Tag Archives: exhibitionism & voyerism

The Gauntlet-men in Pain

It’s easy to find pictures that objectify female form, both in the ‘vanilla’ world and the kinky. That is why I constantly look out for other images. Especially those which objectify male suffering. I still find it very hard to sexualize non-consentual suffering, simply because it is often not erotic. But still, I’ve changed quite a bit and find more and more imagery thats hotter than hot.

Like this clip for example:

An undressed James Bond, exposed and vulnerable and in actual pain, struggling to keep the villain at bay, challenging him still. And some CBT have never hurt anyone before.

But this is a clip that I’m even more interested in. Because there is so many layers to it.

There is the cocky individual, trying to desert from the British Army, only to get caught out, having to enrol in another army. Suitable punishment follows, and as he walks through the gauntlet, slowly and controlled, but in pain. And this is a kink of mine, slow paces that forces the objet du désir to keep control over him or herself. Barry London is an interesting movie all in all, but this was definetly the highlight for me.

But all in all, I’m not feeling very toppy at all at the moment. The only thing I’m really longing for is to speak to a certain someone and have someone with rope bundle me up and move my mind and body. But maybe you will find something that is hot with both of these clips, at least I did.



Snippets of the week that passed at Stockholm Pride, 2010:


She asked me how to approach people at a party like we where on. A fetish party. And I realized that after two years, I still don’t really know myself, at least not any formulaes. The way that tend to work the best is to be quite upfront and talk about what is interesting and ask people about them, like anything in real life actually.

We started talking, and after a while I asked her politely if there was anything she was looking for and if there was anything that made her particularly curious.
I must say that I like to top ‘new’ people, those who are so eager to experience, but this person turned out to be more than that. N caught my interest in more than one way and we found common grounds quite fast. The first couple of minutes of us playing a bit later was affected by slight stress from my part, being nervous and was not sticking to a original plan. But after less than 2 minutes I found the place I wanted to move towards, and away we flew. And how it flew.
She sat with her hands tied infront of her, as if she was praying.   The rush was immediate. My arms reaching around her, and we are going from being fairly new to eachother to close friends, knowing eachothers skin better as each strand of rope came closer to her.

The ropes, touching, holding, waiting, wrapping strand after strand, her breathing getting heavier, her face disappearing bit by bit as the rope first covers her mouth, then her eyes. Sensitive nerve-endings, and a no force is needed when putting the rope in her mouth, following her grasp, as one of my hands covers her mouth, and the other her mouth. And when my palm strike her skin, it is just another way of not using big gestures, but keeping it less than large, holding on to a space that we have created together. The pinwheel making her shudder, my fingernails slowly digging in to her skin.

When directing her to the floor I don’t want to get to far away from her, and as her back start to take even more beatings,  I still keep close, always a hand on her shoulder. It is close I want to be, not leaving her side.


This is a translation of a text that was written by a lovely ropepartner of mine, after our first session at a all women’s play party. She wrote this as she wanted to explain how it affected her, and after reading it, I was so touched that I asked if it was ok to publish it here,and with her permission, here it is:

…After a while at the club, my body started to itch. Rope, rope, rope. I only knew one person there who did anything with rope and who might have some rope with her so I scouted her out. V. She was happy to tie me up a bit later, and as I was waiting I continued speaking with people, but now with a different expression in my face. A special smile. Those who saw that smile, pointed out how happy I was looking.

V made me take of the horrid heels and take off the jewels before she started to unlace my corset. And there was a certain manner in the way she took a hold of me, with a firm grip placing my arms with the wrists resting against eachother behind my back. The euphoric feeling rope gives started to slip through ny whole body. Not even thinking about it, my eyes closed. Despite the music and the people around us I created a small bubble for me, the rope and V. I think it took 3 pieces of rope before the arms were in place. Unprepared I went down on my knees when she pushed me to the floor. When she had asked me what I wanted I said that I wanted my arms to be stuck, but that she could tie more if she wanted.
After she had moved me around down on the floor and letting me lean on her a couple of seconds, just enough to feel the security of another person, V bent my right leg backwards so that thigh was parallell with the calf. Three rows of rope wrapped the leg before moving on to the next leg.

My objective here was to write about the beautiful feeling of rope. But it is so hard to grasp. It crept up slowly, bit by bit, that feeling together with the ropes. I’m filled with such comfort, when ropes are handled in the right way. In the end, I was place on the floor, lying on my stomach. The only thing I could see was peoples feet. When V placed a rope at my mouth I finally parted my lips and a small ropegag was in place. After that she wrapped rope over my eyelids. Carefully, bit by bit so to make sure I was ok. I did not know if I was first, but then it felt so good. The total freedom in helplessness, captivity, without me feeling a bit helpless. Just utterly happy and soft. She played around with the ropes, moved them. I just let her do it, suprised over how my breathing changed, suprised at how pleasureable it was. I loved her way on handling the ropes.

And I’ve been thinking about the difference. I’ve been tied a lot before, but very rarely the goal has been the tying itself. Instead the goal had been about being helpless, stuck, or a part of a quite hard a mean play. But this was rope for rope’s sake. And sure, in one way I felt dominated. In one way she showed who was in charge by her way of moving me around, the way she touched me. But it was different from previous experiences with rope. It was different and I liked it. A lot.

Written by Volang, 2010.
A couple of days later, and I am tired, anxious and trying really hard to get in to partymode. But instead of socializing, I’m doing more crying and am not even being able to express my wish of being tied up and properly beaten.
But after first tying myself up and spending some time with the chosen family, I realise I got mummification tape. Very handy. So after getting a positive response from S, mummification is a go.
S start by wrapping my arms separateley, somewhat different from what I am used to, but it proves to be even more efficent in preventing movement.  People gather around as I’m twirling into the tape and I’m aware of them looking, enjoying it and starting to relax for the first time, even if my brain is still not shutting up, bombarding my senses with impressions and troubled things.
When my upperbody is wrapped, including my chest, head and nose covered, S flips me over on to the floor.
Lying down, feeling the wraps travelling down my legs, furthering immobilizing and I can’t see, cannot move and hardly speak. Immobilized and I cannot even care about how it looks like. Their eyes gazing, but they can’t reach me here, the cocoon of black plastic shielding me from the world.
Time disappears, and suddenly thoughts do too. Drifting in and out of the space,, and travelling to a place where the mind shuts up, shuts down, and it is such a precious place. And as I arrive there, I linger as long as I can.
I don’t know how long time after, but after a while I ask S to slowly cut me out. This is alway a moment of slight fear, even if I know that safety shears are used. As the black plastic leaves my body I’m reborn, an intense feeling of katharsis only intensified by the small fears of being cut.
Entering the world again, with fresh breaths drawn filling my body with slowmoving energy. Looking around, everything is like it was before, except that it is not. The couple next to me, prepping the needle scene when I first started to disappear in the black plastic, is now not prepping anymore. Both of his arms, his chest and his back is covered in needles, and I realise things like that takes some time. One look at the watch and it tells me an hour has passed. I fell asleep in the plastic, in my cocoon.
And I feel good again, born again, flying on low-intense energy, delightfully buzzing in my stomach. After sleeping an hour, wrapped in black plastic.

Partying in Scandinavia I

This is the first part  that puts focus on what you can do if you happen to visit Sweden or Denmark as a kinkster. This interview is done with Fredsarmé, one of the organizers of a new fetishclub in the south of Sweden. Their next event takes place this weekend and they plan on having events on every third month.

For some one who has never heard about Lunds lekloft, what can you tell about it? Would you say it’s different from other kinky clubs in Sweden and in that case, how would it be different?

– Lunds Lekloft is one of the largest clubs in southern Sweden with clear focus on fetishism, kinky sex and BDSM. There are mainly three things that differentiate us from other clubs with similar focus in Sweden.

1. We are exceptionally allowing when it comes to different types of play, and provide first-class safety.
2. We allocate a great deal of efforts towards the playrooms.
3. We try to get hold of exciting and notorious shows.

How did the idea of arranging a reoccurring event come to mind?

– The idea of Lunds Lekloft was created in an increasing urge for such a party in Skåne, there were a period of almost a year when nobody had arranged anything of such kind in Skåne. MissAnderson and I felt that we hade the necessary skills and motivation to end the problem. We hade both visited most of the events in southern Sweden, so we had a clear opinion of what was missing and what could be done better. After long time of research and discussions we eventually know exactly what we wanted to create. As they say: the rest is history.

Was it difficult to find a venue that was appropriate for the event? Did you have to make any special arrangements in order to get access to the venue?

-To find an appropriate venue was actually one of the most difficult obstacles in our way, especially since we didn’t want any restrictions on play or outfit. One has to find the right interior design, the right amount of rooms, the right surroundings and location, the right venue owner and most important the right feeling. Unfortunately most venue owners were not at all very positive to give room for the activities we were interested in. It sure wasn’t easy but eventually we found a venue we both liked, and with some adaptations, design and effort it really was quiet nice.

What would your advice to any one who would like to organize a kinky party?

-Only enter this complex and demanding business if you are perfectly sure that you have what it takes, failure is not an option! Experience from entrepreneurship, event-planning, marketing, and management is not a bad thing to have. I have experience from six entrepreneurial companies and I am quiet positive: the experience has helped me a lot. One of the most usual mistakes is that the organizers create what they think is missing or what they would like having, they are not focusing enough on costumers value. We are doing this for the sake of our guest – our costumers, and nobody else.

In Sweden, every time any one set up a new event, there is always an issue with the dresscode. The question is ‘to be or not to be dressed’ or maybe even, ‘what to dress in, how to dress’. After reading on your website and reading your thorough statement on dressode and code of conduct it struck me that you really make an effort to include as well as help those who want to come to your club. How did you work the dresscode out, what was your main concerns and how do you, as club organizer, plan to enforce that dresscode?

– Our main vision of Lunds Lekloft is to be to offer a club that is as allowing as possible. Our dresscode is following that vision so that we want to allow everything, with only two exceptions. First for uniforms now used by authority in Sweden, because there are restrictions in the law for the use of those and it could be a juridical problem for both the wearer and for us. The second exception is for outfits that are not differenced enough from what you could wear on an ordinary club. We are aware that far from everyone finds fetishism attractive but we demand some kinky creativity and willingness to stand out from ordinary clubbers, because we are not an ordinary club. The fact that everyone are wearing an outfit that are reflecting kinky sexuality in some way will create a way better sensation for all guests.

After the first event what kind of feedback did you get?

– People seemed so glad that we had started Lunds Lekloft, and they wanted us to continue! We got quiet a lot of tips on how to make next event even better, and we have listened to our costumers. I can with strong confidence say that next event will be greatly better.

And finally, what is the best thing about organizing the Loft?

– No doubt the best thing about organizing Lunds Lekloft is all the positive feedback we get. The smiles on the faces of our guests are really worth all the effort!

Thank you Fredsarmé for that interview and good luck to you and MissAnderson this weekend!

Internet is for pr0n

In times when I got lots and lots of things I want to write, it is easy that it takes too much time before getting an actual post out there. So here is one more of those ‘look at this! ‘.

I had one of those weird sleepless nights some days ago and ended up clicking away on youtube.
This was one of my favourite, who said BDSMers did have a sense of humour?!

Then, Torture Garden reminded me of what I like with the club in the first place. Through Torture Garden TV I was watching performances and interviews. Of course there was the stereotypical bull every here and there, but it was a couple of interviews I found really interesting and refreshing.
First of all, Buck Angel. Oh, how much adore that man with a pussy. This is a very basic interview but in the same time it is still oh so clear what he is talking about. A man I truly admire on so many levels.

Secondly, Kumi’s interview as well as show with Midori are clips that show something that is completely different from many other shows out there. Kumi states that she is looking for something new, something that gear away from the usual shows, that she is not very interested in the usual images of BDSM and wants to create art. It is important to remember these artists, because without them, the kink-scene would die. And boredom would rule.

A bit more with Kumi can be seen in this video, which is truly a work of art with  behind the scenes photos from a session in collaboration with Gilles Berquet and Mirka Lugosi.

There you go. Hope you have patience enough to wait for those texts that I’m working on!

More with Kumi can be found here

Swedish Fetish- Andrea Belluso, & Male Submission Art

Swedes are perverted. Everyone knows that, just take a look at this.

That is just an example of exactly how perverted we are. Damn us.

Earlier this year, a very special book was published, with photographs made by Andrea Belluso, who’s photographs has resulted in the book ‘Swedish Fetish’.

© Andrea Belluso

This is a book that is not, unlike many other collections, only uses professional models that maybe not have any connection to the actual physical act, nor any kind of relation to possible fetish pictured. It is not like the compliations of Marquis and such either, with women only being there for the male gaze, passive and pouting in random latexoutfit. I must admit. I hate Marquis. I hate Marquis so much I could commit a crime everytime I lay my eyes on it. I hate Marquis so much that I start to consider to become vanilla sometimes. A more male-centric, sexistic, ******** , ******* magazine is hard to find. Will come back to you readers with some samples of the idiocracies published in Marquis.

So I don’t read Marquis, I stare at Belluso’s work instead. And this is one more sample of what I see.

Andrea BellusoThere is good images out there, images that can tickle the fantasy and be artistic. Gosh, I am sounding like a elitist, with certain stanAndrea Bellusodards. I guess I am. So shoot me. I like kitsch, I like trash, I like sleaze, but I want to be challenged. To think, even if it is so just for a moment. Pictures of sex and sexual acts are so fucked (in a sterilised, normative way) that we hardly react to it, which means that at least I feel that I want something that is not like that. Something that is not just for me but also for the person pictured. Object and subject.
All hail Belluso for doing this!

Another interesting website when it comes to images, is Male Submission Art. Many of the pictures are steaming hot, with men that are awesomely beautiful, and pictures that do not focus on the dominant woman, instead we have our eyes fixed on the man. You can at all times contribute to this amazing site as well!


Male Submission Art

Swedish Fetish by Andrea Belluso


Play at Rubber Ball II: A:s second evening

The first evening? Scroll down or click here

And now, the evening after.. Preparty’s done, I’ve inspected the bruising I’ve caused and am mighty well pleased with myself, or more, my first bruising and his reaction to it. My birthday is coming up any minute now, and it feels good. To share it with the people who are here. Mostly perverted swedes who flown in to have a depraved weekend, but also J. This post will give you a review of the event it self.

Since the dungeon is busy but also shut off for those who are not playing (everyone can still browse over the fence) there is plenty of room and I want to take my time. Now I have a toybag full of goodies and baddies and a sub with massive puppy-eyes. A big part of that toybag belongs to J, and every opportunity to use is a bit like gold.

A is once again at my feet, bowing his head down. I know the best of use of fake nails, the acrylic is hard and is sort of happy to eat on skin. A on the floor with a collar and a leash. His poor nipples is blue and have to leave them alone. In the corner of my eye I see a cross that is getting available. I need time. Heck, I’m no “fix everything in a second” dom. That only happens in novels. Not in my life. And then my head understands it all. I got the space here, got the time and got someone with me. Take a deep breath, focuses and let go.

So I ask him to crawl. Ask him to crawl over to the cross, and think about what I might come to do to him. When he crawls it looks kind of.. strange. I know there is a dom in here somewhere, and she is peaking out every once in a while. But the gesture of someone crawling for me…First time for everything and then seeing him sitting and waiting patiently, that was what strike me. With full force and then, focus, strapping him tightly this time.

Start lightly with a soft flogger, getting the breathing up, continuing with a heavier suede one (my favorite), resisting the temptation to stretch after his sore nipples and enjoying the heavy feeling of the flogger, feeling energy flowing right into his back as he both moan and sometimes yell out lowpitched scream. Again, I meet that arched back and sucking every inch out of it. Between a knotted hemp flogger that stings like the devil (one of those things I really sort of twitch everytime I think about it) and his now more and more high-pitched sounds I tap with light fingers over his body, stroking the warm skin, kissing, licking. Pressing my body against his, and that thought turns me on as well. Him being there for me, willingly.

Picture & flogger courtesy of TrussedUK.

In a slower part of the play he ask about permission to speak. I grant his wish, and he tells me that this is the first time ever someone put him to a cross and flogged him like this. Ever. First it that something that make me think if I should safeword, I always try to get as much information out of a possible playpartner, but this was something that had not come to my attention. I do a  check-up, turn down the tempo and we got going again. Alternating between the heavy suede flogger and a Eco-flogger (made by recycled inner tires from bicycles, very recommended!) that gives more of a sting and a bite.
Then, another gorgeous girl enters the arena, a certain someone who A has claimed that he does not have any problem playing with. The thought attracts me, double the mean things that can be done, and I come to think about the brilliant riding crop and the very thin dressagewhip.

We alternate in between hitting his now red and warm behind. He never knows what to except from whom, since we don’t count the strokes and hits. The reaction is more than wonderful. His confusion with the double strokes, the different sensations and us teasing and beating him is almost more than enough. It turns me on as well, seeing her work her crop an getting in to the same rytm as I have.

In a way, I don’t want to stop but the heavy breath of sweet, sweet A tells me to, that and the fact that this is his first time.

Slowly taking him down,and the same ritual again. Even if I support every step of a sub, the show is not over until I say it’s over. Again, having him kneel, kiss mine and her hand and feet and then. The show is over.
He is a bit unsteady, but blissful is the better word. He and his friend walks off together, and J is waiting for me outside. We chat a bit to a friend, talk about the evening and then decide to move around a bit more. In the other room there is a very familiar song played, Stina Nordenstams voice fills me with all , and I hold on to J as he hold on to me,  and we move slowly moving around to the music, maybe one could call it dancing. I don’t care if it is. I’m here with him.

Despite a wonky club-evening, despite everything, I am at peace. Okay, I’m in between languages, on a scene that many times makes me mad as fuck, but I’m not stuck. The world can also make me mad as fuck but the world is kind of manageable. Because of the people in it.



Play at Rubber Ball I

I asked him to drop his trousers at the cross and pull up the sweater. His sweat was salty. The cross is a favourite, legs and hands apart and strapped tightly, making moves impossible, or just allowing enough movement to make the submissive realise that he or she cannot move anywhere. The first night of our play I did not use the restraints, I did not want to.

Don’t move”

It should be sufficient enough, but he is not one of those ones. He is the type I want, the only type I can consider playing with.  A struggling kind, some fire, energy and resistance.

I started off stroking, then a bite every now and then, a nail scratching, heavier strokes, going deeper. Digging my palms into muscles. Made him moan a bit. Wiggle his cute, well shaped ass. I did not have any toys with me, except from my body and his. A canvas. as cheesy as it may sound. It is a canvas, and I am a creative person with muscles and a brain. And I’m longing for colour, blushing skin and guttural sounds.

I hit his buttcheeks, alternating between a cupped and flat palm of my hand, changing in speed and changing in how heavy I let the strokes land. I hit his back.

He says he can’t take it. I don’t listen. He says that he can’t take it, I listen enough to give a warm part a stroke with my tongue. I’m so gracious. There and then, in my frame of mind, he did deserve it. He wiggled and moved around, even when he was told not to do so. Perfect…

I pressed my body against his, let him know that I removed the bolero from my upper body and that I got sweaty because of him. Painting him in colours I love.

20 minutes later, after hitting his back and ass, and also slapping the back of his thighs I’m wrapping things up. He wanted to get off the cross, begged me, without asking about permission to speak. I ignored it.

Stand there, stay still until I say you can move”

I backed away from his body on the cross, monitored his deep breaths and still heard him whimpering every now and then. With my eyes fixed I took a zip of my water, got the clothes back on, adjusted the bolero so it only partially showed off my breasts and slowly moved closer. Took my time..

I was so aware of the audience it another rush travelled like electric through my body.

This is a scene, this is a show, and I can direct in any way possible.

Step down”

He stepped down from the cross. I asked for him to thank me. He kissed my shoe and I gave him a smile.