Tag Archives: fetish

The leather boots

A audio-memory resurfacing: a loud bang as two boots are hitting the surface of a stage. And the effect: a trembling traveling through my body, eyes zooming in on the black leather, they boots that become so much bigger in the mind.

A couple of weeks later, on another continent and another venue, with other perverts. Boots again, leatherboots on a man whom I know can be a mean bastard. I trust him to be absolutely nasty when he an. We are sitting on the floor and Zahara is being instructed on how to polish his boots. Bootblacking itself is perhaps not a thing of mine, but more the thought of loosing oneself in a task to produce a meticulous result, and doing it for someone. the eyes are drawn to the more and more shiny surface of the boots, their potential and stability. Boots are grounding, leather boots evenmore so, allowing the foot to rest against the ground, to move smooth and steady, to stomp, to kick, to walk. It is the action the boots enable, and the person who is wearing them become a possibility to act.
For all high-heel fetishizes out there: I’m sorry bu it is really not my thing. As an element of bondage and aesthetic, sure, but if I bottom/submit to someone and wearing heels, unless they say otherwise, I take them off. They are a liability in play, unless, again, that is the point. Same with when I dom. If I play physically, I don’t trust myself enough or my balance when wearing them. I want feet either bare or firmly placed, a stance that is capable or willing to move in what ever way is necessary. That freedom my friend, for me, does not come in heels. And yes, I’m pretty fucking good at wearing and walking in heels. But who ever came up with the thought that high heels are empowering/dominant must have never had to wear a couple for more than 12 hours. Although these ones are quite wonderful.


Boots on the other hand. Any kind of. Docs, Undergrounds, riding boots such as Königs, Cavallo, Pikeur or even better; properly used old school ones. Then there is the ones which makes you salivate just thinking about them,Corcoran, Wesco, et cetera. Laced up tightly, clean lines. Or the stealth ones, boots which almost disappears onto the person, so discrete but still so potent. Hugging the feet perfectly.

Picture found at Stompers Boots.

Trousers tucked in, or resting on top. A dress or a skirt, with a hint of lace from the petticoat contrasting the raw leather. A kilt, flowing movements of the fabric and then the stillness, the firm cut of a wellfitted boot.

It is in the end of the evening and my energylevels are completely down to zero. have eaten two cupcakes for dinner, drunk silly amounts of water, three awesome playsessions and steered off an idiot or two. A friend is getting off in one corner, his shoulders and hips tense, undulating with that frenetic movement of someone in such a state of pleasure that any other movement that does not seek to enhance that pleasure is impossible. I’m rather happy, contended, like a relaxed animal, a bit vulnerable in the tiredness and relaxation. If approached, I would expose my neck freely, surrender. Does that state of mind show? Perhaps it does because suddenly he has gripped me and thrown my body to the floor,the mind follows a second after. A faint smile and that kind of glint in the eyes. This is not going to be pretty. Earlier he had shouted at me to keep my fucking head down when he was flogging, now he does not say a single word. Just the glint in the eyes, the focus and then a stomp of his foot, right next to my head. It is a shining entity of it own when it is upclose like this. A threat and a promise. I’m pulled, pushed, pressed against the ground, he is moving my body where ever he wants it, and I can only try to follow, the best as I can. When he drags me over the floor, I keep up enough to not get a carpet-burn. Light kicks, the sole of his boot pressing down my arm, as he pulls my hand upwards. A knee compressing my chest. Stomps, fast and fluid movements. Some kind of tempo that is building up. In the end, I’m lying face down, with my arms underneath, almost bracing myself, I don’t want it to end, never do. Slowly opening my eyes, there they are, the black leather boots, shining, tucked into the cammo trousers and further up; that glint in his eyes. And a boot against the chest or the face, somewhere, somehow; that is just perfect.



Testing the waters

So, there is a couple of different notions of waters that I’m going to write about in this post. First, water as a fetish, then waterbondage and what comes with that. Lastly,  watersports, or piss-play.

It is an odd thing, discovering a new fetish. I started this journey about two years ago, a journey into pervery, and all of this is of course a continuous exploration. Of those things that has been most remarkable has been the fact that I started to do needles, which, for anyone who knows me and knows about my knifephobia, is a huge step. Another step, not as big, but certainly interesting, was how I a couple of months ago realised that I have a fetish for water, a fetish that I have previously not pronounced as one. But here it goes: I’m a aquaphiliac/hydrophiliac. How did I come to that conclusion then? Well, I actually needed to see it in print in order to connect the dots from the past, the present and the future. A little book that described different types of fetishes, and one of them was having a fetish for water, in what ever shape or form that fetish might be experienced. For me, it is mostly about sensation. There is something in water that makes me feel alive, that makes me feel strong. The slickness of skin, turning into an element of nature, in some ways transcending a notion of flesh. Flesh that sometimes does not seem to be enough becomes perfect or bettered in water, and it becomes something that I can more easily relate to. Through moving in water, I feel myself more. That is of course something that almost all of my sexual practices bring with them, but extra clear when water is involved.

I’ve always felt good in water, swimming, taking a shower, standing in the rain (had numerous colds due to my love to stand in rain getting soaked, especially in the spring and during the summer), my head being held down under water, someone forcing me to shower in cold water, being led to believe that I am drowning. Water-boarding or getting showered by a cold stream. A cock in me, while head being held under the surface, feeling him fucking me and not caring about me shaking. And fingers clinching my nose shut, my body held by a tight rope harness, dipped and seeing him through the surface. Or being threatened, hanging close, close to the surface. Beneath or below the surface, expectation, fear and focus.

Emma Alexa snorkelling by Richard Knightly

First of all, the sensation of water, the touch of water is very erotic. The slick, flowing part makes my skin breathe in a different manner, much like the feeling of latex. I think there is a correlation there. If you ever had showered or taken a swim in latex, you know what I am talking about, and if you can but have not yet done it, do.
So this is more than BDSM, it is sensation. It is a fetish and it is a practice. And do you know what?  I miss my fetishes. At the moment I’m dealing with a body that does not feel like mine, and because of that, certain fetishes that has the nature of being associated with touch, latex is now very far away from me.
But that is another post. But anyhow, I’m missing my fetish. And curse the day that there became a divide in the BDSM and fetish world. Because I want all the crackers. Greedy fucking girl. I tortured the VISA card the other week, and looking forward to all the slick items that will drop in to my postbox.

But it was water I was talking about. My body becomes a possibility, a movement and is soaked. Like when he grabs my body and force my face into the stream of water coming from the shower head. Says nothing, just holding me there, grasping for air. I cannot distinguish the details of his face because of the stream of water, but I can feel his eyes all over my body,watching my reactions.

And in water I become a tease. Before play and when we are just suppose to shower I’m rubbing myself against more things than soap.  It is one of the few occasions when I can seduce and feel seductive. The water streaming over my body makes me powerful, even when it makes me grasp for air.

Then there is the piss. The watersports  and this is something that has to do with humiliation. As it is one of my partners main-fetishes I did not write it off immediately, although I must say I never thought about it until he spoke of it.  No harm can be done trying yes? 🙂

Golden Shower, Model: BoyKitten, Photo by Razoir

This was hard for me, on many levels. I guess I’ve been socialized into the whole thing about bodily-fluids as waste and as ‘unclean’. There is nothing ‘unclean’ about piss really, but to make my brain understand that is another story.
I crave the feeling of being stripped of control, pushed deeply down in to something that is for someone else and with me as a mere object, a frame and/or a receptacle. This is not about fetishist pleasures, that is not the objective. It touches on different elements of sexuality, such as disgust/abject, submission, fronts and layers.

Disgust/abject, because sex and piss are so far away from each other, at least where I come from. As many others, I grew up learning all about staying clean, not making a mess, about the body as a limit of what is appropriate or not. The physical body (especially female) is one of constant improvement, a degradation of all that is seen as ‘not feminine’ enough, a special hiding-place created for the bodily excretions, such as urine, feces, spit, menstrual blood, snot and pus. Which can seem a bit odd, because women are still also so often seen as the body she inhabits and nothing more. But the tampon has to be hidden, there is only joint pissing if one has to go somewhere where there is no other alternative.
And I’m kind of riding on top of all this. While often being accused of not being especially feminine (when did I even say I was!?) and not really that bothered by periods (especially after the arrival of the MoonCup, everyone should have one!) for a number of reasons, I still find pissplay hard.

Submission is hard. It is not easy, even when one could pretend it is. It is about merging and meeting desires on terms and conditions that sometimes can be ever so changing. I could say that communication is everything, but when everything has been communicated then? What is there left? When engaging in piss-play I want to trust, and I do. But my brain keep on giving me smart, little comments, worrying about things I should not, because he will take of it. He knows and does it, always. So how can I get in to a frame of mind? Is this because I feel like I loose something when it happens? Is this about the fronts and the layers?

Fronts and layers…yes.  When sitting squatting, fully dressed, being told to piss, it goes against something strong in me, something that makes me not even want to be in the same room as someone else while they are taking a piss otherwise. I want to be squeaky clean in a way, I like order. I like concepts that are tangible within that framework. In a messy room, my thinking patterns becomes fucked up, in clothes that are not what I usually would pick I feel trapped. As a creature of habit and control, I yearn to be picked in to pieces and maybe even put back again. That is where the layers come in. How many layers can one reach? Doll once spoke of people as being onions, multi layered and always changing. But when does one start to cry as the onion is dismantled? Strangely enough, I can often brush off the humiliating feeling, I am so focused on that I know that I might get clean. It is easier to rip a front than to strip layer after layer.

All of this makes me sound like I don’t like watersports. And while there is a certain truth about that I don’t fetishize the piss nor the tactility  associated with it, I yearn to be dismantled in that way that I think I can see how piss would. And that is something I never thought I would say.
And the deeper he goes, the deeper I want him to push me And in the end, I might cry. Out of relief, happiness and the feeling of safety.

Congratulations to Norway and some other important matters

First of all:

About a year ago, perves in Sweden were not to be considered sick anymore.
Now, it is Norways turn:

The Norwegian Directorate of Health has decided that certain diagnostic codes are now invalid in Norway, thus changing the Norwegian version of the international diagnoses register. (ICD-10)
The following diagnoses are taken out: fetishism, fetishistic transvestism, sadomasochism, multiple disorders of sexual preference, and transvestism.
– In our opinion there is no basis, neither in today’s societal norms nor in professional health thinking, to classify these diagnostic groups as disease, says head of the Health Directorate Bjorn-Inge Larsen. By excluding the use of these codes in Norway the Directorate wishes to contribute to the weakening of a general opinion that certain sexual preferences, sexual identities and gender expressions may be seen as states of illness.

The really interesting article can be found here

Congratulations Norway! The activism has given result, and joined Denmark and Sweden as being countries where you can be a healthy perv.

For those of you who need more proof of how stupidity reigns the world with weird methods, read this excellent wallraff article on how to ‘cure’ gay men. Amongst many things that will make you gay is your (neglecting or too neglecting) parents, Freemasons, sexual abuse or just in general not being in touch with oneself. I’m just telling you, if you had happened to have missed that.
To read more about exgay movement, Ex-gay watch and Beyond Ex-gay is a good place to start.
I also wrote a bit about the possibilities of a cross-over between ex-gay and ex-bdsm and how it could be manifested. That you can read about here.

One writer that always makes me feel something is Penny Red. She writes so eloquently and passionately about politics, feminism and a whole lot more that I go all mushy and sometimes teary-eyed. Writers like her are needed, voices like hers are needed.
Three of her latest pieces resonated strongly within me, one on the misogyny and racism hidden in the debate over the veil , one about trans-activism and also, very appropriately slamming the  Comment is Free-article by Simon Jenkins who is ‘defending‘ the pope (cause that ex-nazi, priest-peadophilia cover-upper needs sooooooo much defending…) in this excellent post ‘Does Simon Jenkins shit in the woods?’

That’s all for now folks.

Happy Thanksgiving!


Happy Thanksgiving to all of you!


Tomorrow, I am making use of the American so called Black Friday. I’m going to get two dresses from House of Bias and some other lovely thing, and since the dollar is so weak + the sale is on, it’s going to feel so good. And I’ve got something very blasphemous ordered yesterday.

Essays are getting written and I don’t really have the attention span to write on two blogs in the same time.
But I would like to make a quick note of a couple of awesome experiences that I’ve had lately:

A very rewarding beginners bondage workshop with London’s own Esinem. A full day of ropetalk and tying. What not to like is there, really?!
Esinem works from the codex of ‘tie people, not parcels’. That means that it is the interaction with the involved that matters, actions and reactions. Tying people, not on armlenghts distance but being close. Expressing, with rope, the connection. Not talking about Two Knotty Boys here, but the oh so wonderful ways of connecting with ropebunny.

So, while he was learning us single and double column ties, he also spoke and showed us ways to keep the connection, keep it flowing and basically, keeping it hot and exciting. There was tricks there that suddenly fell into place, but at some points I also fell flat. Because suddenly a two column tie seemed like the toughest thing in the whole world. I react in the same way when going to a dance class. I concentrate so much on following the steps that I can’t do it at all. Very frustrating.
But as the day went on and more and more jute fluff flew around in the room I relaxed. A very nice relaxed lunch was topped with some videos with the work of Osada Steve, but also some of the work that Esinem himself has done. Here is an example of what I see is a very strong performance, using bondage in a provocative,political, thoughtful, creative and downright amazing way.

Anyhow, after some well deserved lunch we continued, and in the end of the day there was even some time to try out a chest-harness. Before that I decided to do some self-bondage and it became something really nice that I know enjoy a lot as an activity. In regards to the chest-harness I must admit that I only came halfway, but that halfway through a chestharness gave me more thoughts and insights that any other has done so far.
I can recommend the course, and if you feel that a beginners course is a bit to simple for you ( I would love to do the same again so I could frame everything better and practice with more supervision!) there is alos a intermediate course and a advanced.  It’s well worth the money, Esinem teaches very well, give you tips, insights, inspiration, and you will have a lot of fun.

A couple of days later I attended a peer-rope workshop. Which was also amazing. A sunday afternoon and evening and the hours flew by all to fast. Watched some wonderful ropework being done, including a lot of suspensions.  Did again some self-bondage, got some help with that, then had a really beautiful spiderharness done, and in the end having very fun with an amazing woman. We hid a bit, found a calm space with dimmed lightning and sat down on the floor. And this is where I keep coming back to. Those 20, 30 minutes with her. Because afterwards, my legs were shaking, I was giggly and calm in the same time. And I had been the one doing the tying. Not since this summer I had felt anything like it (yes, I miss Korrosion) and it made me love the event even more. So, if you are in London, like rope, not busy on a sunday,  check if the peer-rope is happening and go.

Last, but certainly not least. A new shining star on the club sky in London. Crimson is so fucking good. With a focus on the playspace, they must be the most well-equiped playclub in th U.K with at least two suspensionframes, numerous crosses, spankingbenches, a spitroast, bondagebed, medical play area, etc, etc. There is always space to play, but still very easy to be social and feel relaxed. All in all, it feels like a very, very big houseparty that is so kinky that it would make your jaw drop. Next one will be in february and I will be there.



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

London Fetish Fair & London Alternative Market

I don’t think  ( and really hope) that no one objects when I say that kink is big buisness and loads of money. Because it is.  Searching on the internet makes you find virtually everything. Some of the sites and buisnesses are great, some are less great, and my ‘humble’ opinion is that most of it is kack.
My own shopping is more or less based on the senses. I like touch and use it when ever I can. But I also like to be able to pay a fair amount of money, rather than a mad over-the-top kind of style. I don’t think a horsewhip that is 10 quid should be 40 just because it is sold as a BDSM-object.

In Sweden, there is a certain limitation of choice, as everywhere else. Everyone can find the local hardware store (which are great!) and in at least every smaller city there is a ‘erotic boutique’ or pr0n shop as I like to call them. I may be judgemental, but it is rare that the conventional store actually have something that is both good quality and safe to use and furthermore, staff is not very interested in helping out. I am talking about normal towns here folks, in Sweden, and we may be perverts, but the market is still bollocks, filled with toys that are both dangerous, badly produced, riding on the fears of the consumers, etc etc. So, either if you are into the pain and domination filth or if you are just dipping your toes, it can be recommended  to do some research.  And to help you out, I am going to start the…..*drumsolo*

‘Ve’s guide to filthy shopping’

next week.

But before that starts, there is other hunting grounds to be found. If you are so lucky and spend some time in London then it could be that you find yourself being able to go to London Fetish Fair (LFF) or London Alternative Market (LAM). Both are markets aimed for the pervert who like to socialise, learn and maybe shop.
LAM is every first Sunday of the month and LFF takes place every second Sunday. If you are in London and have the possibility to go, do. The prices are fair, the people are fun and it is also no dresscode + playpartys after each and every event.

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