Tag Archives: Pr0n

The Doctor


In 2010 I sat on a panel speaking about BDSM 101 on Stockholm Pride.  It was an interesting experience, as it always is, because at that point, I had only recently started talking about kink in a public setting. Explaining what you do and why to people who perhaps have never heard of practices such as BDSM is a great thing to do, because it makes you understand it more for yourself as well as challenges you to pronounce things more clearly.
A year later at Pride 2011 there was a lot of focus on rope-bondage, mainly because I have managed to put all of my fingers in the pie. Esinem travelled from the UK to present and talk in different classes, and all were very well attended. During one of these classes I got to meet someone who I will call the Doctor.

He approached me during Esinem’s class on ‘Tying People Not Parcels’ to ask if we could work together. I have been walking around assisting Bruce for the most part of the evening but did not hesitate to jump in as he asked so nicely. In short: there was no tuition on how to actually tie something like a leg or a arm in this class it was all about the interaction.The Doctor said that he did not how to tie, and I just showed him how he could use a larks’ head around my chest, a couple of pointers on safety, and then just wrap the rope while remembering what Esinem had been speaking about. Now, there was something that really shook me when he was doing this, simply because he was god damn good at it, better than many experienced riggers. In the beginning I asked him if he wanted me to be quiet or give him feedback while he was doing this. He said specifically that he was interested in feedback, so I responded, both verbally but also physically while he was tying, letting him know what the effect of certain movements and things that he did made me feel like. Afterwards, he asked if I could tie him, and we sat down again. It was intense to tie him then and there, simply because it felt like he got it, the kind of rope-gospel I like to preach to people. When I caught one of his fingers with the rope and started to manipulate his body, there was such a big smile in his face I was almost floored. Except for the fact I was already sitting on the floor.
We met up again later that week, and ended up talking a whole afternoon and evening, with a lot of wine and sushi involved. Thirsty was there to.  It became clear that the Doctor had heard me speak in 2010 and had started to piece together what his interests were and then  had decided to come to the bondage workshop this year. We spoke about everything and anything, but mostly kink, and especially DS. Later Thirsty confessed that he had felt like armcandy and liked it. That night, we ended up sitting at cliffs overlooking the whole of Stockholm, as it was lit by night. The sea looked like black oil, we made out, abused Thristy, a group of 16 year old’s asked if we were having a threesome and we could not really answer anything else but yes. After having failed on finding ourselves a hotel room; first checking up hotels online and then calling them in the middle of the night was probably not a good way of trying… we said our goodbyes. Another night was already on the cards as all of us had the same town as base. So when I headed down for a quick visit to south of Sweden, me and the Doctor planned in another  night just the two of us. It started with Thai food, we picked up rope and toys and then headed to his place. There he corked up the champagne, and true to his specific brand of hedonism, strawberries. Talking, laughing and flirting was very soon followed by making out. The rope came out of the bag and the second time he ever tied someone,  he did it again so well that he spaced me out.  This is rather special, as it is very few people who have the ability to do this at all and most of the time, they are fairly experienced with rope. This is not so much about their technical capabilities, but rather about the joint notion of their desire, their way of tying and their confidence. In this case, with The Doctor, it was about the way he moved and his closeness and intensity that made us connect on a whole different level.


Another thing which was very interesting was to experience his exploration of dominance. As a bottom, he shines very strong, basking in the stimuli, and reacts to it very strongly, holding nothing back, a twitchy plaything that enjoys every second of what he is getting. But as a but as a dom, he is almost like a scientist: a special tone of voice, a distant, almost frightening presence. When he found my evil hitty schtick he did not use for pain, but to point and prod, to control my body, to place it in positions he deemed beautiful. As he studies the body his knowledge of it is very precise, and as one of those who get off on expertise, it has been rather remarkable to hear this man talking about the vulnerability of the skin. This has happened on several occasions, using Thirsty as an anatomical doll for example, writing with a sharpie, pointing and prodding, speaking about every little detail, those details that makes it so much more scary when pressing against the vulnerable skin. The man is certainly learning at the speed of light. And I’m looking forward to much more fun to be had. Especially since he is a bi switch, who loves rope and thinks every day should come with champagne.



The sunbeams across the floor

We have known each other for years, mainly through the spoken word scene and mutual aqaintances. I must have been 16 the first time we ran in to each other, and two summers ago he made delicious cocktails in the bar around the corner from where I lived a short summer. He is tall, with a distinct look, somewhat rockabilly style, shy smile and a very nice voice. I never really thought there was any interest from his part, which was why I was so surprised when he emailed and asked about next time I would be in Sweden and if I wanted to meet up. It was a busy but very sunny week, and drinks felt like a perfect break from DIY and random annoying stuffs that needed taking care of.  We headed down towards the beach with cider and swimwear, ending up walking along the coast-line talking, before finding a a spot in the hot sand. It felt good, no, it felt better than good. It was relaxing, like a rekindling of a friendship, even though we never been very close. The first dip in the sea this year was refreshing, and I started to feel almost like a teenager again, in that very silly way. The sky was clear blue, a light breeze easing the burning rays of the sun. We spoke about our tattoos, what they meant to us, continued talking about poly and how respectivley finding our poly-identities had changed our lives. There was something… different about him, something more open, settled, and grounded. I think he kissed my hand first, then I kissed him. A slight taste of cigarettes, his gold-tooth feeling smooth, a hint of cider, the skin smelling of sun. My head rested on his chest, and I could hear his heartbeats.

There is something in the way he kissed, and how we spent the rest of the evening together.  We have a drink, talk. And time after time again, it feels so simple. We speak of kink, just by accident, finding common grounds. When returning to his, we make out on the couch for hours, my lips are become sore after all the kissing and it is a bit like being a teenager again. Then there is something rather special when I play with his nipples. It is like playing with an instrument  of flesh. Low moans, deep breaths, half-open mouth, closed eyes, whimpering. In the morning, the sun trickles through the window, beams dancing over the floor.

We continue to meet each other during the following week and we talk, cuddle, kiss, eat ice cream, dance, talk more. There is a security with him, in that he knows what he wants from poly and feel very secure about it. The last evening, we meet for some ice-cream and then decide that we should really go for an evening swim after he has finished his work shift. Said and done. The beach is almost empty around nine in the evening, but we have blankets and swim suits and sit down eating strawberries. It becomes almost a bit kitsch, watching the sunset; the rays of the sun turning dark pink. I run into the water, thinking it should be very cold but it is not. The evening air is now colder than the water. We walk further out, the waters are still shallow, and then I just have to attack him. As he loose the balance we end up sitting in the water, he gasp as I straddle him, pressing my legs tightly against him. Dunking him into the water, seeing how his eyes are so still under the water turns somewhat other worldly, he is so very still, pushed under the surface.

When we dry up, he pretend like he does not need the large, warm cardigan he bought and give it to me. I quickly realise he is just pretending, as his tall body is shaking after the swim and we swap. It means that I can move better now as well, and there is both an element of care there, but also practicality. How am I supposed to tie someone up if their muscles are so cold they cannot move? He is a sweet romantic guy, but I want him, his body and his mind completely focussed on us, on me, on the sensations, not to be shaking due to being cold. Stawberry eating, heart to heart, kissing, watching the sun disappearing into the sea. After literally lying on top of him to make sure he is not shaking anymore we swap sweaters so I can tie more easily. The blindfold goes on, again to make him focus on the feeling of the experience, to focus on us, on me.

It is getting darker and darker outside and the mosquitoes are out in full force, and I have never really tied while being under attack from mosquitoes. Got the thin ropes with me, and decide quickly to only do a short scene, in order for us to come out alive and with a drip of blood left in our bodies. Bloodplay took a whole different dimension that evening. It is his first experience of rope, and even if the tie is a standard one, his expressions of the experience become nothing like a standard one. Prepare for gross generalisation: Usually, I find men having a harder time letting go into the experience, they try to pre-empt the next move, or can’t stop anxiously twitching, requiring a high level of intense and often physical stimuli to settle into what is happening  and to remain present in the moment. Sometimes this can be really interesting and intense, but sometimes, like when sitting on a beach, the mood is different. His body dances beneath my fingers, but not twitching or moving anxiously, it his pulse and heart, slightly shivering skin, that lush mouth open, breathing deeply in and out, only a tiny, barely noticeable gasp. When the shape of the tie is done, I start moving the ropes again, leaning him back into my arms, closing my hand around his nose and mouth, stealing his breath, pulling a wrap of the rope tighter with the other hand. Kissing his forehead, it becomes clear that the bugs are biting through his sweater, and the untying clearly has to start. Sometimes, tying up the ropes is just as good, if not better, than the build up towards the finished tie. But here, it is just as good as everything else. He is first quiet, when we cuddle. Then saying something, and after expressing a wish to go back to his in order to remove my clothes I simply lift my dress and sit on his face. His tongue is working away, the beach is completely dark, can hear the waves, and the geese which are the only ones present except for us. I ride his face, pin his head and upper body down, pinching his nose shut, his licking gets more frantic, the lack of oxygen give him a sense of urgency. I sit there, grinding my wet cunt against his face until I come.

Back home at his, we end up in the sofa again.  Unbuckling the belt while his eyes meeting mine, then tightening it around his neck, pulling the noose tighter and tighter. Holding him down by the knees then releasing the pressure. The evening is now pretty warm, and we go out for some fresh air on the small balcony. It is passed 2 in the morning, and the city is completely dead, a Sunday night, only one or two people out walking. And he looks so incredibly dapper in his smoke robe, it is gold and the decadence it gives to the whole situation only gets better as he kneels down, yet again. This time I just kick back, relax, he knows exactly what to do, and the only thing I need to do is not to get loud, as the people standing underneath the balcony having an evening cigarette would appreciate a bit too much.

Before we both pass out I hurt him some more, he definitely had earned such pleasures, the metal sticks are scratching his back, pressing against his balls, making him whimper and shake. The skin of his back is warm when we fall asleep in each others arms. I wake up in the morning, looking at him sleeping, following the patterns created once more by the sun beams.

Now I’m back in London now and I miss him already.

Too Much Pussy! A Queer X-show

It’s cold, I’ve got a bad version of insomnia and February makes me feel miserable. I’m dreaming about warmer times and thinking about the summer. One amazing thing that I got to experience this summer was The Queer X-show.

By Deborah Degouts

The Queer X-show was 7 women who traveled through Europe in a van, performing on various stages and all this was filmed. The ‘first sexplicit, queer, documentary road movie’ was filmed by Emilie Jouvet. And it was awesome

The heroes of my summer became this amazing group, which consisted of DJ Metzgerei, Wendy Delorme, Judy Minx, Madison Young, Mad Kate, Sadie Lune, & Emilie Jouvet. But not only did I get to see them once but twice.First time was in Stockholm, during Stockholm Pride. Queer Allstars, organized by Wotever was one of the best parties during the week. Then they had already toured around Europe with their sexpositive message and full-frontal (femme) feminism and fuckery.
I did not really know anything about them, more than they were not to be missed. And the show itself started while I was snogging a gorgeous woman, not being entirely sober. So my concentration was maybe directed more at my fistfull of her hair than what happened at stage. But suddenly everything else stopped and I was breathing harder than ever. I don’t know which part of the show it was, except that it was spellbinding, terrifying, sexy and utterly in your face. A couple of people became upset, and I felt uneasy too, but not because of the show but because of some of the reactions from the audience. Undressed women carry many connotations, and I for one was sad when the biggest response from the audience came when someone showed their tits. Not because of the tits (they were stunning!) but because of the almost mandatory, general reaction in the audience. You know, the alpha male ‘rapture’. I know that a couple of people in the audience also felt uneasy, and some left because they were not able to reconcile their personal and political identities with what went on on stage.

Anyhow, when Mad Kate, dressed in zentai suit, tied herself into a karada and masturbated with a Hitachi while having microphones enhancing every sound, I could feel the electricity in the whole room.

Pic by Jean Pol

Judy Minx then came out, all innocent, making you think about very naughty ageplay, spitting gruel all over the audience before stripping and pissing on stage. Her small-girl personae was really something else

A captivating technofiliac scene followed, with a doll-like performance and a nighmarish ghoul performing a slow, painfully slow, strip, finishing kissing each other and in the same time blood flowing en mass from their mouths. I think this was one of the performances that made me cry. This passive, made up doll being undressed by a tall, dark, deformed figure. These characters who rested in their relationship, taking each other so far as to streams of blood. It is so hard to describe all the feelings, but the interplay between Delorme and Mad Kate was heartbreakingly beautiful.

The final playpiercingstrip I could barely watch (at that point my needlephobia was still getting in the way), but I could not help but taking sneak peaks. The oriental theme, with a conclusion that gave me the connotations of a sense of community and love for eachother echoed throughout the evening in Stockholm. I even thought about it while being lovingly stroked and pampered in the dungeon afterwards.

Then, a week later, back in the south of Sweden we realize that the same show is going to be shown in our town. It was not hard to decide whether to go and see them again or not. As for the most of the summer I was feeling a bit odd as we drove down to the venue on our bicycles, and that evening I was feeling antisocial, to be more specific. But at some point, I got tired of that feeling and decided that it was rope that I needed. So I turned back on my bicycle, pedaled like a mad person back, fetched my rope and got first a hold of E and then K. And after some lemonade and some knots I felt better already.
So when they came onstage again, I could just sit back and enjoy the ride that these performers take you on. The venue was different and it was a very different crowd as well. The art-gallery made the setup very different, all in all.

Things that struck me in this show was how much closer you could come to the performers. At an early stage, Judy Minx performed her piece about BDSM, and I was crying so much that it felt like floodgates had burst. It reminded me of people I missed, touches that I had to imagine instead of feeling, and reminded me of a sense of loss, a loss of something that I almost never even had.

BDSM is the quiet, firm pressure of your arm on my skin, pushing into my flesh as if I were made of dough.
It is the way your eyes stare coldly at me sometimes, moving slowly on me, observing me, examining every inch of me.
It is the slightest gesture – a reassuring nod of your head, telling me I can hold ten more seconds, just ten more seconds, and be a good girl for you ; a quiet look in your eyes that says trust me ; a little patting on my head, to tell me you’re proud of me, to tell me how strong and good I’ve been ; a word or two, you know you don’t need more, I know what you expect from me, and I know how to obey ; or an interrogative look, with something of a warning in it, is this what I told you to do ? is this how a good girl should behave ? what’s getting into you, don’t you want to please me ? you wouldn’t want to disappoint me. you’ve been bratty enough for tonight. quit it. now.
BDSM is your hand at the back of my neck, just this slight, gentle pressure at the back of my neck that paralyzes me all the way down my spine, controlling my every moves.

BDSM is you to me
BDSM is you and me.

It is well worth it to visit Judy’s own blog and read the whole text. It sure made me cry more than usually, and I’ve been called waterworks more than one time. A different burlesque came from Wendy Delorme, captivating and almost hypnotic she carefully watered the flowers.

Wendy Delorme, by Emilie Jouvet

Mad Kate did one of her fast-paced aggressive numbers, forcefully making the audience think about the self, the participation of social networks on internet and how scewed the notion of being a member of such communities can become, in which every second is documented, written about/upon, every moment captured with the help of a camera-lense and all of the informations that we crave transferred every second by wires or wireless networks. Hearing her scream about how she had to update her Facebook, check the Twitter, has any one written?!, is there any change since she last checked?! , this was both fun and frightening. And I decided to stop being stressed about updating More Inches.

Mad Kate, by Emilie Jouve

One other highlight (among many, so many that I will not write of all of them here) was Sadie Lune’s invite from her to look at her cervix. All a part of the educational and sex-positive spirit in which the show was performed with. She sat down in a plush chair, started talking about anatomy and cunts and then she took out a plastic speculum which she inserted. With the help of a torch, she then did a cervix viewing, encouraging people to step forward and look at her cervix. While doing this, she also answered questions about female anatomy. Many people stepped forward, but it took some time before they dared to do so. This felt at no time inappropriate and no one behaved in an abusive manner. The performers were powerful subjects (or if objects, chosen to be such) with bodies of their own, and this was very much the strength of the whole of the Queer X-show. It might sound strange that I’m saying it at all, but there is such a twisted notion in the world, which is a notion about the female form that cannot be viewed without being exploited. And that is to a certain extent true, but what if we are still subjects? What if the exploitative model does not suit all situations? I think this is a very true case when speaking of Queer X show. They refuse the notion of the powerless hypersexualized body, in favour of one that is true to relating to a sex-positive message while still refusing the normative mode in which the female body is produced. Maybe it should be noted that even if all of them could be considered ‘pretty’ or beautiful (not always very useful notions them either) they were often reclaiming their bodies on stage, and controlled the way that we could view them. This meant that distortions were never far away, a stripping to the bone, or a body moulded after their own likings. ‘Uglyfied’ is maybe the wrong word, but definitely different from what we think a body of beauty should look like. This challenge was for me, personally, the largest turn on, in a way that made me participate but to also think about who is really watching who.

Sadie Lune by Emilie Jouvet

Another beautiful scene, was the last ceremony in which the group showed their solidarity which sex-workers ended the show it self, although the party continued afterwards with great music, friendly people and of course, a sauna on wheels, which was used by many. It stood outside the venue, half a meter from the water (we were in the harbor) and the evening became full of nekkid people who bathed, sat in the sauna, made out, had sex, drank, danced, talked, rode on bikes in the nude. You name it.
And what did I do? I took it all in, then continued tying. Dolly, the poor thing looked good in the middle of the night, naked and stuck.

And what is even better, the trailer for the movie shot by Jouvet, can be seen here

You can find Queer X show’s blog here

New horizons

Working away on other projects, such as returning to being social and meeting lovely people, as well as studying my ass off and finding my way back into the kinklife with one of the persons whom I love,  I’m just going to post  a small thing  about some added links in our blog-roll, as well as a link to a very interesting post about a different kind of petplay.

Oh, btw. Is there not a very exiting thing about getting to know people who are really, really interesting? It is very much like discovering new rooms or streets, and it makes you think. I’m doing a lot of introspective craft right now, and being surrounded by strong and wonderful people make life very much easier.

So, a new link to our blogroll is the fantastic Sex in Art. It is a must because art and sex is two good things that I really enjoy. This is just one of the fantastic examples that you might experience if you click on the link:

We also have ‘Letter from a Seraglio‘ with us.  I personally love the style of  this harem-girl’s writing, and hope you also will.

Finally, in this post we read a new take on pet-play. When thinking of petplay, we usually hear about things like cats, dogs, ponies, occasional pigs, but have you ever thought of birdplay?
It is so well worth a read, because it reminds me of exactly why I love the elements of sex in which you have to use your fantasy, dig deep, do research, make an effort. I crave the unexpected, the fantasy turning into reality, tales that materialize right in front of you. And also, because unexpected things, those that do not follow an automatic mode of producing kinky bodies and minds, are extremely hot. Suprise me, pass boundaries, challenge me, and it could be possible I’m interested.

So maybe, taking on a falcon could be something? My father, a very keen semi-amateur ornithologist, took me out birdwatching when I was a very small kid and although the wait was boring, the hot chocolate burned my tongue, the rain to cold and the warm socks not warm enough, I always turned silent when I saw the eagles soar. Is there someone in the world that can do that by emulating a bird? I don’t know, but let’s have a go!

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

On racism & fastfood-pr0n

Apparently, there is even shaky things going on in the pr0nbuisness. If I hear one more person saying the words ‘credit’ and ‘crunch’ in the same sentence I will probably tie a noose and give it to that person. But apparently, even the buisness of picturing people making whopiee is feeling it and trying to find ‘new’ ways of continue being able to sell. Violet Blue (she is awesome and will have her link in the list ASAP) writes about the question of ‘interracial’ pr0n and the ‘humour’ and ‘tongue in cheek’ of the mainstream pr0n companies that is not supposed to be racism at all. Or is it? Where is the titles like ‘Oh, no she is fucking a white, ugly middleclass, fat idiot with nothing behind his skull‘ . But then again, pr0n is big buisness, that title would not sell and buisness must go on, giving people what they want. Yeah right. Adult Video News (AVN) claims that interracial pr0 is the recessionproof category in adult video industry, but Violet Blue is examining that statement in this brilliant column in San Fransisco Chronicle pointing towards standards and racism in the industry of pr0n.

We all know about roleplay and taboos being broken but Blue hit the nail on the head when she says:

“On closer inspection, there’s something more than a little disingenuous about AVN’s sense of humor. We all know that porn is built to part you with your hard-earned cash and proffer fantasies; sometimes certain kinds of fantasy or roleplaying can be sexy: taboos, whether actual or perceived, are always hot, right? The positive ability of porn is that is can show partnering that is charged because it crosses racial boundaries; I believe that damage is not done by the FACT of crossing those taboos, but in the WAY those taboos are crossed.”

AVN responded with what can only be describes as a unfounded, personal attack on Blue, rather than thinking about what the implications of her text and questions actually mean.
To read the whole story, click here.

This is so fucking important to talk about with the mainstream pr0nindustry that exists today.  And it stinks of racism, orientalism, sexism and plain stupidity. Cause there is so much more to it. This blatant commersialised shit does not get me turned on, but someone else might. I don’t like pr0on to be honest. I am tired of going through hords of shit to find 3 minutes of hotness. Cause the stereotypes are nothing more.Madison Young who is interviewed for the column puts it perfectly by saying:

“The LA porn world has gotten to the point where the majority of the material that they are producing is something that I would call ‘fast food porn.’ It’s junk food. Offensive and artery-clogging porn.”

I like organic things, I like food where I can taste something and recognise it as an actual taste. But must confess that I occasionally have a burger or two. D00m on me. How about you?