaming orgasms was to bang my g-spot through my ass.  This was a double-epiphany, because historically I haven’t been able to tolerate much g-spot stimulation in my pussy, but it turned out to be just AWESOME coming through the back way.

And I got to have what I dubbed a “real orgasm” for the first time in months.

Because of my ass????

Of course, from that point on, it was just a gradual process of seduction.  There was an enthusiastic group of lovers to help me figure out that to get a cock into my ass, it usually worked a lot better to make me cum a couple of times with fingers first.  They stuffed fingers, silicone cocks, toys, and bio-cocks up me and kept startling me by how much fun it all could be.  The guys were still into the taboo part of the thing (asses are socially forbidden and dirty!), which is a fetish that I’ve never really been able to understand, but hey… I try to be GGG.  I just wanted to be able to have “real orgasms” again.

By the time my birthday orgy rolled around, and I could finally get my pussy thoroughly fucked, it felt weird by the end of the night that no one had fucked my ass.  I mentioned that sort of casually around 4 AM while dirty talking Capt… and he promptly fixed it.

And all I could think was: “Oh gods. I’ve turned into one of those sluts now.”

If you’re looking for a (im)moral to this story, I’m pretty sure it’s: if at first you don’t succeed, desperation and sexy people may fix that.

A Slut’s Creed

This was not written to be any other slut’s creed.  But this is how I do slutting.


I have sex for pleasure and satisfaction—my own, and my partners’.                     

  • I do not have sex to manipulate people.
  • I do not have sex to keep people in a relationship.
  • I do not have sex because I can’t think of anything else to do.
  • I do not have sex while intoxicated or with people who are, unless they are regular partners.
  • I do not have sex because I’m “supposed to.”
  • I can always say “no” if I want to—at any point, at any time, with any person.  As a slut, I usually choose not to.

If I seek sex for emotional validation or to feel wanted, I am honest with myself that this is what I want so I can fulfill the need.

  • I may have sex with people just because they ask—if I am so inclined.
  • I do my best not to emotionally hurt others or get hurt by fulfilling this need.
  • I may yield to pressure for sex without becoming a “victim”; I may even be excited by it.  I can also stop it whenever I want.

I define “sex” and “fucking” as it suits my and my partners’ desires.

  • I am not constrained by the heteronormative “coital imperative.”
  • I may kiss and flirt without wanting to fuck; if that makes me a “tease,” so be it.

I enjoy being used sexually without it reducing my sense of self or personhood.

  • I never knowingly allow someone to cheat on their partner(s) with me.

I enjoy using others sexually without it reducing their sense of self or personhood.

I practice safer sex for my own and my partners’ health.

  • I try to remember that communication and knowing my partners is the most important aspect of safer sex.
  • I recognize that “coitus,” while sexy, is a very risky sexual practice even with condoms and restrict it accordingly.